Heya Everyone! So this week I was kinda offered two prompts, and while neither really writing exactly either of them. I also kinda did... because that makes sense. I also don’t feel this is ‘true’ to my writing style, but it was fun. I had fun, and that's what counts.
Hope you like it :)
Prompt One: The house was on fire. And, you know, that's not really something I want to deal with this early in the morning.
Prompt Two: Why is there a demon under my bed?
Day One:
Dearest Diary, today has been an interesting one. For starters, the beeping that I THOUGHT was my alarm was not. In fact, it was the smoke alarm going off for what seems like the hundredth time. Although this time the house really was trying to burn down. That smoker that came with glowing references? She still doesn't know how to properly extinguish her cigarettes, and her midnight 'calm down' smoke started a fire. Needless to say, I kicked her out - and I need a new flatmate... again.
Thankfully the fire didn't spread too far out of her room, and barely touched my own, but everything is drenched from the firefighters having to put it all out. The insurance company has set me up at a motel on the opposite side of town until they can finish their investigation and replace everything that was damaged, and yes, there went my very nice no claims bonus. You can bet my ex-flatmate isn't getting her bond back.
So after my early morning, I had to trudge my way to university and borrow one of the library computers to reprint all the assignments I had due in. Thank goodness I save everything online, apparently, laptops and fire hoses aren't best friends. By the way, did you know the campus library opens at 6 am? Me neither, we both know mornings are not my strong suit.
But being up early was nice, I got to vent out all my anger and frustrations upon a poor punching bag at the gym, which is surprisingly empty before 5 am. No, I didn't break in, 24-hour gyms are a thing. Then go to the library, then I still had three hours until my first lecture started. So, naturally, I went out and had a nice breakfast. I got to take my time with everything, instead of shoving a piece of toast in my mouth and spilling coffee over my hand as I raced out the door.
Eggs and Bacon had never seemed to taste better, maybe I should get up earlier in the morning if just to have a nice breakfast without being stressed or rushed, and to finish a coffee without sneaking sips of it in between rush hour traffic driving. Oh! I even got a nice parking spot today, I suppose that's what happens when you find out at 3 am that your flatmate has tried to burn your apartment to the ground.
I drank more coffee than normal today as well, fighting off the urge to nap between classes or doze off on top of the notes I was forced to handwrite. Handwrite? Can you believe that? The only thing I hand write anymore is, well, in you diary. My wrist is aching, and I'm pretty sure my fingers have cramped up.
And you'd think that was the worst part of the day over right diary? That nothing worse could happen after that. I mean, how does one top their apartment nearly burning down and all their stuff soaked beyond belief?
Well, it did. On the way to the motel, I stopped to get the essentials, more food, clothes, hygiene things. You know, the stuff you take for granted until it runs out. Then I had to carry it all into the worst motel I have ever seen. You know those t.v. shoes that show horrible stinky little motels that you can't ever imagine being real? It was worse.
The room smelt like my ex-flatmate had invited over a huge group of her good for nothing friends, shut all the doors, and then chain-smoked until they couldn't see each other anymore. The curtains are this horrible patchy brown that I assume must have once been yellow? I can't be sure. The kitchen tops and counters are drowning in a mix of stains, hardened food, and charcoal black burns. Not to even start on the floor, there are holes in the carpet bigger than I am, and the floor underneath looks like a centuries old dogs bathroom. I can't even recount to you the horror of the blankets, pillows and sheets. They're currently shoved into a pile in one of the creaky cupboards, I had to go buy new ones, that I will burn myself after I'm done in this stupid place. I also brought nearly every cleaning product the nearby store had. If I have to live here I will make sure it's up to my standards. Who wants to shower in a tub that's browner than the curtains?
I didn't do any cleaning tonight though, all I could manage was making the bed before falling into it, finally able to fall asleep.
But clearly, I didn't stay asleep, did I. Because I'm writing in you. Once again awake at 3 am.
A strange noise startled me, almost like my ex-flatmate had started to stress clean at midnight again, it took me a moment to remember I was all alone, in a strange motel rather than snuggled under my duvets at home. I didn't want to look, praying it was all just a bad dream, a result of too much stress packed into one small day.
I couldn't resist, falling to the same traps that had seen countless women become victims in horror movies.
Diary, it was exactly like that. A being with copper-gold eyes was watching me in seemingly stunned silence. A scrubbing brush in its hand, soapy suds all over the bench top, and the light above the stove top on, illuminating it's black, scaly body.
It thanked me diary, for bringing it cleaning supplies. Well, after I'd stopped screaming and it had morphed into a normal looking guy. Apparently it, sorry, he has been trapped in this little motel room for years now, long before the motel had even been built, and no one ever thought to try to clean it up and make it a little nicer. In fact, people had been terrified of this room, due to his habit of eating the bad kind of humans.
He said he liked me though, and as long as I kept the place clean I could stay. He liked clean people, nice people. Then he wished me goodnight, put the cleaning supplies down, and disappeared beneath my bed.
Diary, there is a demon under my bed. I have no idea how I'm supposed to sleep now. What if he changes his mind? Really, I should run, get far away while I can.
but here I am, sitting at the little dining room table, all nicely cleaned, writing in you while I try to figure out what to do.
I have nowhere else to go, really... and he doesn't seem any worse than any of my other flatmates. Plus this is all only temporary, and I really am tired...
maybe I'll sleep on it. Figure it all out tomorrow.
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