Ofelia Doncella: Stranger Danger

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Ofelia Doncella: Stranger Danger

Post  Ofelia Doncella on Fri Mar 26, 2010 6:40 pm

“Are you done for the day Ofie?” The redhead glanced up from the paperwork in her hands. Her lips curved into a friendly smile. She nodded and went back to filling out her time-sheet. It was three o’clock; time to go home and get ready for her night lessons. This was her day job. It was like a rule, they were supposed to be uninteresting. The library in Burbank was less than thrilling. The history was boring (even she would admit). It was, however, where she worked as a page. Her day generally consisted of shelving and cataloging. She found it to be steady. The job didn’t change. There were no sudden changes to confuse or strange things to baffle. The people she worked with were pleasant. There was little interaction or bother.

She glided out of the library after saying her brief goodbyes. A figure stood in the parking lot near her car. This would have been creepy under different circumstances. Somehow the stranger seemed less intimidating in the well lit, crowded parking lot. Ofelia slowed as she got closer to the car. Something just didn’t seem right. She paused a few feet from the car and cleared her throat, “Excuse me, are you alright?” The stranger whirled around and reveled himself to be male. “Are you the dance instructor?” He held up a paper advertising her services. Sure enough, there was her name and phone number. That was unusual. She had never made a poster. Dad must have been trying to help. He did things like that every once in a while. He meant well, but sometimes all he did was get her attention she didn’t want. “I am. Can I help you?” His lips curved into a grin. “I’m looking for lessons; private lessons. I want the first one to be tonight at six. I won’t take no for an answer.” She smiles, “I’m sorry, but I’m not offering any private lessons at the moment.” All she needed to do was get in the driver’s seat. Then she could speed away and not have to think about him. She took a step to the side and tried to slip past him. Not even two steps and he had her by the arm. “Ofelia, I told you I won’t take no.” Her body went ridged. Was he threatening her? Her face had lost all color. The stranger tucked her hair behind her ears, “I was just letting you know when I’d be coming.” He released her and left without another word.
When he was out of sight, she scrambled into her car. Her body slumped forward onto the steering wheel. Breath. Just breath. That was a feat. He had grabbed her. Touched her. Violated her. After a moment of violent shaking and deep breathing, she turned the car on and sped out of the parking lot. Driving now probably wasn’t a great idea, but she needed to get home. She had a private lesson at four, and apparently that man was coming over at six.

When she got home she took a quick shower and changed into a her dance uniform. It was nothing fancy, just a plain black leotard with white tights. Her first client was a seven-year-old girl. Her dance of choice was ballet. They had gone over the basics and were working on more advanced techniques. The girl had been taking lessons with Ofelia for three years. She was almost ready for pointe. At five thirty she brought the lesson to a close. The girl and her mother left. After twenty or so minutes in her apartment alone, and panic set in. That man said he’d be here at six. Would he really? No. He was just some nut. There was no way he was actually going to show up. As soon as the clock stuck six, there was knock on her door. Wrong again. She walked ever so tentatively towards the door. Her fingers fumbled with the knob. There was another knock while she was fumbling, which caused her to jump back and let out a high pitched squeak. The person on the other side of the door let out a laugh that was loud enough for her to hear. The door swung open without her assistance. Sure enough, there was the man from before. He had a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder and that same smile on his face. "You look nervous." She took a step back. His attire wasn't appropriate for dancing. Jeans and a loose T-shirt. Ofelia pointed at him absently, "You can't wear th-" Her sentence was cut off by the stranger dropping his pants and removing his shirt. Underneath his clothes was a full body leotard. His warm smile had turned into a smirk; most likely due to the look of shock from her. He wasn't even in her apartment and he already taking clothes off.

He stepped over the threshold and closed the door. "I'm Franklin, you can call me Frank. I'm looking to do some Jazz. I haven't practiced in years, so forgive me if I'm rusty." All she could do was nod. He led them to the terrace, much to her confusion. The lesson itself was nothing. He did as she instructed, mimicked her movements and took everything she told him in stride. Her panic and anxiety slowly melted away. He wasn't a threat. He was just pushy.

