VamZombie WereWitch Girl and Demon Boy

2 - Infatuation

Enjoy and Vote :)

-November 20, San Diego CA-

It’s been two days since my hallucination, that demon that threw the car through the restaurant and since I’ve had no reoccurring incidents.  That’s good, I’m still considering going to a doctor but if the hallucinations don’t continue I really don’t see a point.  It is a hyperactive imagination, a one-time thing I hope.  Well, I’m back at the restaurant once more—it seems I’m always here.  This is my fifth day in a row now and I work tomorrow too, but now is the true test of my demon since I didn’t close the yesterday and left well before the time that it appeared a two days ago. 

The minutes go by slowly as the last of the crowd vacates the restaurant—no incident.  I drew the short stick today, vacuum the entire restaurant.  Since there was no major rush today and the restaurant is mostly empty I decide to start in the back rooms around 8:30, they’ve been empty since seven anyways.  I go to the back of the restaurant to grab the vacuum.  Now this isn’t some vacuum you’d see at home, no it’s an industrial grade backpack vacuum designed for heavy use.  And cleaning 3,500 square feet of carpet around tables every day of the week is certainly heavy duty. 

The vacuum itself is close to twenty pounds and as I pull the straps over my shoulders it reminds me of how my pony tail, now long gone, used to get stuck under the hefty weight.  Ah, those years were great, long bushy hair the girls used to get jealous of, surfing every moment I wasn’t at work or school, and loads of money I had no idea what to do with—benefits of living with my parents.  But that’s since changed, I moved out last year, my surfing pals all either moved up north or joined the armed forces to get shipped out, and that infinite source of money is a steady number that barely affords food after all my in-house expenses and rent.  Six days of working tables six to seven hours a day is brutal and exhausting, but its life at the moment. 

I start up the vacuum and begin my rotation in the first of the two back rooms, center—right—left, moving around the tables all the while to make sure I get everything.  I hate when I get in these moods, thinking about how life used to be—it’s rough.  But those easy moments can’t last forever.  I guess everything interesting with me started around tenth grade, there was this girl, Robin, captain of the surf team and I had a huge crush.  I couldn’t surf a damn, but I joined the team anyways—one of the many freeloaders who do it for P.E credits and an excuse to go to the beach three times a week.  This is not to say I went to high school at some beach school, but to the contrary, my school was the furthest inland of the county—right up against the mountainside and Alpine—about a thirty minute drive to the beach, twenty or so miles.

Anyways, something happened at the beach during the first practice.  The first practice is when everyone who signed up and paid got their gear and took a swim test which roughly meant swimming out behind the waves then back—easy.  I was in the second set to go out, with Robin, and when the coach said go we both darted out into the water with the thirteen or so other people on that rotation.  We all went out no problem but with a purple flash Robin went under the water right next to me and never came back up.  At first I figured she was just swimming under water and kept going, but after about thirty or so seconds found myself to be dead wrong.  I went under in a dive, and despite the pain of it opened my eyes to try and search the murky salt water. Nothing. 

She was just gone right in front of me.  I came back up for air fairly and close to the shore there was a sharp yelp from Keith, the guy captain of the team.  Red was running from Keith and into the surf as Robin was next to him checking out his foot.  I swam a bit then walked the rest of my way in, not sure how she was able to go under water then beat me to the shore. There I found out Keith had the unfortunate incident of stepping on a stingray on the way out for the third set, apparently I was waist deep and one of the last to come in from the second set and he only made it out to about his knees before meeting his painful doom.  The barb was all the way through his foot and he claimed it hurt like a bitch.  Point is, Robin helped him limp up to the parking lot as Keith’s dad—a sponsor of the team—took him to the hospital.  Guess that intimate moment with him moaning in the ripples stayed with her and she ended up drifting away from me and to Keith before she even knew I existed.