I Might Be Slightly Insane

The Missing Piece - III

The next day Christian woke up with a jolt to find himself on the bed, tucked beneath the thick duvet. The sun was already high up, probably close to noon. His phone was still by the nightstand, everything was the way they were suppose to be, not a sock out of place. He felt the house spinning, a pounding headache assaulted his brain along with a million and one questions. What happened? Last night. How did I get here? Was it a dream? It felt too real to be a dream. It was too bizarre for reality as well. A bolt of pain shooting up to his head cut off his train of thought. God dammit. 

Throwing off the cover, his feet was cushioned with the lush carpet as he made a wobbly march towards the bathroom. Putting his head under the running tap, the cool water snapped him out of his hazy state. A chill ran down his spin as the cold raised goose-bumps on his skin. Letting out a long held in breath, Christian lifted his head to find a woman’s face staring at him through the mirror. His feet tripped on the slippery tiles as he stumbled backwards wide eyed but in a flash it was gone, replaced by his own frightened reflection again. His arms clung desperately onto the bathtub, his legs felt like jelly and his heart was racing with light.

Somewhere in the bedroom, the phone ran. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he dragged himself up and moving with a hand on the wall.

“Hello?” he said to the phone weakly once he made it to the bed.

“Morning, Christian. Jasper here. I brought some of the electric guys to come and have a look at your problem. I see the door’s unlocked but I didn’t want to barge in." 

“Ah, yeah, right. Give me a minute, I’ll be right down.”

He had no recollection of how he managed it but Christian soon found himself dressed and briefing two men in electric uniforms about the storm last night and how lightning might have struck the house, blowing up the power supply. At one point, he must have said it’s alright for the men to go in and have a check because not long after he was wandering around the bushy garden and yard aimlessly on his own. He let his feet carried him without so much a thought, soon finding out the had led him to the strange statue he’d seen Jasper caress the day before.

Intrigued, he stepped closer, mimicking the gardener’s actions when his hand reached out to touch that of the statue. There was something about the weeping angel that was so beautiful yet heart-breaking and achingly familiar to him.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Said a voice from behind, snapping him out of his trance. He turned around to see the gardener doing his job, trimming a bush with a pair of oversized scissors.

“Yeah,” Christian replied, kneading his brows. There was something about this man that suggested to him he might know a thing or two about his bizarre experiences last night. The only thing left is how to ask the man about it. How do people start this kind of conversation anyway. 

“Uhm, I know you must have heard this a lot,” he fumbled for words, “but, is it true that the house is, you know…”

“Haunted?” He finished the question for him.

“Err, yeah. Not that I believe it or anything but it’s just…”

“It’s alright,” Jasper cut in, saving him from the dreadful task of finding a way to end that awkward sentence, “People ask that all the time, I always give the same answer. People tend to stick around to listen to it, well, if they have the patience for a little story time that is.”

He shrugged, “I have the day off.”

“If this one doesn’t scare you, you’re already dead,” the gardener joked, putting his tools aside and squatted down comfortably on the ground, motioning the other man to join him.