Calliope: The Thread (Short One) By Imani Wagner

This is the first workings of my short story series, Calliope. It may not be perfect, but what is? Enjoy reading the first publishing of this paranormal tale, as I enjoyed writing it. - IW.

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I rolled over in bed to see the sun seeping through the blinds. The lighting had drawn golden stripes across Henrietta’s black fur. Henrietta was my cat. She stretched her slender body along the edge of the bed as she waited for morning scratches and cuddles. My bed took up half of the space in the room. At its foot is a silver dresser and mirror. The dresser had glass pieces scattered perfectly across its surface. On either side of my velvet pantone headboard were matching glass nightstands. I reached for my phone to check the time. It’s six am and I had three text messages from Gina, my boss.

Good Morning Calliope,

Would you mind picking up my dress for the gala tonight?

Also, can you book my flight and hotel for that work trip next month, check email for the details!

Thank you!

“Looks like I have to get some stuff done for Gina before the cafe this afternoon, Henri.” Henrietta meowed in response and hopped down from the bed. Her little paws met the wooden floors with a dull thud. She didn’t care what Gina needed. Henri became very serious when it was time for breakfast , and nothing mattered, especially Gina.

I got up and made the bed before walking out of the black walled room. The smell of vanilla and lavender from lit candles the night before still lingered in every room of my little space. After fixing Henri’s meal I roamed through my darkly chic apartment to get ready for the day. My mind refused to focus on anything I was currently doing, and instead wandered through a vast timeline of past memories and the irrefutable possibilities of what could be. Nevertheless, I continued to prepare for what already felt like a long day.

As I was brushing my teeth I noticed a thin white strand of hair dangling from my face. My mind convinced me I was prematurely going gray. I went to tuck the strand into my ponytail, only to discover that it was actually coming out of my ear. I tugged at the little string and watched as it grew in length. It wasn’t long at all and after just a few inches it had completely escaped my ear canal. I looked down and rolled it between my fingertips. The texture was like thin fleshy skin. I felt that if I had pressed the strand between my fingers it would split like an overcooked spaghetti noodle. Before I could understand what the strange thing was I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror falling to the floor.

I woke up to Henrietta and her obnoxiously rough tongue across my entire forehead, one prickly lick after another. My whole being was terribly confused and misplaced. It was clear that I had passed out, hence waking up on the floor, but I wasn’t sure why it happened. I made a mental note to schedule an appointment with my doctor before the end of the week.

Eventually gathering myself, I quickly read through my emails and booked Gina’s trip. When I was finally done waiting for Gina’s dress it was time for my shift at the cafe. I had picked up the last end of Shandra’s shift so I would only be working a few hours. Apparently she hadn’t been feeling well and left early.

As I walked into the brightly lit coffee shop the two guests in the far right corner churned their necks to look at me. The man wore a simple sky blue button up tucked into his black trousers. His eyes seemed dark and his mind thoughtless as he fixed his focus back to his blueberry scone. The woman was wearing a short black dress. Her arms were bare, but not entirely. She wore sleeves of green and yellow half-healed bruises. Her neck appeared to be just as discolored. I wondered if any of my coworkers noticed, but they were all working tirelessly to get people in and out with their orders. The woman assessed me with a mask of despair and curiosity clinging to her face. I was entranced. After, pulling my eyes away I made my way to the break room.

I stuffed my purse and denim jacket into the small cubby of a locker and clocked in before heading onto the floor. When I got to the coffee bar, the woman in the black dress was gone. The man was still sitting there.

“Hey Calliope,” Mya walked over to me and squeezed my arm, “Thanks for filling in for Shandra, girl!” Mya was short and slim. Her deep brown eyes were big and made her look like one of those adorable cartoon babies. She was always so sweet to me, but she and I had never established a bond outside of work.

“Of course. Hey, did you see that woman who was sitting over there with Blue Button Up Guy?” I nodded my head towards the mysterious man. It was like a dark cloud smothered the entire space around him.

“Nope. He’s been over there alone eating that same scone for the past couple hours.” Before I could press her anymore about the man’s counterpart, Phil walked in. Phil is the neighborhood bootleg man. He always has the latest movies, but he knows he’s not allowed to sell inside the coffee shop. “Hey Phil,” Maya said to him as she looked over her shoulder to me. We both laughed into our chests as we prepared for the ‘beautiful black queen’ tangent Phil always delivered when he tried to sell you one of his dvds.

“How ya’ll doin’, my beautiful black sistas? Ya’ll look so lovely today, you know that?”

“That ain’t gone work this time, Phil. You know you’re not supposed to be in here with those dvds.” I tried hard to hold my composure. I could feel Mya breaking character as she avoided eye contact with Phil. She made wide eyes and blown up cheeks full of Mya-like guffaws.

“Nawl, I didn’t come in here for that, I just wanted to say my hellos and goodbyes before I headed home for the evenin’. So, hello and goodbye.” Phil stuck his head back into the shop before letting the door close behind him, “But just in case, I do got that new Wakanda if ya’ll want it.”

Mya and I exploded with laughter after the door slammed shut behind Phil and his dvds. A couple hours before closing Mya left. No one was in the coffee shop so I spent the last moments shining the dark wood of the tables and placing the chairs on top of them. A strong lemon-like fragrance swam through the warm coffee saturated air. It was raining outside, and I could hear the pitter patter of the raindrops over the low cafe music. The temperature in the cafe shifted for just a short moment. I couldn’t tell if it had gotten warmer or more cold.

“That man killed me.” Startled, I turned around to the bruised woman in the black dress. Her red hair fell wavy toward her shoulders. I hadn’t noticed before, but she was barefoot and her legs wore colored fingerprints too.

“Ma’am, we are closed,” I said. I still had thirty minutes before I was allowed to lock up, but I was there in that coffee shop alone and petrified. A strange woman had just popped up out of nowhere, and she was clearly out of her mind.

“Please, help me get to my body. He killed me,” the woman seemed to speak softly, before I realized her lips weren’t actually moving. A fast image of the man who had been sitting across from her appeared in my head, and then the bruised woman was gone. The image played in my mind like a movie. The scene was the moment the disappearing woman and the doomed seeming man turned to look at me.

I stood staring at the now empty space where the woman once was. My brain was stagnant in processing what had just happened. The cream colored coffee shop seemed more dull. There was no scent to ground me in the place where my feet held me up. There was no sound to steady me. Even though I felt like I was spinning, the room was too still. Still, like death.