When the lesson was done, he grabbed his duffel bag, "This might surprise you, and you're more than welcome to kick me out." There was the panic again. The heart pounding, adrenaline thumping terror that came from being alone with men. Much to her surprise, what he pulled from the bag was a bottle of wine. "I met you a year ago at a yoga class. The introduction was brief, but I couldn't get over the idea of you. I was hoping we could have a drink and talk. It's, of course, all your decision." Ofelia's jaw dropped. He had met her at a yoga class? Why didn't she remember him? He set the bottle on the terrace floor and waited for her response. At the moment, she was to busy processing to form any words. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I suppose a drink couldn't hurt." She could hear him release the breath he had been holding. She opened her eyes. The scene had changed. It wasn't just him and her anymore. A figure in a hooded sweatshirt was standing behind Franklin. "Move!" He didn't. Not in time at least.

The figure was holding a large hunting knife; the kind that was used for gutting dear. He raised the knife and brought it down on Frank. The blow landed on the shoulder, in the soft spot where the bones met. Ofelia let out a shriek and stumbled back. The figure glanced at her, then lunged. She took a quick leap to the side, trying to dodge. He was quicker than she was. The knife hit just above her hip, and her movement dragged it. Now she had a long gash in her side. It resulted in instant throbbing. It was more pain than she had ever felt. Now that she was wounded, the stranger was moving a bit slower. He new he had the upper hand and was conserving energy. Ofelia shoved open one of the sliding doors to her apartment and stumbled inside. There was a trail of blood from her wound. It certainly made her easier to find. Her eyes locked on the phone. That was what she needed to get to. As soon as the thought registered, there was a sharp pain in the back of her neck. Everything went limp. She fell to the floor in a heap. The hooded figure stepped over her. He slipped the hood back and grinned down at her. That wasn't a man. It wasn't anything she had ever seen. Instead of a normal color, his skin was orange and scaled. He looked like a deranged lizard. "Who are you? Why are you being so mean?!" He let out a deep noise that she interpreted as a chuckle. She was going to die. This thing was going to gut her.

She closed her eyes again. There was no need to watch him. There was a thud and gunfire. Her eyes shot open. There was a police officer standing in the doorway. A tall blond woman with a look of absolute disgust. The strange creature turned to face the new threat. More gunshots. A head shot. Instead of falling, like most living creatures would have, this thing turned to went rigid and crumbled. The police officer called down the hall, and before she knew it, there were at least ten people in her apartment. "There's a man on the balcony, he's already dead. How's the girl?" "Fading fast. We need to get her stabilized." Frank was dead. She closed her eyes, only to have a strange voice yell at her, commanding her to stay away. She ignored it and let sleep take her.

Sleep wasn't as soothing as she had hoped. Her eyes reopened and she found herself back in the apartment. Frank was standing on the balcony, holding the bottle of wine. Then the figure appeared. Instead of taking the blow, her now dead student turned and swung, hitting the figure with the wine. He turned to her and smiled, "It is done." "What? What's done?" He smiled and waved his hand. The dream world faded into nothing.

Ofelia woke up with a start. This wasn't her apartment. There was an IV in her arm and a breathing mask covering her mouth. Everything surrounding her was white. "She's awake!" She turned to the source of the voice. "Daddy?" She barely recognized her voice. It was thick and raspy. Her mouth and throat were drier than they'd ever been. Nurses rushed in and began fussing about her. "Her vitals are back to normal." Someone tugged up the nightgown she was wearing and peeled a bloody bandage off her side. There was nothing beneath it. "Her wounds are gone. No scars. No trace that they were there." Her father threw his arms around her, "It's a miracle!" He stroked her hair and squeezed her, "You've been out for a week. They couldn't make the bleeding stop. Everyone was sure you were a goner. This is proof that God is with you." She had been out for a week? Her father released his grip on her, "You're moving. All of your things have been removed from your apartment. You'll be coming back home until you find somewhere suitable to live."

Moving back home was strange. Her father happily bragged to all his friends about the miracle that saved his child. In under a week she had found herself a new apartment. Her father objected at first, but soon caved.


She grabbed the last of her belongings from her room at her father's house. Just one last bag that would come with her to her "new life". She turned to leave, but found Frank blocking her path. He stood in the doorway, a content smile on his face, "It has begun." "What? I thought it was done? A-and you're dead. Why are you being so cryptic? Can't you just tell me what's happening like a normal person?" She blinked, and he was gone. The voice echoed through the room one last time,

"It has begun."

Ofelia Doncella
Deceased
Deceased

Domain : Illusion

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