Moving Write Along

Wrong Number He sank to the wooden bench wearily and pulled a soft hand towel and a condensated bottle of water from his gym bag. He was taking slow sips of the cool liquid, dabbing the copious amounts of sweat from his forehead when his pocket began to buzz, his phone lighting up beneath the fabric of his gym shorts. He hurriedly replaced the cap and sat the bottle on the ground before fumbling for the device. 107 new messages. He blinked in horror as the notifications began pouring in and the phone began to grow warm with the effort. The only people who were supposed to have this number were his parents and his brother, so who was texting him? Finally, the chaos died down and he reluctantly opened his inbox. “Hey, baby! I got your number from a friend. He said you’re looking for a good time. Call me!” The sentiment was repeated dozens of times and he was growing angrier and angrier as he deleted the trash. He gave up when more began pouring in to replace the ones he’d removed...

The air practically vibrated around them with a growing buzz like an old-fashioned television set with no reception. She gritted her teeth as she tried to focus on the glittering purple orb in front of her on the cloth draped table. “Will you be quiet!?” she slammed her hands down on either side of the ball, startling the small blue-scaled creature hovering in the air over her shoulder. Its leathery wings folded carefully and it landed on the stool directly across from her. “I didn’t say anything!” she heard the squeaky voice in her mind, though its lips never moved. The dark cerulean eyes were wide and focused on her face contorted with concentration. “Well stop thinking so loud! The buzzing is driving me insane!” Abruptly the hum dulled to a trickle before giving way to utter silence. An unnatural silence. Something was wrong.

“I hate you.” she spat venomously watching as what remained of the birthday present she’d bought for herself swirled its way down the drain of the dirty kitchen sink. She had spent the day avoiding contact with the outside world, hoping to forget and be forgotten alike, but it was not to be. She had made it through two bottles of the strongly alcoholic liquid before her front door had burst open, the wood splintering and the hardware of the lock flying uselessly through the air to the dark recesses of the dusty room. “Why? I’m lovely.” He smirked at her as he gathered up the empty bottles and tossed them with uncanny accuracy over his shoulder to the waiting receptacle without so much as a glance backward. His lighthearted smile didn’t meet his eyes as he stalked forward gathering her up in his arms in spite of her vigorous resistance. “It’s my party and I’ll get drunk alone if I want to! Lemme go!” she fought in vain against his inhuman grip before finally going slack from exhaustion...