Under the Gray Willow Tree

Chapter 13

Want me to tell you what happened this week? Well, let's just say that nothing had really happened. Nothing interesting anyway. Well, maybe except the fact that all the 'threatening messages' from that one particular 'anonymous sender' had started all over again.

And, maybe, except that this time, the texts he or she send are a lot more prominent and frequent this time.

I would get a minimum of one per hour. Guaranteed. But that's just the minimum. He – or she – could sometimes even send one per ten minutes!

I am starting to wonder how that person managed to get so many ideas for a threat in one day. There is only a limit of things you can imagine or think of in a day. Even a very imaginative person also can't exactly get that many... Imaginations... In a day.

I wish my phone has that 'black list' function as some phones do, but sadly, it doesn't. And I can't exactly switch off my phone for twenty-four-seven, so... Yeah!

I opened yet another message from the guy... Or girl...

"You think you are safe, don't you? But you have no idea how wrong you are. Because, I watch your every move. And I also know exactly where you are... Right... Now..."

I sighed as I opened the 'Options' button to delete the message. I do not get it at all! What does he – or she – want with me? I have nothing worth their time. So, why target me? Why not all those rich kids who live down the road and stuff?

Gray might know about this – considering that he always goes through my messages and he found out one day by total accident – but he said that this is nothing. He said, I quote, that 'it is probably some random kid who finds me a threat and is jealous of me and stuff'. At least, that's what he claims. But seriously, this is getting pretty freaky.

The creaking of a door immediately snapped me out of my thoughts. It can't be him can it? Oh, what a ridiculous thought I am having. It most definitely cannot be my stalker. That's pretty much impossible. All he's trying to do is to scare me. But someone, other than me, is definitely in this house.

I dunked the paintbrush that I was holding into a see-through cup of crystal clear water and left it at that, as a shade of light purple started spreading throughout the cup of water.

I pushed the chair back and got up slowly from it. I walked slowly towards the door, being sure to be careful.

"Boo," someone breathed all of a sudden into my left ear as I was turning to look back at the table.

I jumped up in utmost surprise. "Ahh!" I screamed as loudly as I could.

Suddenly, the sound of someone laughing reached my ears. My ear perked up to the very sound of it and my eyes darted around the room to find the source of laughter. When my eyes finally landed on the owner of the voice, I found him rolling on the floor, laughing like a maniac who desperately needs to go to a mental hospital.

I scowled at him. "What the heck did you do that for?" I demanded, directing my question to the rolling maniac-y figure on the floor.

He stopped laughing. "You should have seen your face. It was priceless. I should've taken a picture!" he gasped in just one breath.

Then he started laughing all over again.

I rolled my eyes. When he paused just now, I thought he was over with the laughing. But boy was I wrong. But instead, much to my disappointment – and somehow, amusement – he continued roaring with laughter, much, much harder than before.

I chuckled briefly, and walked over to where he was rolling on the floor, and dragged him right to the outside from inside the art room. He's heavy, yes, but at least the annoying sound of laughing won't have to fill my ears anymore. Then, I walked back into the room.

"You are most welcome to come back in once you have stopped with your laughing spree," I told him formally, with a strong tone of finality in my voice, before slamming the door shut with my full force right in his face.

I don't care if he thinks that I am rude. It's not me who's rude, it's him. For laughing at me for something I couldn't help but doing.

I mean, come on! Who wouldn't scream their head off if someone just suddenly breathe something into the ear of the victim? And the victim is obviously not expecting it. They only do that by instinct. It's freaky after all. Who in the right mind would not scream – or at least jump – when that happens?

Use some sense people!

Unless you want to use dollars...

Get it? Get it? Hmm... I thought you would... But ah well!

But I don't feel bad in the least for locking Gray in the living room. He is still in the house after all. I might feel a little bad if I locked him outside though. But maybe not. Because, after all, this is technically my house, not his.

I sighed as I plopped back into the chair behind the table by the window. I just sat there, not feeling like continuing my painting, nor do I feel like starting another one from scratch. But I do know what I feel like doing. Nothing at all.

I just stared at the light purplish water that was swirling around in the cup, which looked so gorgeous with the streaks of sunlight that it reflected. My brush was still dunked inside the cup, with dark purple seeping out from the bristles of it.

I just stared at it intently, observing it from all angles, like an artist always does when something amuses them. And after five minutes – well, give or take five minutes anyways, I can't be so sure – the door swung open. Scowling, because whoever opened that door interrupted my time of staring at the cup, I turned back.

"What?" I snapped, clearly annoyed.

"Well hello to you to," Gray chirped way too cheerfully for my liking.

I raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, trying to ask him the unspoken question that's in the air: What are you doing here?

"What?" he asked, trying to sound innocent. "I have stopped laughing after all, haven't I?"

I just continued staring at him, at first angrily, then curiously, and now, just amusingly, urging him silently to say something.

"Well, if you are trying to imply that I am still laughing as of right now – which apparently, I somehow did not know – it means that all the dictionaries – along with the rest of the world, except you – has misinterpreted the word 'laughing'," he told me, awkwardly formally.

He grinned at me. I fake pouted. "Smart ass," I muttered, trying to keep my voice quiet, but deliberately failing at that.

"Why thank you," he replied, mocking happiness.

"Bleh," I fake gagged this time.

And he started his laughing fit all over again. But this time, I joined in.

After laughing until our stomach hurts like crazy and we can't stand it anymore, so, we try our best to stop. After that, we walked into the living room, and just as we about to sit down on the sofa, I felt a sudden rush of cold air sweep across my face. I looked up.

And there stood a guy in his mid-twenties, with brown hair and emerald green eyes. I turned to look at Gray in panic. Fear started flashing in his eyes. Before all the colour drained out of his face, making it look as if a ghost had just appeared in front of his eyes.

A blonde haired, brown eyes girl stepped up from behind the guy. What is she doing here? Who is she? And another more crucial question, who is he?

I have no clue what the next thing that happened is supposed to mean. But what I did know, is that it really surprised me the most.

"What are you two doing here?" Gray gasped desperately and frantically from beside me. "Geraldine. Desmond."

MWA-HA-HA!

Lol... == Anyways, I hope you'll stick around for more! I might upload tomorrow, but it's not a promise ya? :D