Carly stopped walking for a second and listened intently for a long moment.
“Yo, what’s up?” Eric asked, obviously annoyed.
“Shh.” Carly hissed and held up a single finger, craning her neck at an odd angle. “I thought I heard something.” She whispered.
Eric rolled his eyes. He made a point of looking at his watch.
Satisfied there was nothing to be really heard, Carly resumed walking.
“I don’t see how you could hear anything with those shoes making all of that racket!” Her companion complained.
Ignoring his snide remark, she purposely clomped even louder. Hard as she tried though, she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of hearing that voice again.
“We’re going to be late, you know. I hate being late.” Still complaining, he quickened his step and continued to rant about tardiness, loud shoes and how it was always something or another.
Carly successfully tuned him out. At this point she was putting up with him and his bad attitude just to get an overly priced and mediocre meal at the steak house. She’d just about caught up to Eric when she thought she heard the voice again. This time, it sounded like it said her name.
Stopping once more and wrapping her arms around herself as a chill permeated her body, Carly stood absolutely still. Straining to hear the voice again, all of her senses were on high alert.
“Carly,” it whispered, barely audible, “the time is near.”
“Huh? Who are you? Where are you?” She turned a full circle attempting to make out figures in the inky night.
“Car…. Who are you talking to? I’m right here. Come on, we’re going to miss our reservations.” Eric impatiently pushed a slice of his beach blond locks aside and tucked it behind his ear. “Carly?” He said with a hint of concern.
Still trying to find the source of the voice in the night, Carly hadn’t even realized she was being beckoned. She had an eerie feeling she couldn’t quite describe, and for the life of her, had no idea what ‘the time is near’ meant.
Finally, her partner for the evening reached out and shook her. “Carly!” He barked. “What is going on? Are you doing drugs or what?”
“What? Of course not, Eric! Don’t be ridiculous.” She wondered if she should tell him or not. Not, she thought. Eric was long on sarcasm and disdain and short on empathy and caring.
Again they resumed their hurried walk. Once they entered the restaurant, Eric was all charm and the perfect doting escort for the night. Every female eye followed the pair with envy. Carly knew the routine and barely kept the bile rising in her throat down. She was nearing the end of this charade.
Carly wasn’t a call girl or a prostitute by any means, but she’d made herself solely available for Eric for nearly a year now. There was nothing sexual, not even any real attraction between the two, but more an arrangement. A means to an end. Eric needed a hot gal by his side at client dinners and parties, and Carly needed a hot meal every now and again.
She was an artist, a struggling one at best, but determined to see her dream through. She put up with the verbal sparring and the ever so often rough hand that Eric offered just to get by. She hated herself for it and hated him even more because of it.
Lately she’d begun to feel different. Like there was a latent power lurking deep inside. She had begun hearing mysterious voices and sounds, just like tonight. She didn’t understand it, but was certain it meant something.
Eric held her chair out for her, the perfect gentleman. Their other guests had just arrived as well. As usual, Eric’s clients were rotund, sweaty with a distinct chalky pallor about them. Why they always seemed to look the same, Carly didn’t know. She also didn’t know exactly what it was that Eric did, or whom the clients worked for.
It had been made clear from the beginning that it was simply none of her business. What she did know was this…. She hated every one of them and was seriously looking for a way out from under this ‘arrangement’.
Bored and with a smile pasted on her lips, Carly ate her steak and feigned interest in the pasty man beside her as he talked about his many classic cars. Thankfully, he excused himself to use the little boys room.
“I hope you fall in.” Carly mumbled.
“What hon? Did you say something?” Eric asked.
“Oh, no. Just talking to myself.” She smiled brightly and patted his hand.
She was off in her own little world when one of the other portly men inquired, “Where’d Sam make off to? He’s been gone for nearly ten minutes now!”
She hadn’t noticed.
Just then, the waiter came to the table and whispered awkwardly to them all that there had been a little accident in the men’s room. Apparently big ole Sam had tripped, hit his head on the toilet and landed face first in the blue toilet water. Being unconscious, it appeared he may have drowned.
