04 May Quarantine and Chill: Chapter Eight.

This is a Science-Fiction Story and a complete work of fiction, meant entirely for entertainment. I write these stories as writing practice.

I closed my eyes as I sat in the chair and the room felt like it was spinning, increasingly faster with each breath that I took. A woozy sense of meditation as it felt like entropy of energy entering and leaving my body simultaneously. It was such a strange feeling, weakening yet powerful. It was a weird, worldly balancing act.

Eventually the room felt like it stopped spinning and I re-opened my eyes. Much to my delightful surprise, the room was entirely re-organized. The candles were re-arranged into a hierarchy of organization, parallel lines, each of the candles was an equal distance apart. I looked towards the front of the room and the door had reappeared, opened, she was standing there facing me from the outside of our backyard. She was holding a leather-bound notebook in her hands with a noticeable smile upon her face.

She very seductively said to me, “Puzzle solved, I guess.” As I got up from my chair, the first row of candles dimmed and with each step that I took towards the door, the next row of candles would completely burn down all of their wax.

When I got to the door I gave her a romantic kiss on her lips, one that I am sure would be worthy of a cinematic, theatrical screenplay and then with an unequivocal confidence said, “The King has returned.”

She blushed and comically responded, “You’re looking good.”

I closed the door behind us as we walked towards the makeshift bar that I had built. We both took a seat and she placed the notebook on the countertop. I looked at her, with a newborn sense of high energy, “So what’s in the book?”

I could tell that she could feel the difference in my mannerisms and demeanor because she responded with a subtle nervousness, “There was nothing on the pages when I browsed through…”

I stared deeply into her eyes for about twenty seconds, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable yet supremely appreciated. I then opened the book.

The pages were filled with images of the candles that we found in the room, with each of the cursive scriptures inked within the candles carefully detailed and outlined. The images looked like someone had meticulously sketched them by hand, the artwork was visually stunning.

I looked over at her and softly spoke, “Is this real? Are you seeing these also?”

Her attitude towards me was far more submissive than I had ever known her to be as she said, “Yeah. These are real. These are beautiful pieces of artwork.”

I altered the mood with a humorous tone of voice, “Shorty, what the fuck just happened?”

She broke into an anxious yet relieved, sweet type of laugh, “I have no idea, but actually, none of this surprises me. Odd stuff has always happened whenever I’m with you.” She applied lipstick to her lips as she smiled, then continued to say, “Hopefully we can finally finish our date.”

She straightened her posture, which I always found that she does when she suddenly gets aroused and excited. I never understood why she does that, but I’ve always noticed that she does that under those types of feelings.

She was warmed up, her face was full of love so I figured it would be a good time to try and win her over, yet again. So, I picked her up in my arms and carried her like we were leaving a wedding and heading to our room. She was pleasantly surprised and was about to say something before we heard the doorbell of our house ring.

She sighed with frustration as I put her back down; “It’s always something…” she angrily spoke as we walked to see who was at the front door.

She peaked through the blinds of the window and said, “I don’t see anyone, but there’s a box. Looks like someone has sent us a package.”

I found this to be slightly worrisome considering we hadn’t ordered anything and no one really knows where we live. This time I sighed in frustration as I said to her, “Woman, one of these days I’m going to do you real good, after we have an uninterrupted, romantic date.”

She turned around, faced me and spoke theatrically enamored, “I always knew you were my prince charming.” She cupped her hands and blinked her eyes several times like she was in awe.

I took a notecard out from my pocket and added another tally mark, “Not only did I win you over, but I caught you staring at my dilsnick again.”

She abruptly laughed, the type of laugh where the eyes get teary-eyed because the timing of the laugh was much needed, “You really keep a tally?”

I looked down at the notecard, did some quick math and charmingly responded, “745 times to be exact.”

She blushed with a slight embarrassment, “It hasn’t been that many times…”

I flicked the notecard a few times, “Shorty, you know how I’m real good at math. The numbers don’t lie.”

She rolled her eyes, this time not in a condescending way, but with amusement as she sweetly whispered, “And you said I wasn’t thottie anymore.”

I responded back with some smooth, slick talk, “Shorty, that’s why I’ve always kept you around as my biggest groupie.”

She smiled, pointed at herself and said, “Uh… excuse me, I’m your only groupie.”

I quickly realized that this was an opportunity for me to be a macho man, “Shorty, are you just going to stand there and stare at my package or are you going to go get the box from outside?”

She moved her hips like a striptease as she walked outside, grabbed the box and brought it back inside of the house.

*To Be Continued In Chapter Nine*