Page 43 of Fate Fiction

There were things that happened today that I could have chalked up to my warped perspective, but his fingertips brushing against my hand was very real. The ghost of his failed touch lingered on my skin.

Synapses actively formed to create new types of anxiety. Even in the pitch darkness of the cabin, my mind flashed with images of the little moments that bewildered me today. It was unavoidable.

I envisioned mundane tasks to neatly box up my thoughts, getting gas, grocery shopping, chopping vegetables. I fought to pull Evan free from my imagination. It started working.

Right as my eyes grew heavy, a loud scratching sound shook me awake.

It could be branches tapping against the window in the breeze, or a deer walking by and crunching on a twig.

The scratching started up again.

There were no floodlights or street lamps to cast a glow on the ground. The only light I had was the soft glow of the moon and my phone flashlight, which I was silently fumbling to find.

What if I touched whatever was making the scratching sound? I slapped my palm against my phone and shrieked. Once I realized I hadn’t accidentally touched a massive, flat bug, I flicked on the flashlight.

The dim beam of light panned up the wall until it met the black beady eyes of some…creature.

Another shriek, and my phone tumbled out of my hands onto the floor, the flashlight shining directly into my eyes. I jumped up and grabbed the phone, panning around in search of where this thing ran off to after I screamed at it.

The light hit its tiny, furry body and before I could identify what it was it leapt and glided across the bedroom to the other side.

Somehow, a flying squirrel managed to get into not just my cabin, but specifically, my bedroom.

I threw a sweatshirt on, pulling the hood over my head so it couldn’t land in my hair, and saying a silent prayer of thanks that it hadn’t already.

My phone flashlight wasn’t enough. I had to illuminate this cabin with every gas lamp inside. So, like a character in a Charles Dickens novel, I ran from lamp to lamp, shakily lighting the mantle with a match. The room was heating up and I was beginning to sweat in my hoodie, but I refused to give this rodent a nest.

The squirrel disappeared from my sight again, and I crouched on a chair as still as I could manage so it would reappear.

The cabin door opened and I shrieked again. I assumed it was a mutant, larger squirrel coming to hunt me down as payback for frightening its child.

Instead it was a very tired looking Evan.

Apparently my panic woke him up.

A cherry on top of the awkward way our night ended.

“Oh god, Evan, fuck, sorry, did I wake you?” I asked from my perch. My eyes kept darting to the floor beside him, hoping the animal would scurry out the door on its own.

“No, no, I was still awake,” it was apparent this was a half lie, but he seemed intrigued, as though this was the more interesting alternative to his own restless thoughts.

I couldn’t think about that right now. I had a squirrel to chase out.

“Can I ask what you’re doing?” He put a hand behind his head, barely lifting up the white cotton t-shirt he was wearing to reveal a strip of his abs.

Focus. Focus on the problem at hand here.

“There’s a flying squirrel somewhere in here,” I said, still in disbelief that the animal made its way inside.

“A what?” he stammered.

I was too flustered to properly answer, “the, uh, little rodents that can glide around?”

There wasn’t time to play Audubon Society with him, I was pacing around searching dark corners for any sign of it. Evan crossed his arms and haphazardly also looked around the room.

“I know what a flying squirrel is, I didn’t think that they’d be here?”

“Well I certainly don’t think I invited it in,” I said in a huff.