Kerchow

KERCHOW

Steven should have known better.

KABOOM * POW * BANG * KERCHOW

A few moments later…

“You okay? What happened?” Emily asked.

“Fine. Why?” Steven didn’t look up.

“Didn’t you hear that?”

“What?”

“That explosion. WHAT was THAT?” Emily gushed.

“I don’t know.”

“Want to go find out?” Emily asked.

“No.” Steven didn’t look up.

“Do you know what that was?”

“I already know.”

“Let’s go see.”

“I don’t need to.”

“So, you know what happened?”

“I have a guess.” Steven kept writing.

KABOOM * POW * BANG * KERCHOW

“There it is again. What happened?”

“I have my suspicions.” Steven kept writing.

AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGG

“Serious, what was THAT? Sounds like a woman screaming.”

AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGG

“THAT!” Emily yelled.

“Oh that? Nothing. Should have been a man scream.” Steven kept typing.

“What do you mean nothing? Who is screaming?” Emily asked. “What chapter is this?”

“Hang on.” Steven typed the next line. “I’m editing chapter forty-two.”

*KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK

“Who’s knocking?” Emily asked.

“Pizza boy. It’s for you,” Steven said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am,” Steven said and kept typing.

‘I should have known better than to trust you to know what I want.’ he typed, then paused. Steven deleted the last line. Wrote it again. ‘I should have known better, to come here empty handed when you’re hungry.’

Emily walked to the door.

“Steven, I thought you said it was pizza. He brought tacos.” Emily held a greasy brown bag. It smelled of cilantro and ground beef.

“Now I’m hungry.” Steven stopped typing to eat tacos.

“Want to watch a sunset?” Steven asked.

“How? It’s ten in the morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I can make it happen,” Steven said and went back to typing.

A few moments later…

“How’d you do that?” Emily asked.

“Do what?”

“Steven, do you want to go watch the sunset with me?” Emily asked.

“If you tell me I’m pretty and don’t talk.”

“Grab your jacket. Promise to be quiet,” Emily said.

“You promise. Sure. I do love sunsets, the quiet ones.” Steven got up from his desk.

Steven and Emily stepped out of the cabin, standing together facing the red, pink, and gold hues of the sky. Admiring the peace and joy, the simplicity of the moment. Twenty-three years together, now empty nesters, chasing after sunsets and dancing in the rain moments. At least that’s how Steven wrote it. Tomorrow would be a thunderstorm in the morning. He would add in a double-rainbow, bears like rainbows.

Steven sensed strange movement beside him and looked over. He watched with curiosity the strangest thing he’d ever seen. He would have to do some heavy editing. The Bee Gees were singing, Queen would be better for this chapter.

Emily, oblivious to her surroundings and Steven. Her eyes closed, hands in the air, shaking a fist as if she didn’t care. With her knowing the rules, remained silent. It’s what Steven wrote.

Steven cleared his throat, “Are you having a seizure?”

“Nope, it’s called dancing.”

“What dance move is that, the dying flamingo? The confused scarecrow? Ka, from Cirque du Soleil? What are you doing, summoning something?” Steven asked.

“I don’t know, you wrote it.” Emily started to laugh.

Steven should have known better.

Steven looked at his watch. The hands glowed. Eleven and two. The rabid raccoons would appear momentarily. There should be time to edit and start the next chapter.

Steven and Emily walked back inside the cabin. The lights flickered.

“What was that?” Emily asked.

“I think the computer battery needs to be charged.” Steven walked to the computer. “Hum, that’s interesting.”

Emily walked over and looked at what Steven was looking at. A very pretty blue screen on the computer.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Emily asked.

“In chapter twenty.”

“What chapter are we?” Emily asked.

“Eleven.” Steven tapped the computer esc key. Emily disappeared. Steven tapped the esc key, again. Emily reappeared.

“That’s a no touch zone. Stop pushing my button,” Emily said. “Don’t touch it again. I’ll rewrite the story.”

Emily grabbed the printed pages from the desktop and read the end of chapter eleven. She flipped the pages to read the end of chapter twelve.

“Kiss me,” Emily said.

“The feral witch hasn’t come out of the wardrobe yet,” Steven said and pointed to the corner of the room. No witch or wardrobe had appeared yet, chapter thirteen.

