This is another attempt at flash-writing based on one of the prompts from Inspiration Monday XIII (late, I know but I’ve since been inspired with too many other posts so it had to wait a bit!) (http://bekindrewrite.wordpress.com/2011/05/23/inspirtion-monday-xiii/):
“How looooooonnnnnnnng, must this go ooooonnnnnnn!”
“Give it a rest you saddo – some of us were looking for a quiet night.”
“Ah, get lost. You love it when I croon.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Sure you do. Don’t like it? Leave.”
“Ah shut up.”
Libby shrugged and turned back to her mascara. She was used to Jason’s responses to her moments of madness. He loved it really and she did her best to take advantage of it – always pushing him to the limit every time she had the chance. Which she did every Saturday night when they hit the town. He always loosened up once they settled in their favourite booth in the bar. Amazing what a few drinks could do to loosen up a man’s inhibitions and set him free to dance and sing with the best of them. The fact that they were non-identical twins only made it more amusing.
“So, where are we off to?” She asked, knowing the answer already.
“The usual – no point in breaking with tradition, right?”
“Nope.” She turned to face him catching a flicker of something out the corner of her eye. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Jason barely looked up from scratching at the loose mud on his shoes.
“I dunno. Something outside the window.”
“Probably a bird. Or a bat.”
“Yeh. Guess so.” She turned back to him and shrugged the moment off. “So are you going like that or you planning on making a bit of an effort today?”
“What’s wrong with floral?”
“Nothing, just not sure how many bees you’re planning to pull tonight.”
“Geez, give it a rest Libby!” He looked up and stared at her. “Are you deliberately winding me up? ‘Cause for once it is working.”
“Score one!” She shouted and leapt jubilantly towards the bed. She stumbled as her feet hit the floor, then froze, her gaze transfixed on the window.
“Jason.” She said unsteadily, trying to reign in her growing feelings of unease. “Have you been messing around again?”
He looked up, unsure of her tone. “What’d you mean?”
She stared again at the window and shakily pointed to the glass. A patch of the glass had misted over as if someone had just breathed out hard onto it. In the centre of the mist patch was an unpleasant picture of a hangman swinging on the end of the rope. Underneath him an arrow pointed down to some blank spaces as if someone had failed to guess the letters of the chosen word in the game.
Jason stared blankly at the window, sensing her panic. “I never breathed out anywhere near the window. For goodness sake, I’ve been sat here since I came into your room and it wasn’t there then. You’re just playing with me right?”
Libby stared transfixed and slowly shook her head as another patch of glass misted over above the picture. A word began to form in large but shaky capital letters: RUN.