luellyn

 

the costume house was huge and dark. there were 7 floors, i needed something from each one and the freight elevator was wheezing, ancient and seemed to be moving in actual slow motion. i could feel my body flooding with stress hormones as i checked my phone for the time- as usual there was not enough to do what had to be done. i stood still. watched the numbered floor indicators light up lazily one after the other and organized my mind while i made a conscious effort to unclench my jaw. to my left there were period stockings hanging in a dense tangle at eye level. i turned my eyes up to check the crawling numbers above the elevator and then immediately back at the stockings. recognition had pinged in my brain and i realized the writing pinned to some of the stockings was my own. how could that be? i was in texas in a house i had never visited, right? i shoved my arm into the curled vines of dead silk and grabbed several tags pulling them close so i could read them in the dim light. yes, yes and yes...all my writing. my head started to spin. where was i again? texas, yes. so how in the world- just then a voice behind me said, 'it is your writing, shandra.' i jerked my head toward the voice and saw luellyn staring at me with the same crazy glen close fatal attraction expression that had kept me away from her for years and years. suddenly i felt trapped. the giant warehouse felt like the inside of an iron maiden. i felt the muscles in my jaw snap back into bands of steel. i glued my eyes to the amber lights above the freight elevator and wondered if i would ever feel relaxed and human again.