Meghan’s Haunting, Part 2

Meghan sipped her coffee. The chipped mug was decorated with cats in blue and pink. The watcher knew that she put three teaspoons of sugar and a lot of vanilla creamer in her coffee. He’d watched her for two months now. School had started and the number of guests had increased. The watcher loved sneaking up behind them, pulling their hair, tying their shoes together, hiding keys and purses, notes and books. He regularly hid Meghan’s favorite CD’s, flip-flops, tennis shoes, her books, backpack and sometimes her cell phone when he found it unattended. She would wander around getting more and more annoyed by the second. He smiled, Meghan’s reactions thrilled him. He still tripped her, though she now had an annoying habit of not leaving clutter around.

The watcher walked around the “living” room. In this case, the living room was only a rug, some couches, a coffee table, and a bookcase. The watcher stared at the bookcase. Three books lay on top of it. He glanced at Meghan who was still immersed in her coffee. He re-focused on the bookcase. Smiling slowly, he meandered over. Not bothering to read the covers, he picked them up. Dashing to the coffee table, he dropped the books in front of her. They tumbled to the table, thudding loudly. Meghan jumped. The coffee poured down her, cascaded down the couch and soaked into the rug.
“Stupid, Ugly….” Meghan grumbled, righting her cup. “I had just decided what to wear!” She ran into her bedroom, slamming the door.
The watcher gave a smug smile, women never changed. In three minutes she realized class had started five minutes ago. Rushing from the room, a back pack slung across her pink tank top and her purse thumping against the knees of her beige-ish khaki capris, she catapulted out the door. He skipped after her, brushing by when her back was turned. She shivered and the watcher took a perverse delight from that slight reaction. He lounged against the railing on the landing and she locked the door.
He followed her to class and then he went with her to work, though he always grew bored. Returning to her apartment to wreck the place, clean it up, wreck it again, clean up most of it, and hide something she was bound to miss. Tonight he hid her bath sponge under all the towels. He also hid her dressy shoes. If he recalled correctly, she had a date tonight. Last night she’d laid out her clothes, including shoes, bracelets, necklace, earrings, rings and handbag. Stowing one shoe on top of the fridge, he placed the other just far enough away from the door that it would not be knocked aside when the door opened — she would most probably step on it. Springing away he retired to the window. The pink and green curtains stirred, billowing slightly as he looked out. It was going to be a long wait.
Meghan was welcomed into the house with a THUD at twilight. She had, much to the watcher’s delight, gone skidding before plopping down on her butt. Emitting a growl, she kicked the shoe across the room. The watcher circled around her, breathing against her neck.
“Geez, did I leave the air on?” She went to turn up the air conditioner, glancing at the clock.
“Only forty-five minutes!” Squealing, she retired to the bathroom where she furiously looked for her bath sponge. The watcher stood outside the bathroom door. He paced restlessly. Then the door opened. Casually, he stepped out of her way, but she didn’t even notice him. Following her into her bedroom, he watched her put on her dress and a big T-Shirt over that. Dashing back to the bathroom, make-up in hand, Meghan began her delicate dance. The foundation drifted across her bright cheeks, hiding the healthy glow. The blush blossomed on her cheeks while the eyeshadow painted itself in purple and lilac hues across her lids. The black eyeliner lightly traced her eyes while the mascara curled her lashes. She had been pretty before, now she was stunning. Her shoulder length, mousy hair tumbled out of the towel. With a mild curse, she shook her head. Her hair was dry enough to let the ringlets bounce around. Brrrrriiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg. The door buzzer went off. Dashing in her X-Large T-Shirt, she ran to the panel by the door, it held a speaker and three buttons. She pressed one.
“Yes?” She said.
“Meghan? It’s Drake. Can I come up?” The voice from the speaker was annoyingly deep to the watcher’s ears.
“Sure!” Meghan almost squealed. She pressed another button. Running to take off the old T-Shirt, she hastily brushed her teeth. The watcher glared at the door where this “Drake” would soon arrive. Meghan finished brushing her teeth. Now, she was looking all over the apartment for her shoes. She muttered snatches of curses and “I know I left that over here” under her breath. Five minutes later a firm knock interrupted her frantic scrambling. She raced to the door, took a quick second to catch her breath, only realizing she had one shoe in her hand when she went to brush a stray lock out of her face. Opening the door with a bright smile, she ushered him in while hiding the shoe behind her back.
He was tall and athletic looking. Cleanly clipped hair with a smooth rounded face revealed warm brown eyes. He had probably broken several hearts. The watcher did not like him. At all. He stood beside him thinking of how to drive him away. She asked Drake to wait for her, assuring him she was almost ready. He sat on her couch, staring curiously at the books scattered across the floor before examining the coffee table and it’s glass top. He smiled at his reflection, then stuck his tongue out, and laughed. The watcher merged with the reflection. He turned Drake’s eyes to burning red coals, rotted his teeth, made his nose crumble, and bared fanged teeth when Drake looked back at himself.
He cussed, leaping to his feet and flipping the coffee table. It clattered over as Meghan emerged from her room. She frowned as Drake righted the table.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Thought I saw something,” he replied.
“But why did you try to break my coffee table?”
“I couldn’t have seen anything.” Drake mumbled.
“Anyway, let’s go. We’ll be late for the movie.”

They left, heading down the stairwell, hand in hand. The watcher wasn’t done yet. He floated to the coffee table and scratched,

I am here. J.T.

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