Paramedics raced through the dining room and the shocked party at the table stumbled after them. Even Carly followed close behind.
“No, it couldn’t have. Could it?” She wondered. Certainly it was a coincidence. Right?
The men’s room door was crammed with curious observers, Eric and his guests pushed their way in, moths open, eyes wide. Sam had been moved to the floor, his face, once pale, now ringed in blue looked somehow alien like.
A strange sense of victory bubbled up in Carly’s chest. Was this the power she had felt creeping in lately?
Just to try it out, to see if she truly was the reason Sam lay dead with toilet water on his face, she whispered, “I wish you’d fall flat on that pork face of yours.”
Immediately, the other client in their party, lurched forward abruptly and fell, landing next to Sam.
Confused, and a little bruised, he managed to turn himself around and sit up. “What in tarnation just happened? Who pushed me, you sorry SOB?” He glared around the tiny doorframe, noting that everyone looked just as confused and shocked as he.
“Ok, everyone out. NOW!” One of the paramedics barked. They had stopped working on Sam, as he most certainly was dead.
Eric and Chuck spoke quietly for a few moments, Chuck rubbing various parts of his body that had gotten hurt in the fall. Both ignored Carly standing off to the side.
“Carly, the time is now.” A voice whispered. She didn’t bother to look around, by now, knowing she’d see noone. Carly thought she might know what the voice meant, but she did not know why.
Sensing evil was the root of Eric’s business; she thought maybe she had been given this gift to reap justice on them. But justice was from God, was it not? Certainly what she had done was not a tool from God.
Not understanding, but certain she had a calling, she followed the men out into the street. They said their goodbyes and Eric roughly pulled her along.
“Eric, one day you will regret all that you torment me with.” Carly stated calmly.
“Really? You and whose army?” His mouth widened into an evil smirk as his grip tightened on her wrist.
TO BE CONTINUED…….
Carly stopped walking for a second and listened intently for a long moment.
“Yo, what’s up?” Eric asked, obviously annoyed.
“Shh.” Carly hissed and held up a single finger, craning her neck at an odd angle. “I thought I heard something.” She whispered.
Eric rolled his eyes. He made a point of looking at his watch.
Satisfied there was nothing to be really heard, Carly resumed walking.
“I don’t see how you could hear anything with those shoes making all of that racket!” Her companion complained.
Ignoring his snide remark, she purposely clomped even louder. Hard as she tried though, she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of hearing that voice again.
“We’re going to be late, you know. I hate being late.” Still complaining, he quickened his step and continued to rant about tardiness, loud shoes and how it was always something or another.
Carly successfully tuned him out. At this point she was putting up with him and his bad attitude just to get an overly priced and mediocre meal at the steak house. She’d just about caught up to Eric when she thought she heard the voice again. This time, it sounded like it said her name.
Stopping once more and wrapping her arms around herself as a chill permeated her body, Carly stood absolutely still. Straining to hear the voice again, all of her senses were on high alert.
“Carly,” it whispered, barely audible, “the time is near.”
“Huh? Who are you? Where are you?” She turned a full circle attempting to make out figures in the inky night.
“Car…. Who are you talking to? I’m right here. Come on, we’re going to miss our reservations.” Eric impatiently pushed a slice of his beach blond locks aside and tucked it behind his ear. “Carly?” He said with a hint of concern.
Still trying to find the source of the voice in the night, Carly hadn’t even realized she was being beckoned. She had an eerie feeling she couldn’t quite describe, and for the life of her, had no idea what ‘the time is near’ meant.
Finally, her partner for the evening reached out and shook her. “Carly!” He barked. “What is going on? Are you doing drugs or what?”
“What? Of course not, Eric! Don’t be ridiculous.” She wondered if she should tell him or not. Not, she thought. Eric was long on sarcasm and disdain and short on empathy and caring.
