Cottage Creep - Chapter 13
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It was after 3 when Ron slowly weaved in between the trees of
the front yard and parked his car. He fairly fell out as he opened
the door, and then he stumbled toward the house. He was either too
tired, or too drunk or perhaps all of the above, to remember his dread
of going inside at night, and he made his way upstairs into his
bedroom. He barely made it to his bed before he passed out.
There was a nerve shattering rattle in his head. No, it
wasn't from inside, it was a sound. It was a ring, a phone. Who
could be calling at this time of the morning? He forced his eyes open
to daylight. Groaning he stood up and made his way to the phone. He
was groggy, feeling as if he had only just lay down. The ringing
phone was tearing painfully through his mind.
"Hello?" he managed feebly into the phone.
"Hey Tom, its Ron," the phone seemed to say.
"Hey Ron. How are you? What's up?" Tom asked.
"Well, just letting you know that I'll be there about 2pm
tomorrow. Do you need me to pick anything up on the way?" Ron asked.
"What? Tomorrow? It's Saturday? I thought you were coming
next weekend," Tom said confused.
"No Tom, it's Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday. I told you last
Friday I would be coming up this weekend. Julie is out of town for
the weekend, and you asked me to come up and do some mud work. Are
you okay?"
"Yeah, sorry, I guess I just lost a few days or something.
I've been working pretty hard and I guess I just lost track of time.
I don't need you to bring anything special. Bring anything you want
to of course, but I have everything we need. So, I'll see you
tomorrow afternoon," Tom told his brother.
"Ok, see you then," Ron said and hung up.
Tom stared at the silent phone for several seconds before
hanging it up. He looked around blearily. "Friday?" he asked
himself. "It can't be. It was Friday night when I went out drinking.
It's got to be Saturday," he mumbled to himself as he made his way
carefully to the bathroom. He showered and dressed, and realized he
was starving. He was weak as he flowed down the stairs like a glacier
and into the kitchen. He raided the icebox and made a pot of coffee.
The coffee helped, but he couldn't seem to eat enough. Finally, after
eating three sandwiches and four donuts, he began to feel satiated.
He was still a bit drowsy but the coffee was helping to bring him
around.
He drank the entire pot of coffee before his head cleared
enough to think. Had he slept for 6 days? Was that possible? No, he
couldn't have. Yet, he had no memory of anything after going out
drinking Friday. Maybe he was still a bit sickly from last week.
That must have been it. Getting drunk while he was sick must have
really effected him more than he realized. Okay, so what had he done
this week he wondered.
He roamed around the house looking for signs of work he had
done while in his daze, but failed to find any new work he didn't
remember doing and when he had done it. By the time he made his
rounds he was convinced that despite any explanation he could really
believe, he had indeed lost a week. He remembered nothing.
