Natural Being
Chapter 1 <Part 1/3>
It was late afternoon. The setting sun cast a reddened haze over the few clouds that dotted the horizon, and the chilling air forewarned of night’s coming. School had let out hours ago, and the streets of the neighborhoods were slowly emptied of their rowdy playmates as dinner time approached. The dried up leaves crunched under my feet as I ambled down the cracked sidewalk of a deserted, suburban street. The concrete was still damp from the previous rain, and the smell of wet asphalt lingered in the mid-autumn air.
I stopped short at the next street, “Let’s see now, Walker Street.” I studied the name scribbled on the scrap of paper I held, then at the nearest street sign. “Yep.” Sure enough, printed on the faded green sign, the name ‘Walker St.’ loomed proudly overhead. “Okay. Now I just have to find 1543.”
My English teacher had given us an assignment to write a journal entry on a current event based around the career of our interest—a bit monotonous in my opinion, but most school related assignments are. Thus, I am forced to search out for a nearby veterinarian and probe them for information. Luckily the phonebook had a list of all of the community vets, and I was able to find one close by.
Walker Street was in a pleasant area of the city. There were middle-class houses with large, manicured lawns, and the occasional tire swing in the front yard. It was all clean and well kept, but a bit too “Desperate Housewives” for my taste.
I made my way down the street, routinely checking the street numbers for 1543 and hummed to myself as my feet scuffed across the pavement. As the numbers neared 1543, I noticed that the sweeping landscape of the previous housing had become heavily forested. Leaves covered the ground in a blanket of reds and yellows, and the massive branches interwove near the canopy, blocking most of the sunlight.
“If it wasn’t for the top security here, I’d be expecting some guy to jump out and mug me.” I thought to myself, laughing at the corniness of the situation.
The entrance to the animal hospital was dim and unkempt. No lights were on inside, and I had to wade through an ankle high sea of leaves to get to the front door. Cobwebs draped across the dusty window, and vines were weaving their way up one of the brick walls.
“What kind of place is this? It looks like it hasn’t been used in years,” I pulled the crumpled up piece of paper out of my back pocket to check if the address was right—I had a tendency for brief dyslexic episodes when checking numbers. To my surprise, the number on the paper matched the scratched, painted ones on the door.
“Good Lord,” I moaned and stuffed the number back in my pocket. “Stupid phonebook must’ve been an old issue.”
I had told Mom to order a new one, but she figured that anyone who was worth calling would either give his number, or just call her. Unfortunately, she hadn’t planned on the fact that school projects usually required some form of outside contact.
I sighed and collapsed on the front step. I had walked nearly three full miles just to end up at a dead end, not to mention that now I had to find a new person to interview, and I only had two weeks to do it. I hate procrastinating. A strong wind rustled through the surrounding trees and sent the sea of dried leaves spilling into the bank behind the driveway. A storm was coming. But the cool breeze felt good, and the forest scenery gave me a sense of peacefulness that had become a scarcity ever since the start of high school.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the front door, stretching my arms above my head. As I did, there was a soft click and the door swung open from under me. I let out a quick squeak, and there was a loud thud as I landed flat on my back in a pile of dust.
“Owie,” I groaned, slowly sitting myself up. “What the hell was that about?” I stood and brushed myself off, massaging the back of my head where it had collided with the hardwood floor. The long, drawn-out screeching of the door hinges diverted my attention from the lump forming on my head to the odd surroundings of the room I was so unexpectedly dropped into.
The room wasn’t much different from any other veterinary office—with the exception of spider webs consuming the upper corners and dust coating all of the open surfaces.
“Thank God I’m not allergic.” I said, covering my nose and mouth as I lifted a manila folder from what seemed to be the front desk. “Whoever was the secretary wasn’t very organized.”
The desk was not only in desperate need of a good cleaning, but the entire countertop was covered with scrambled, unlabeled folders with papers spilling out onto the floor.
“Hmm,” I flipped through the one folder I held in my hands. “Minerva Green: can’t say I know her.” A wallet-sized picture of a calico puffball decorated the top right-hand corner of the patient profile sheet. “But I like her cat.” Placing the folder back on the cluttered desk, I continued to the back room—I can’t help that I’m nosey as hell.
The sun was just dipping below the horizon, and the last rays of daylight shown through the smudged windows and lit the dim hallway just enough for me to see where I was going. There were only three rooms off the hallway, and two of them were the usual operating rooms. Unfortunately, to my utter disappointment, the previous vet had made sure to remove all the surgical equipment—including the scalpels, which were my personal favorite.
The third room was where the animals were kept. It was a rather large room, in comparison with the rest of the building. There was one window, and the floor was cold concrete—no doubt to make clean-ups much easier. A metal cabinet crouched in one of the corners, and I could see a bag of dog food sitting open next to two dishes just to the left of it. My mouth went dry at the thought of how stale the kibble must be.
“Poor dogs,” I thought. But as I glanced at the opposite side of the room, all I saw was an odd open space with rust and urine stains where several cages would’ve been.” But of course,” I scolded myself, feeling rather foolish for not noticing. “This place has obviously been out of business for a while. The vet would’ve taken the animals with him.”
I thumped myself on the head and turned to leave. But as I exited the room, a low, distant rumble resonated throughout the room. My heart jumped and I spun back around, pressing myself up against the nearest wall. I wasn’t taking any chances. People were psycho these days, and I had no intention of being on the next ‘Have you seen me?’ bulletin on the back of a milk carton. Luckily, I was still alone—as far as I knew—and after a quick and careful examination, I discovered that the sound was emanating from what seemed to be a closet door. This is just great. A young girl, in a deserted building at sunset, with weird sounds coming from a closet. How horror movie can you get?
The angel on my shoulder would’ve said that I needed to leave ASAP and that it wasn’t safe to be here. However, she also had white, puffy wings and wore a frilly dress…who would really listen to something like that? So against my better judgment, I cautiously made my way across the room to the door. Placing one hand on the door, so I could slam it and run if something leaped out at me, I grasped the knob, turned, and opened slowly.
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