One night last week, I noticed a strange odor in the bedroom. Strange, but not unpleasant. I picked up my flashlight and shone it to the back of the walk-in closet (the light bulb is burned out) and was momentarily started when I saw shoes on the floor that appeared to be sticking out from the bottom of the clothes. I quickly realized they were my shoes and there were no legs in them so laughed it off. But then I started making up a story about it as I continued to get ready for bed.
As usual I let it run through my mind like a play, the actors often deviating from my script to react to the scene in their own way.
Morgan had olfactory hallucinations. It bothered her that it smelled like a man's cologne that was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place the scent or the man it belonged to. She didn't like that it caused her to be uneasy in her own home.
Morgan sought reassurance from her best friend, Shelly, and invited her over for dinner. With Shelly in the house, Morgan was more embarrassed than afraid, but led Shelly into the bedroom so she could see the “crime scene” for herself. Morgan pretended to be tidying up the bureau while she told the story so she wouldn’t have to look Shelly in the face.
“Isn’t that silly?” Morgan asked, glancing at her friend to see if she was laughing at her.
On Shelly’s face was a look of horror and she stood as if turned to stone by the face of Medusa. Hesitantly, Morgan reached out a finger to touch her, to see if she was still warm.
“RUN!”
I swear Shelly's shout scared me so badly I almost peed myself.
I don’t know where that story is going, but it’s not going to bed with me at night with the lights off.
No comments:
Post a Comment