Step by Lore Andreassen

meager existence on their farms, the atmosphere feebly crackles, responding to elastic energy within the rift as it struggles to spit out another encroachment. It is impotent. The damage is long done. In its wake, only the banal time of human stubbornness remain.

At 5:14, pre-dawn, the man rises from the bed, the yellowed long-underwear protects him from the draft that moves through the room.

At 6:12, the man goes to the shed.

At 7:46, the woman stands outside the chicken coop waiting for something

At 12:04, the woman takes a bite.

At 6:18, dusk, the man smashes the bottle.

At 7:59, the woman pulls the wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer.

At 8:45, the man and woman go to bed.

At 11:47, the man gets the glass.

And so on.

BREAK 7:44 : Ernest sits quietly by the glass sliding door that opened from the kitchen. His sullen amber eyes sweep across the red oak porch that he and Henry installed when their mother had fallen through the old one. She had been bedridden for three weeks following the accident; he and Henry took care of every chore that had been her responsibility around the home. He remembers her fondly, a bitter old hag, but a mother nonetheless. He sips the coffee. His coffee? It is not black today. Milk. Sugar. The woman wouldn’t approve. Ernest stares through his reflection into the yard. The grass is dead. He contemplates going into town: getting fertilizer. But ultimately decides that today is not the day for travel. The woman enters his periphery but his dulled perceptions mean that it is a few moments before he realizes her visage fully. She holds three, no four, aluminum buckets in her right hand. They are stacked together. He thinks of the Russian dolls that his mother collected. In her right hand she is dragging a bloodied burlap sack. It leaves the ground behind her crushed, any vegetation too dry to recover from this final attack. When she reaches the little chicken coop that houses their six hens, she drops the bag and rubs her calloused hand against her fore- head. She stands outside the coop and cranes her head toward the violet southern sky. Ernest takes a sip of coffee. He could use something stronger. He watches the willow stretch its arms westward, and then sees the woman quake in the culprit breeze. Her voice indicates no frailness and barrages the landscape with a single word. “DUKE.” Ernest frowns. He treats the coop to an intense gaze and scours the surface for imperfections. Nothing. He shakes his head, his voice scratchy from disuse. “You don’t need Duke, woman.” As expected, the quiet words from deep inside the house do not reach the woman. She shouts once more. “DUKE.” Ernest rolls his eyes and turns to the sink. He swigs the final gasp of coffee and throws the cup into the sink. As the cup glances off the porcelain, a long present crack gives forth and the pieces fall to either side. Ernest closes his eyes and chews on his lip.

At 6:14, the man pulls the packet of seeds from their hiding place.

At 7:52, the woman gives up.

At 9:17, the man pries the hood of the rusted green pickup and inspects the engine.

At 9:59, the woman waters the garden, paying special attention to the tomatoes.

At 12:35, the man and woman break for lunch.

Afterward, the woman comments “You are a filthy slob.”

At 1:37, the man gets into the shower.

At 3:12, the woman lets her guard down.

At 4:11, the man jumps.

At 4:12, the man jumps.

At 5:18, the woman says the prayer.

At 8:45, the man and woman go to sleep.

At 10:42, the woman rolls out of bed.

And so on.

BREAK 1:30 : Eleanor opens the ice chest and scans through the frozen goods that remain.

There really is only one option, and she immediately pushes the frozen milk containers to the side and retrieves the frozen ham hock. Moving it to the counter, she laments how many hours she will need to waste waiting for it to boil thaw. She knows cooking the beast by dusk is no small feat, and she struggles against the urge to forget it. She wheels around as the sliding door slams open again, and the man steps into the kitchen. His hair, what’s left of it anyway, stands on end in the back, and is matted down in the front. His entire outfit is soaked and she wonders: “Is it raining? It shouldn’t be raining. It can’t be raining.” But she says aloud, in her gruffness: “Don’t you bring that flood into this kitchen. It doesn’t belong here.” She throws a small bowl at him, striking him in the side. For a moment she thinks there is a chance he will retaliate, but before she can focus too hard on the prospect, the man is gone. He has stormed down the hallway toward the bathroom. Eleanor finds herself hoping that the pipes are frozen, but they run from south of town. They always work. She storms down the few stairs into the main living room, and grumbles to herself at she approaches the hall closet. She prepares before opening it. She opens it. She has forgotten that she came for a mop to clean up the water in the kitchen. Eleanor doesn’t wish to appear foolish, so she grabs a coat so as to have done something during the trip. She determines that she wanted to check the weather. The thought that it was raining was a very strange one. As she moves back into the kitchen, Eleanor hears the shower kick on, and hears what she thinks is singing. She wants to yell at the man, but she resists temptation and moves toward the sliding door. Her feet hit the mat and she looks down. She exclaims: “Where are my shoes?” Her eyes follow around the floor, and she drops to her knees to look below the table. She smiles as she has found her boot. As she exits onto the porch, she remains blissfully ignorant that the floor she was just crawling on wasn’t wet at all.

Timing

At 5:14, pre-dawn, the man rises from the bed, the yellowed long-underwear protects him from the draft that moves through the room.

At 5:15, the man pauses at the bedroom door.

At 5:28, the man enters the kitchen.

At 5:36, the man pushes down.

At 6:27, the woman rises from the bed, a strange energy overtakes her.

At 6:32, dressed and ready to face the day, the woman exits the house.

At 9:15, the man enters the garage to investigate the strange noise.

At 10:02, the man hums along.

At 11:55, the man and the woman turn southward and shield their eyes.

