One of Those Days by Dawn Brockmeier

Meagan hears the creaking grow. “Was that somewhere near or far away?” She is unable to pierce the foggy depths within her to understand. It seems bone chillingly cold where ever she is. “Where am I? How did I get here? Is this a dream? No, I know I am feeling cold.” She rises and stumbles around in the pitch dark. Her arms flail searching for a surface. She feels nothing. There is a musty smell, very faintly assaulting her nose. Moving to her right she stumbles into a surface at last, exploring it as a blind woman. It feels hard, slightly bumpy and cool to the touch, perhaps a wall. Her mind tells her to continue to move, explore, must find answers.

Dizziness assaults her, she begins to slump down… gets on her hands and knees like a little kid would do. Her heart beat is speeding like a freight train… she breathes in, breathes out trying to gain control. Crawling in what she hopes is the right direction, until her head lightly touches another surface. Same feel as the other one, is she in a box? She crawls in a third direction several feet, or a mile, she cannot even think clearly now.  Hmm, feels like the same surface. Guess this leaves one direction. “Unless I am in a box this direction may lead me out.”

She guesses she is on a floor that is not cement or carpet; it could be wood, smooth, cold, and slippery. Turning in the last direction, she crawls cautiously toward she knows not what. Is she soon to reach the last frontier? She is beginning to see this as a puzzle or game.

Reaching a corner, with the same surface as the last, she thinks “Oh no, maybe this is a box. Keep going, reaching, oh wait there’s a different feel, maybe wood, even colder.” She climbs up, her knees knocking, to explore further. She feels a knob. “Wow a door? Hallelujah.”

Slowly turning the door handle, pushing out on the door, no movement. “Will I ever get out?” Pulling in with some force, in her panic, she almost knocks herself in the head. A chair that had been wedged under the door falls to the floor. She peeks out, light is coming in. Here is a room, with no furniture, just carpeting. “This does not answer the question of where I am.” As she looks back, she sees a bare closet with no shelves. “I have nothing with me, no keys, no purse; I have no idea where I am.”

She hears the creaking again. “Oh I am not alone… Hello, anyone here?” No reply, terrified she runs to the hallway and finds her purse has been emptied on the floor but she finds her keys, well most of them… gathering everything up she runs out the front door.

That is when she realizes that as a Realtor she has been showing a house to the Johnston Family. Wondering what has happened to them she reenters the house.

Approaching the stairway and hearing muffled sounds, she carefully climbs the stairs. At the landing she calls out again. This time she hears banging at the double doors of the master bedroom. Coming to the door she asks if everything is okay. She hears a disgruntled reply. “No, our son must have locked us in and run off.”

She sees that he had indeed jammed a piece of wood into the outward opening doors; it has some sort of locking mechanism on it. With much effort she removes it. When Ken Johnston and his wife Laura get out of the room they apologize profusely for their unhappy teenage son, who wanted to make a point about not moving.

As they all leave the house it becomes obvious he made his point by stealing Meagan’s car. She grumbles under her breath, “It figures, this is just one of those days!” She thinks to herself, “Now what? Call the police maybe get the car re-keyed, if they find it in one piece… Whoever thought selling Real Estate could be so exasperating?”

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