“I thought you were writing a romance?”

“I did some editing,” Steven said and grabbed the pages from Emily. He read chapter eighteen.

“Awoooga,” Emily said.

“What was that?” Steven asked.

“Chapter nineteen. You should know, you wrote it.” Emily grabbed the pages from Steven.

*KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK

“Who’s knocking?” Steven asked.

“The FBI. I hear the SWAT helicopter overhead,” Emily said. “Rescue mission. Chapter thirty-three.”

“I didn’t write that,” Steven took the pages back and thumbed to chapter twenty-nine. “It’s supposed to be a bear.”

“Bears don’t knock,” Emily said.

“They do if they are care bears,” Steven said with a laugh. “Opposable thumbs. They have feelings, Emily. And heart-shaped belly badges.”

“Can you fight a bear?” Emily asked.

“No. But, I have chapstick.” Steven kept reading.

“What happens next?” Emily asked.

“Screaming.”

“You or me?” Emily asked.

“Them.”

“Them? Who’s them?” Emily asked. She tried to take the pages back from Steven. He twisted so she couldn’t reach.

Steven kept reading. He skipped past four blank pages. Steven should have known better, he can’t edit a blank page.

Silence. The lights go out. Steven can’t read the next page. He would do heavy editing for this chapter.

He didn’t remember this scene in his novel.

He waved his hands around. Felt nothing but air. He waved again. A futile attempt to find Emily close by. He spun around. Darkness and the smell of burnt toast.

A moist, hot breeze passed his cheek and then his ear. A small voice whispered. A tingle trickled down his spine. Something scratched at the door. The hair on Steven’s arms stood up straight.

“Emily?” Steven called out into the darkness. Silence. “Emily? Where are you?”

“Over here, my dear. Follow my voice. Come to me, over here, Steven.”

Steven gripped the pages in his trembling hand. Careful to step through the dark room, attentive to follow Emily’s voice. The room smelled of fresh bread and lasagna.

Moisture droplets sprinkled his forehead, a small drop of sweat dripped across his upper lip. His shoulders hitched up to his ears. The tingles in his toes started to itch. Mariah Carey started singing. Steven would edit for David Bowie to sing, he preferred Under Pressure in chapter thirty-five.

“Over here honey. Don’t be scared. Nothing to worry about. Keep following my voice,” Emily said. Steven followed her voice.

A sliver of light around the doorway appeared across the room.

A voice behind Steven yelled, “Hey, you guys, over here.” That should have been Emily. Chapter thirty-six. It wasn’t her voice it sounded like those Goonies. Steven would edit in new neighbors later, and watch The Wizard of Oz. He preferred Toto.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are — you’re the hero, you’re the star,” Emily said. “Keep following my voice, so I can say ‘op, there you are.’ There’s no place like home, Steven.”

Steven opened the door. The door creaked slowly on its hinges. The music softened. Fog hung across the floor, a faint green glow. Steven would edit the fog to be red for dramatic suspense.

Steven scanned the new room. A four-post king size bed, sixteen-foot tall dresser, three pairs of shoes sat in the corner beside a blue squeaky dog toy. Steven didn’t remember the novel having a dog.

Lightening flashed, thunder rumbled and shook the floor. Steven would not have written this in chapter forty-four.

He startled and jumped when he saw Emily.

There, sat Emily, in a rocking chair, in the corner of the room. She was holding a black cat, stroking it from head to tail. She was now dressed in a black bathrobe, a red scarf around her neck, red ruby slippers on her feet. Her eyes had turned a monster blue-green and a flame of fire danced across her left eyebrow. Her hair was now jet black with stars that sparkled on the crown atop her head.

“What are you doing in here?” Steven asked. “What are you wearing?”

“What the story tells me to do,” Emily said.

She started to rock, slow motion: front to back, front to back.

The cat, in her lap, meowed. The bellows of hell sound filled the room with a low clank-clank-clank of a cow bell.

KABOOM * POW * BANG * KERCHOW

*KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK

Steven trembled and shook. He looked down. He was now wearing khakis.

“I didn’t write this,” Steven said.

“I did,” Emily said with a laugh. “Bazinga.”

Steven should have known better.