And Now You Know Why
By Acquanetta M. Sproule


It really does make sense when you think about it rationally.

I've covered the carpet with newspapers so it won't eat me.

Not the newspaper, silly, the carpet.

Just the carpet in my living room.

As far as I've been able to determine, that's the only one that's alive and very, very hungry.

*
I stepped onto the elevator. The doors closed, but the elevator didn't move. I became alarmed. Then I woke up.

*

Long ago, me and Barbecue went to the store. There's no fence along the back of our yard, so we cut through the alley. Barbecue is part-Collie. He is reddish-brown and black. The color of ribs and embers, see? I put my green hat on his head. He looked really silly, especially with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging like windshield wipers set on high. I started to cut across the snow covered field behind our house. Barbecue balked at the alley. He whined a little. I looked around but didn't see anything he should be scared of, so I started across. Halfway across, I realized that he wasn't with me. I turned around. Barbecue was pacing back and forth, still in the alley. He was growling at the snow. The virgin snow. All my footprints had disappeared. I took a step back. The snow kinda poofed up, filling in my print. Barbecue was barking frantically, now. The other dogs in the 'hood started barking, too. I turned and ran.
Almost made it to the sidewalk. Something grabbed my foot. Started pulling me down under the snow. I heard Barbecue running up behind me. Growling and barking. He sounded really mad. My foot was loose now and I scampered to the sidewalk. I turned around. I didn't see Barbecue. There were no footprints in the snow. Not mine. Not his. My green hat was there sitting on top of the snow about five feet from the sidewalk. I left it there. Went on to the store. Came back the long way. Stayed on the sidewalks. When I got home, momma asked where my hat was. I told her the truth. I told her that I had put it on Barbecue's head. Momma asked me where Barbecue was. I told the truth.

I told her that I didn't know.

*

I started my new job. They told me I was supposed to answer the phone. The phone had lot's more buttons on it then I had ever used before. This guy called. He was very impatient. I tried to put him on hold. I kept pushing the wrong buttons. He called back. I tried to apologize. He told me that I was stupid. I tried to transfer his call, but I was nervous and kept pushing the wrong buttons. I felt something crawling on my ear. I brushed it quick off of my face. Something brown fell on to the desk. I snatched up the dictionary, so I could smash it. I thought it was a roach. For a second, it looked like a little man, in a little brown suit. But that's impossible, so I smashed it with the dictionary.

The rude man never did call back.

*

There is something in the walls. It can see me. It knows where I am in the apartment. If I go by a door, I hear it scratching on the inside. Closet doors. Kitchen cabinet doors. Refrigerator door. Medicine cabinet door. Doors to the outside.

It follows me around the apartment, inside the walls.

Scratching.

I'm not scared of it. If it can fit inside the medicine cabinet, it can't be all that big, can it? But, if I open the doors and let it out, it might move the newspapers.

Then the carpet will eat me.

Problem is I'm getting hungry and I haven't checked my mail for the last week.

*

My brother called and I told him about the scratching on the doors. He told me to open one and see if maybe Barbecue had come back. I told him that he was being silly. Barbecue was part-Collie. He wouldn't fit in the medicine cabinet. My brother laughed at me and I hung up on him. He hasn't called back.

That was a month ago.

I think.


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Acquanetta M. Sproule enjoys reading, watching and writing "What If?" stories. Off and on over 20 years, she has had poems, stories and illustrations published in the small press and online. Her blog is: niftynettta.blogspot.com