Again they resumed their hurried walk. Once they entered the restaurant, Eric was all charm and the perfect doting escort for the night. Every female eye followed the pair with envy. Carly knew the routine and barely kept the bile rising in her throat down. She was nearing the end of this charade.
Carly wasn’t a call girl or a prostitute by any means, but she’d made herself solely available for Eric for nearly a year now. There was nothing sexual, not even any real attraction between the two, but more an arrangement. A means to an end. Eric needed a hot gal by his side at client dinners and parties, and Carly needed a hot meal every now and again.
She was an artist, a struggling one at best, but determined to see her dream through. She put up with the verbal sparring and the ever so often rough hand that Eric offered just to get by. She hated herself for it and hated him even more because of it.
Lately she’d begun to feel different. Like there was a latent power lurking deep inside. She had begun hearing mysterious voices and sounds, just like tonight. She didn’t understand it, but was certain it meant something.
Eric held her chair out for her, the perfect gentleman. Their other guests had just arrived as well. As usual, Eric’s clients were rotund, sweaty with a distinct chalky pallor about them. Why they always seemed to look the same, Carly didn’t know. She also didn’t know exactly what it was that Eric did, or whom the clients worked for.
It had been made clear from the beginning that it was simply none of her business. What she did know was this…. She hated every one of them and was seriously looking for a way out from under this ‘arrangement’.
Bored and with a smile pasted on her lips, Carly ate her steak and feigned interest in the pasty man beside her as he talked about his many classic cars. Thankfully, he excused himself to use the little boys room.
“I hope you fall in.” Carly mumbled.
“What hon? Did you say something?” Eric asked.
“Oh, no. Just talking to myself.” She smiled brightly and patted his hand.
She was off in her own little world when one of the other portly men inquired, “Where’d Sam make off to? He’s been gone for nearly ten minutes now!”
She hadn’t noticed.
Just then, the waiter came to the table and whispered awkwardly to them all that there had been a little accident in the men’s room. Apparently big ole Sam had tripped, hit his head on the toilet and landed face first in the blue toilet water. Being unconscious, it appeared he may have drowned.
Paramedics raced through the dining room and the shocked party at the table stumbled after them. Even Carly followed close behind.
“No, it couldn’t have. Could it?” She wondered. Certainly it was a coincidence. Right?
The men’s room door was crammed with curious observers, Eric and his guests pushed their way in, moths open, eyes wide. Sam had been moved to the floor, his face, once pale, now ringed in blue looked somehow alien like.
A strange sense of victory bubbled up in Carly’s chest. Was this the power she had felt creeping in lately?
Just to try it out, to see if she truly was the reason Sam lay dead with toilet water on his face, she whispered, “I wish you’d fall flat on that pork face of yours.”
Immediately, the other client in their party, lurched forward abruptly and fell, landing next to Sam.
Confused, and a little bruised, he managed to turn himself around and sit up. “What in tarnation just happened? Who pushed me, you sorry SOB?” He glared around the tiny doorframe, noting that everyone looked just as confused and shocked as he.
“Ok, everyone out. NOW!” One of the paramedics barked. They had stopped working on Sam, as he most certainly was dead.
Eric and Chuck spoke quietly for a few moments, Chuck rubbing various parts of his body that had gotten hurt in the fall. Both ignored Carly standing off to the side.
“Carly, the time is now.” A voice whispered. She didn’t bother to look around, by now, knowing she’d see noone. Carly thought she might know what the voice meant, but she did not know why.
Sensing evil was the root of Eric’s business; she thought maybe she had been given this gift to reap justice on them. But justice was from God, was it not? Certainly what she had done was not a tool from God.
Not understanding, but certain she had a calling, she followed the men out into the street. They said their goodbyes and Eric roughly pulled her along.
“Eric, one day you will regret all that you torment me with.” Carly stated calmly.
“Really? You and whose army?” His mouth widened into an evil smirk as his grip tightened on her wrist.
TO BE CONTINUED…….
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