pica_pica

The cabin looked as though it had been quickly deserted. There were still many items of personal belongings strewn about, and the door was left open. This was her old place apparently, and I dont know what brought me there.

Inside, the breeze seemed to start in the dusty grey fireplace, breaking out in a specific direction, getting hotter and stronger and somehow evil, the furies, a witches wind.
I turned to look about inside the room and the only furniture in there was a new red chaise lounge that she had cherished so much. On top of it was a box full of computer parts the parts from the computer I had built for her, but the tower itself was nowhere to be seen. The wind from the fireplace grew stronger and fabric pieces curled in small twisters, then past me and out the door into the street.
Beside the box of computer parts was her tattered red backpack, the one she would always pack her stuff in back and forth from her place to mine, it was bulging with the zipper broken.

A long stream of red satin streamed across the room now, its root still anchored somewhere in the blackened depths of the mouth of the fireplace, and it rippled horizontal across the room towards the door, ripping and licking as the wind grew stronger.
I bent over and started to pull open the backpack as the light in the room began to wane and in a fast whirlwind a crumpled ball of black silk was torn out from inside, unraveling fast in mid-air and I recognized it as the nightie I had surprised her with so many years ago. It seemed to fill to a form of her suddenly, hovering for a second in a slow spin in front of me, a couple of feet off the chaise its breasts suddenly full, hips cocked but in a hot blast it was torn by a gust from my sight and out the door with some of the other fragments.
The red satin was still behind me, rippling faster and making tearing noises in the hot wind. It was becoming extremely humid, an unbearable sauna, the room starting to fill with steam.

I quickly grabbed both edges of the zipper of the backpack and pulled to spread it open. The door then slammed shut.

I quickly tried to see more of what was in the backpack it was full of absolutely everything I had ever given her; Christmas cards, valentines, birthday cards, those earrings, I was quickly trying to rifle through it, in shock at what I was finding and then I noticed the smoke.
The wind was still howling through the room. Deafening now, constantly increasing in strength, but now it was also birthing thick black smoke, quickly blotting out the last of the light and it was so moist. The room heating up so fast, so dark, I knew I had to get this stuff outside, I had to save it somehow.

I felt my way to the door, found the handle and it was solidly stuck. I started to panic suddenly aware that flames were obviously next. I could see the shards of daylight between the old wooden slats of the door, and I began to punch at it. Impotent and slow while the tip of that red satin whipped at my bare back like the flick of a wet towel.
oh my god, its like punching in a dream I thought to myself, trying to remember how in a dream I would be able to burst past that weakness and follow through.
I kept punching slow and soft against the rough wood, slightly ripping the skin of my knuckles and under the roar of the wind I heard something higher pitched, like a shriek.
I turned around to face the room and following the line of the red satin back into the black where the fireplace would be, I suddenly made out the outlines of a head. At least, it had the proportions of a head but it was at least 4 feet high, made of grey smoke, and that of a very old woman, Alecto perhaps. Its mouth was open wide, centered around the satin, slowly forming more details as it made its way closer to me, riding that satin tongue like a monorail. As it got closer, I could see behind it a neck of sorts, stretching far back into the darkness and twisting and reeling like the first stretching tip of the funnel cloud of a tornado.
I spun and punched hard through the first slat of the door, splintering it in half I could see the traffic of commercial drive. I kept punching at the slats, feeling the encroachment of that head and my heart was pounding loud in my ears. Shrieking getting louder, angry, and finally I broke through the door.
I was nude then, standing in front of this innocuous looking cabin, pedestrians walking by and perhaps making a quick disinterested glance my way, and then I woke up.