The Miscreant

Bradley was alone...or, rather, had been alone.

The Miscreant

         Bradley hunched over his laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard like possessed imps dancing in the unholy, green glare of the monitor. He'd been sitting there, transfixed, pounding out paragraph after paragraph for longer than he knew. The only thing that he could be sure of was that the sun was, in fact, in the sky when he'd first hearkened to the siren's call of inspiration. Now, he sat in the long, still time after the dead of the night had long passed; the eternally blinking cursor taunting him - burning a hole into his brain.

         Oh, how it mocked him.

         The squeaking of the shower knobs down the hall and the full-bore hiss of the water nearly made Bradley jump out of his chair. Initially it was just the sound itself, shattering the near-silence he'd woven around himself like a silky shroud. Then, the realization hit him like an old model Lincoln and his blood crystallized in his veins...

         Bradley was alone... or, rather, had been alone.

         Was there a chance someone snuck in? He couldn't have been that into writing his story. But then he remembered the whole day had escaped him.  Who could it possibly be? His roommate was gone to visit family for the month and Chanelle, his girlfriend, had been out of town for the weekend. He decided his next course of action was to check his answering machine to see if someone had called. Ten unheard messages. Scratching his head, momentarily forgeting his unknown guest, he went to push the play button. The squeak of the shower knobs froze him in his tracks.

         Shivering, as if a cold January breeze had suddenly entered the room, he headed down the hallway toward the bathroom, one hand on the wall sturdying himself. His heart raced as he got closer, thoughts bouncing in and out of his head and voices seemed to whisper in his ear. Don't go in there. Think man, who could it be? What if..., he shook his head, What if what?

         Bradley was not one who dismissed stories of haunted grounds, but didn't believe them either. There had been rumors that the house was old and several things happened that could not be scientifically explained. He had only been living here a few months and would admit things happened. Everyone excused it as a ghost or something of the supernatural. They could also be drawn to his imagination playing tricks on him; misplaced items, lights on when he swore he had turned them off, mysterious knocks on the door when no one was there. But now... this was actually some scary shit! He was reconsidering finding out who, or worse - what, was in the shower.

         He turned to head back toward the answering machine, when he heard the door knob of the bathroom turn. His knees became weak and he felt flush. As he rotated around, he suddenly slid to the floor with a thud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Bradley felt something cold wiping at his face as he came to. "Wha..what happened?" he asked sitting up, trying to focus on who was there with him.

         "You passed out silly," a voice softly snickered. "You feeling okay?"

         "Uh yeah, I'm fine. I passed out?" in disbelief.

         "Yeah you did. You looked at me and next thing I knew, you were laid out on the floor. Scared the hell out of me you did!"

         "Seriously? All I remember is turning around to see who was coming out of the bathroom, I knew it couldn't be my roommate, he isn't even in the states," confusion in his voice. "So it was you then?" finally recognizing it was Chanelle.

         "Who the hell else would it have been?" as if to accuse him of something.

         Now the young man knew he was in trouble. There was no way she was going to believe what he had thought. Shyly he looked up at her as she stood, crossing her arms. "Didn't you even listen to the messages I left, since you were too busy to pick up the phone?" she asked with sarcasm.

         Oh no, more trouble. Think quick! Rubbing the back of his head, he moaned, "I don't feel so good. Think I must have hit my head pretty hard."

         "Aww, I'm sorry. Listen to me yelling at you when obviously you have had a bad night and went and hurt yourself. Forgive me?" asking childlike, sitting back down. She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead.

         "It's okay, really," burying his head in her hair, smiling to himself. Not only had he escaped a fight, he had come up with an idea for the perfect ending to his story.