Page 5 of Hensley Manor
Okay, this just kept getting weirder and weirder.
“Yeah?” Not sure why that sounded like a question.
“I must say, that snow globe was one of my favorite items in the store. Hensley Manor is beautiful. You have a good eye.”
“It’s just a silly knick-knack.”
“Is it?” The woman smiled, and for the first time since meeting her, I didn’t feel as creeped out. Her smile was warm, and her eyes were kind. Strange old lady or not, she seemed harmless enough. “Perception is unique to each individual. Some might see the snow globe as a mere collector’s item. Some might think it’s junk. But maybe you’ll see it for what it truly is.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
A knowing look gleamed in her eyes. “An answer.”
“An answer to what?”
“That’s not for me to say. Only you can figure it out.” She squinted at the overcast sky. “Looks like it’s about to snow again. Almost seems like we’re in a snow globe and someone is tilting us upside down.”
“Yeah…sure.”
“You don’t believe in magic?” she asked.
“I did when I was five,” I said, shivering as a cold wind bit into me.
“Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” She walked back into the store and shut the door behind her, the bell dinging as it closed.
Christmas music played over the outside speakers of a diner. I moved down the sidewalk, hearing the notes ofSilver Bellsfade the farther I walked. A boy who looked to be around eight or nine and his dad walked past, and my chest got tight at seeing them. They talked about going to find a Christmas tree at the tree farm, and the boy smiled huge when the dad said he could choose whatever one he wanted.
I had flashbacks of me and my dad doing the same.
I fucking hate this time of year.
Before returning home, I stopped by the liquor store. I was off work for a few days because of vacation time I hadn’t used this year, so I didn’t have to worry about dealing with a hangover at the office the next morning.
Which was great because I intended to drink until I couldn’t drink anymore. I just wanted to be numb for a while.
As expected, the snow picked up again. By the time I reached the apartment complex, it was coming down hard. I shivered and unlocked my door before going inside. It wasn’t even dinner time, but I poured myself a strong drink, mixing whiskey and Coke. I downed one glass before pouring another. One of my neighbors played Christmas music, and I heard a kid laugh. The walls were so fucking thin. Sounded like a family was putting up their tree. Or, at least, that’s what I imagined.
I drank a third glass, glaring at the snow falling outside the window. Everyone was so damn happy. Everyone except for me, anyway. More laughter reached my ears, and I looked out the window to see a kid and his dad having a snowball fight in the yard.
Once upon a time, that had been me and my dad.
Why was I taking so many trips down memory lane today?
I fell onto the couch, clutching my drink to my chest. Tears stung my eyes, and I gulped the rest of the third glass. If I was still able to feel, I hadn’t drank nearly enough. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.
I turned my attention to the snow globe on the coffee table, staring at the manor through blurry eyes. A light seemed to flicker on in the downstairs window. I blinked and examined it closer, but the light was gone.
“I’m going crazy,” I muttered, before pouring more whiskey and downing it as a shot. The burn as it went down my throat was too damn good, so I took a second shot.
As liquor buzzed in my veins, I lay down on the couch and closed my eyes. The snow globe was beside me on the cushion, the glass cold on my arm. I didn’t feel like moving it, though. My lids were heavy, and my body was sluggish.
I heard the man whisper again, just like I’d heard him in the store last night. And with my eyes closed, I could even imagine his lips on my neck. His hands caressing my sides. It comforted me in a way alcohol never could. Even if it was just an overactive imagination.
Then, the whiskey took over, and I fell asleep.
Chapter Two
The first thing I noticed before opening my eyes was the silence. I liked my apartment; rent was cheap and it was in a good part of town. But the walls were thin, and if I wasn’t hearing the muffled sound from someone’s TV or the bed thumping against the wall from one of my neighbors who liked to have wild sex, I heard doors closing, footsteps going up and down the stairs, cars honking, and people calling out to each other.
