AWAKENED

A cryptic piece that I am submitting to a writing contest. See if you can get it!

Oh, and I've gone ahead and changed my name to Rine. Yes, hello, it's Squirrel XD

AWAKENED

The birds had hardly begun to sing and I was minding my own business, putting the dishes away in the cupboards where they belonged. Plates on top of other plates, and silverware neatly arranged in the individual spots for forks, knives, spoons, and other utensils.

I smiled. Everything was where it should be, not a spoon out of line. I then turned around to gaze upon my equally neat house and stopped with a shudder. There, at the table, with his plate placed lopsidedly across the placemat, was my son, dumping cereal into a bowl that was just as out of place as his plate. He slouched as he sauntered to the fridge to find the milk, and, seeing me eyeballing him with a cautionary glare, waved.

“G’morning, Mom,” he grunted, scratching his arm. The fridge door was wide open, and I felt the warmth being sucked out of the kitchen. He pulled the milk out of its niche, knocking the ketchup over as he did so.

“Good morning, Akiel. Oh, your hair is such a mess! And your shirt- Ugh! Don’t you have anything CLEAN to wear?” I stalked around him in a circle before honing in on his rumpled and messy hair. I poked my finger into the curly mess for almost a second before reeling back and yanking my appendage away from his head.

His hair, a dark brown, was so much like his father’s: curly, nearly unmanageable, and extremely thick. Under the current circumstances, however, Akiel’s hair was anything but attractive. It was oily, knotted, and just gross in general. As his mother, I took it upon myself to look disgusted. I looked over at the clock. He still had half an hour until the bus would come.

“Akiel, as soon as you are done with that cereal, you are going straight up to the bathroom and taking a shower. You had BETTER use the shampoo I got you.”

My son groaned and drove his spoon into his cereal. “But mom, showering doesn’t do anything! It’s useless, my hair is just going to be a rats’ nest forever.” He blinked at me in the same apathetic fashion his father used to when he wanted to make a point.

“I don’t care,” I sighed, shrugging off the memories of my husband. “Eat, then get in the shower.”

I turned around and looked back at the dishes, all still neatly in their place. I realized that I had left the cupboard open. I turned to see Akiel busy eating, seeming to have not noticed, and hastily shut the doors.

I stood, looking out the window in silence. I could see very little in the darkness, but my mind filled in the blanks with the chaos, havoc and disorder that I knew was out there.

As Akiel slowly finished his cereal and went upstairs for his shower, I noticed a book on the kitchen counter to my left that simply hadn’t been there before. I looked around. Other than the mysterious appearance of the book, nothing had changed. The countertop was spotless, pure, clean. Unchanged.

I took a few steps toward the book. It had a brown, leather cover with various different stains, burns and gashes on it. The pages were puffy and spread out, and the only thing in the way of the book simply fanning open was a thin, stained elastic cord. The book looked like it wanted to tell the whole world what it had inside it.

The book’s gravity was so intense. I had never before felt such magnetizing intrigue. I gently ran my fingers along the spine, turning the book ever so slightly on its side. The smooth feel of it made me shudder, as though opening it would bring about the end of time. Everything in my body was shrieking, “Don’t do it! Don’t open that book!”

Suddenly, I realized what I was doing, and I pulled my hand back. I was right; it was a bad idea to mess with things that just suddenly appear out of nowhere. I turned around and tried to busy myself with taking care of Akiel’s dirty dishes that he hadn’t bothered to put away.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop turning around to look at the little book.
Finally, curiosity got the best of me. With a trembling hand outstretched toward the mysterious book, I began to ease toward the counter once again. The dishes in my other hand were suddenly released, and shattered on the floor with an ear-piercing crash.
Struggling for control over my trembling arm, I wrapped my weak, sun-deprived fingers around the thin elastic. It felt as thick as thread, as frail as a spider web. Instead of pulling it off of the hook as I intended, it snapped off. I jumped, pulling my arm back. The pages softly fanned open and stopped moving with a quiet “shoof.”
The book fell open to page thirty-three.
I stared in awe at the creature drawn on the page. It looked like an odd cross between a lizard and a dog; something you would envision while reading a fantasy novel. Its head was that of a dog’s, but it was covered in scales. The page was written and drawn entirely in black ink, but I imagined the creature to have sickly yellow scales, eerie red eyes, and a ghastly white mane.
The writing. I suddenly realized that the writing looked very familiar. My husband’s writing. I gently ran my finger along the notes. I felt my eyes burn with the threat of tears. I shrugged it off as best I could and began to read the writing.
“Tuesday the Fifth
Just yesterday, we discovered the creature that has been wreaking havoc across Michigan. We are unsure of what it is, but it seems to be a new species. It seems very unconcerned with us and seems to think it is one of us. If it weren’t an amalgamation, it would actually be kind of cute.
“Friday the Eigth
I was bitten by the creature! The wound is repulsive. It’s swollen, red, and a bit yellow in places. We only just managed to stop the bleeding. It’s really quite disgusting, but it will probably be better within the week. The rest of the lab is running some tests to see whether or not the creature is venomous. I am skeptical; I feel just fine.
“Sunday the Tenth
I was incredibly distressed this morning when I woke up, went to wash my face, and found that I have scales on my face. While this is a very interesting revelation, it is also a great tragedy- what will the laboratory tell my wife and son if we cannot cure this ailment?
“Thursday the Fourteenth
I am turning into the creature itself! The others cannot find any way to slow down or reverse the process, and have decided that it would be best to contact my family notifying them that I have perished. I requested only that they told Akiel and Vierra the truth, though my request was denied. It is becoming increasingly difficult to write; I will soon be unable to write any more.” From the Fifteenth onward, the writing was a boggling mass of scratches, scribbles, and a grimy pawprint. The rest of the pages were blank. I frantically flipped through the book, praying for any sign indicating that my husband had survived. I dropped the book to the counter and thrust my head into my hands. Salty tears poured from my eyes. I peeked through my shield once more, and saw one final message for me on the last page of the book.

“Savin Montreach, 1971-2011”

As my eyes passed over the final number, I could take no more. I fell to the ground, clutching my throbbing head.

“Mom! Wake up, Mom!”
Akiel’s frantic voice rang true and clear through my ears. He shook my shoulders violently, jolting me out of my grief. I looked at him and threw my arms around him. He stiffened, unsure how to take the gesture.
“Mom, are you okay? What happened?”
“Akiel, tell me. How long has Savin been... dead?”
“About two years, Mom,” Akiel whispered sadly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I didn’t answer my son. I hugged him tightly and mourned my husband’s death.

When I finally composed myself and looked around the room, I saw nothing but a mess. Garbage, dishes, and dust were everywhere. This was not right!

“How long has the house been like this, Akiel?”

“Ever since Dad died.”

The rest of the day went as well as it can, when one finally grieves. I stepped outside for the first time in two years. The sun’s rays frolicked on my skin, and the breeze toyed with my hair. Under the kitchen window was a little flower garden, weedy and dead from neglect. For just a moment, I thought I saw a pawprint in the clumped dirt, but I couldn’t be sure.