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Writer's picturePolly Prose

Homebody

Something was wrong. Something was seriously off.


Kyra Chapman felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, but she wasn’t exactly sure what it was that had prompted the reaction. She quietly closed the front door and turned on the lights. The house was eerily quiet, which wasn’t unusual for this time of night. What bothered her was what echoed in the silence. The faint voice she couldn’t identify. And each time she tried to listen closer it evaporated.


She slowly walked down the hallway of her humble house, turning on the lights in each room. The lights eased her mind, and she needed the comfort after the day she had just had.

All day, she’d had this gnawing feeling that something had happened or was about to happen. But what? And was it good or bad? The day had been ordinary and uneventful, and it was already 9 p.m. Why was she still feeling this way? Could it be that she had forgotten something?


From the time she had woken up that morning uneasiness had settled and taken camp in her stomach. And now that she was in the comfort of her own home it only seemed to grow stronger, which made absolutely no sense to her. Yet, it was a familiar sensation. One she’d experienced on several occasions. She didn’t exactly want to call it déjà vu, but the concept described it close enough.


Kyra tiredly slumped down in the sofa and sighed deeply, looking around her cozy living room. She was happy to feel the soft pillows surround her, supporting her tired body. She’d spent many a night right there in the same spot, alone, and with friends. But it had been a while since she’d had people over for dinner, or game night.


Why was that?


A new thought emerged amongst all the others that were buzzing like bees in a beehive inside her mind. And…it was exhausting. But they kept popping up like weeds at the most unfortunate time. Unwanted thoughts. Invasive wonderings.


Was someone upset with her? Had she ticked someone off? Was that the reason for the assumed silence?

Well, no one had said anything or indicated they were mad at her. And no one had approached her to tell her she had crossed a line? At least not recently.


Or had they?


She had been a little off the grid lately, keeping her distance, replying late to messages. Declining invitations. She had finally got to the point that she was making decision based on her own needs, instead of always wanting to please others. And that was a big step for her. So, declining an invitation wasn’t personal. It was the new Kyra, the updated version.


The exhausted version.


She opened her phone and looked at the message she’d received the day before.


Rhett: My place tomorrow 8 p.m. Everyone is expected to be there. It’ll be EPIC!


It had taken Kyra a few hours to find the right words because simply saying Thanks but no thanks, was out of the question. Unacceptable.


Some friends understood that after working the whole day and finishing at 7 p.m., on a school night, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to meet up for an impromptu party. Besides Rhett’s events were generally never a simple get-together. His parties were always themed and flashy, and turning up in regular clothing wasn’t optional. It was mandatory. A necessary component to make his parties epic.


Epic? What did that even mean?


If all his parties were epic, didn't that imply that none of them were? Didn't epic suggest something exceptional and rare? Unique? Or maybe Gen-Z had adopted a new meaning to the word? Or was it Generation Alpha now?


Why did life have to be so complicated?


Kyra desperately needed a breather. And she felt glad she'd not caved, that she'd stood her ground and listened to her own body.

In the past she had felt compelled to attend all of the parties. Spent money on new outfits, used energy she didn’t have to spare, just to follow the crowd. Because making others happy made her happy. Right?

It worked...until it stopped working.


Kyra: Thanks for thinking of me. I wish I could make it. Can’t wait to hear how epic it was. Enjoy. Gonna miss you all.


She had felt good about that message. She had tried to be kind in her rejection while staying true to herself.


But...the silence was torturous.


"He could have sent me the thumbs up," she thought to herself. "Just something."


And now, Kyra felt as if her whole character was being put on trial. She was being judged as antisocial. A lone wolf. A loner. Never willing to conform. Or was it all her imagination? Those feelings were most likely traces from her People Pleasing Times.

Yes, she was being silly. No one cared whether she was there or not.


Besides, she already had plans. She had plans with herself. She had planned to relax and do nothing. That's what her life had boiled down to. Plan to do nothing. Still, she couldn't shake that gnawing sense she had forgotten something...


What was it?


Why couldn't she remember? Why did it feel as if there was a shadow hanging around in the corner trying to tell her what she'd missed? Like there was something sinister in the air haunting her safe space, eagerly trying to reveal itself to her?

The voice in the back of her mind continued to reach out and tell her something specific. But the more Kyra listened in, the fainter the voice became, or until she managed to completely drown it out by turning on the TV and watch the latest episode of Desperate Housewives.


It worked wonders. The bees stopped buzzing. The thoughts flew away. And there was silence...


...Hours later Kyra was ready for bed. She'd mindlessly jumped from one show to the other, dozing in and out of sleep, doing exactly what she wanted, which was nothing, while crashing on her sofa. Waking up, more exhausted than she'd been that morning, Kyra dragged her body up the stairs to bed. And like a zombie she half-heartedly finished her get-ready-for-bed routine.


Maybe she should've gone to that party after all? Well, how about that.


As her head hit the pillow she sighed tiredly and yawned, happy to finally be under the covers. But the silence covered by the dark was short-lived. The haunting whispers of the day returned with added force. Impatiently and frustrated she sat up and noticed the time on her phone. Five minutes past midnight.


That was it!


Her memory got jolted out of its slumber. She knew what she'd forgotten. It had nothing to do with Rhett or other people. It had everything to do with her greatest passion. And now it was too late.


The deadline had past!





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