The Empty House

Each week, Indie Chick Lit gives a writing prompt and allows bloggers to link up.

 

You arrive home after a long day of work to an entirely empty home. There are no indents on the carpet, no wine stains–no sign that you or anyone lives there. Write this scene.

 

The drive home was long. Not a lot of traffic, really, just long. Long and windy and wet, which also meant slick. Only means I have to drive that much slower. Can't have myself go sailing off a mountain highway . . . . I suppress the horrid images that push their way to the front of my brain. I shudder at the mere thought. Slow and steady, listen to the radio, and just follow the road.

Commercials come on the radio, so I turn it down. I can't change stations - there aren't any others on the mountain. It's lucky I love country music, I just don't love commercials. I'm reminded as I turn the volume down that the speakers are dying, crackling at me. Mocking me. I feel it. The speakers are mocking me. I change over to a CD and start listening to Eric Church. I turn the music up to cover up the crackling sound of my mocking speakers.

I take my turn off, still going slow. Still wet going and there are usually a lot of deer roaming the highway. The wipers continue their thump-thump thump-thump, Eric Church still serenading me through my crackling, mocking speakers. I can't wait until I get home. Change into my pj's, eat the chicken I bought from Popeye's, maybe read a bit.

 I pull onto my street, looking my for house. Everyone is parked on the street making the small street that much more narrow and parking is hard to find. Yay for me. I find my house and see the driveway is empty. I sigh and pull in and park. I shut off my car and grab my purse, cell phone, dinner and my work stuff and haul my stiff ass out of the car. I fumble with the keys and unlock the front door. I search for the light switch, cursing under my breath. I find it and switch it on.

Nothing. I look back outside and realize that none of the neighbor's lights are on and realize the power must be out.

I drop my things and go to my car for a flashlight. I flip it on and walk back into the house. I swing the flashlight around and see nothing. Nothing but the carpet and the linoleum. Bare walls stare at me in the small beam of the flashlight. I sigh and pick up my things and take them to the kitchen. I open the container of food and grab a piece of chicken and just start eating. It's lukewarm at best, but it still tastes good. I grab some fries and the flashlight and wander around the house. The three bedrooms are just as empty as the front of the house.

I suddenly realize that I'm completely alone in a dark house with only a mini flashlight and a bucket of chicken. The neighborhood isn't the greatest; meth addicts live across the street and there's a pot grower down the way. I almost feel as if I've been robbed but obviously there's nothing to take.

I walk back into the kitchen and grab another piece of chicken; my appetite obviously not hurt by my sudden fear of being alone. Either that or I'm eating my feelings. I search one handed in my purse for my cell phone. I find it and dial.

"What's up?"

"Hey, I thought you'd be here by now. Everything okay?" I ask.

"Wound up with a flat tire. I should be there in about twenty minutes, though. You're not eating all that chicken without me, are you?" I hear the teasing in his voice over the roar that is his truck.

"Me? No, never. Although I'm starving so I've just started my second piece. Sorry I didn't wait for you. Also, the power is out."

"No worries, babe. I'll see you in a little bit."

"Drive safe, babe." I press "end" and grab a couple fries and continue with my piece of chicken.

I look up and realize that I left the front door wide open. Smart. The feeling of being utterly stupid crashes over me and I think to myself, I've seen this movie. I'm pretty sure it didn't end well. I close the door and lock it. I have a feeling this will be the longest twenty minutes of my life.

Twenty minutes (which felt like an eternity) later I hear the truck pull up. I open the front door to see him get out of the truck. He reaches back in and pulls out a large lantern and two sleeping bags. He sees the look on my face and said, "What? I called Tom about work stuff and he told me the power was out. I dug through the trailer to find our sleeping bags and my lantern and a couple other things. Where's the chicken? I'm hungry."

He smiles, kisses me, and walks into the house. We lay out the sleeping bags and grab the food for a living room picnic dinner of Popeye's chicken, fries, and beans lit by the lantern. The couple of other things? He'd managed to find two pillows, his portable DVD player, and had rented a movie. A comedy. Smart man.

Unloading the trailer of all of our belongings would have to wait until tomorrow.