At 12:00, the woman finds a strange looking tomato.

At 2:16, the woman unloads the shotgun for a second time.

At 4:42, the man finds what he is looking for.

At 5:18, the woman says the prayer.

At 7:59, the woman pulls the wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer. And so on.

BREAK 5:14 : Eleanor lay awake in the bed. Her bed. She could almost see what he was up to, the strange man. He rises from the bed, the yellowed long-underwear protecting him from the draft that moves through the room. He immediately checks the seal around the west window. There is a bit of air leaking in. He decides to head out to the garage. She knows he is moving to the door. He twists the copper handle and opens it. There is a flash of violet light that fills his room. Her room. She sees it, she knows what it means. He stands there, eyes wide. In the hallways before him is a package. He has seen it before. The packages were all left. Once. They maintain themselves now. They feel more at home than her. He reaches toward the package. He hesitates. Something stops him. She is screaming in her head, “Get Away. GET. AWAY.” but she will not say it aloud. There is too much at stake. She works to go back to sleep. The man is not her problem, and he is not her choice to make. But when his hand reaches once more for the red and green striped package, the words echo in her room: “Don’t touch it!” Was that her? Minutes drag on, the man is frozen in place. Eleanor’s eyes feel heavy. She feels as though danger is averted. She watches him, behind her eyelids, as she begins to drift away. He meticulously inspects his hand. Concern wrinkles through his face, and he opens his mouth to match his eyes. For a moment he understands. The moment passes, and he exits into the empty hallway. She can no longer see him, they are alone. She hears him from inside the room. He shuffles into the kitchen. He clatters around among her pots. She considers rising from the bed and telling him what she realized. The package is dangerous. If he sees it in the kitchen he should run. But sleep is easier for Eleanor. She rolls to the side, forgetting the omen she felt she saw. She smells the earthy coffee that the man has begun brewing and wonders where he got it from. The Reynolds were not in the town anymore, so the store was no longer open. No Where to get coffee. They’d followed the small girl into the rift. Eleanor thinks: “Why didn’t we go along?”

At 5:38, the woman dreams of a blue sky.

At 5:55, the man pauses at the bedroom door.

At 6:00, the woman opens one eye, then the other.

At 6:27, the woman rises from the bed, a strange energy overtakes her.

At 6:31, the man and woman meet in the hallway.

At 6:32, dressed and ready to face the day, the woman exits the house.

At 9:00, the woman enters the garage.

At 9:12, the woman screams, grabbing the shotgun.

At 10:02, the man hums along.

At 11:55, the man and the woman turn southward and shield their eyes.

At 12:05, the woman freezes her eyes upon the girl in the distance.

At 2:16, the woman unloads the shotgun for a second time.

At 4:52, the man uses it.

At 5:18, the woman says the prayer.

At 7:59, the woman pulls the wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer.

At 11:47, the man gets the glass. And so on.

BREAK 7:57 :

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ellie.”

“I thought I saw something outside the kitchen window.”

“Can we just forget about it? They’re long gone. They’re all long gone.”

“Okay.” ***

“I just saw it, there, again.”

“What?”

“I said: ‘I saw it again.’”

“What are you doing with that spoon? What if there were something out there? Are you going to whip it with a cooking utensil?”

“Are you just going to sit there and be rude? I’m scared, Ernie.”

“Just calm down. Come over here and –“ ***

“Are you going to answer that?”

“Who would be knocking at this hour?”

“I’ll go. Stay there.”

“Be careful.”

“Hello Miss. Can I come in?”

“Who are you?”

“We’re just cold and hungry, Miss. Can I please come in?”

Timing

At 5:14, pre-dawn, the man rises from the bed, the yellowed longunderwear protects him from the draft that moves through the room.

At 5:15, the man pauses at the bedroom door.

At 5:28, the man enters the kitchen.

At 5:36, the man pushes down. At 5:38, the woman dreams of a blue sky.

At 6:00, the woman opens one eye, then the other.

At 6:12, the man goes to the shed.

At 6:27, the woman rises from the bed, a strange energy overtakes her.

At 6:31, the man and woman meet in the hallway.

At 6:32, dressed and ready to face the day, the woman exits the house.

At 7:46, the woman stands outside the chicken coop waiting for something

At 9:09, the man and woman stare at the violet sky.

At 12:00, the woman finds a strange looking tomato.

At 12:04, the woman takes a bite.

At 12:05, the woman freezes her eyes upon the girl in the distance.

And so on.

BREAK 9:00 : Eleanor enters the garage and sets down her last aluminum pail. Her heart is racing. She’s been running, but she’s not sure from what. She feels around for the pull-cord and clicks the light on. Once it is on, she closes the door she entered. She thinks: “Why is it so dark?” Turning, she sees the half-empty bag. It is labelled: Dog Food. She doesn’t check to see if it actually contains Dog Food. Her thoughts instead turn to Duke, and her blood runs cold. Where is Duke? When was the last time she saw him? She advances on the bag, her eyes meticulously dance across the image of the smiling woman hugging the dog. There is a blue sky behind them, and she almost remembers. The bag falls forward and off of the bench. It lands with a heavy thud, and Eleanor jumps. The bag gives a few secondary twitches, and Eleanor questions the possibility of there being something inside. She slides her feet toward it, and kicks it once with her left boot. An angry hiss greets her foot and she takes a step back. She turns to the wall, spotting the shotgun. Her smile remembers what to do. She winds back. She kicks the bag across the floor waiting for the noise again. But the bag falls limp against the wall, and no noise emits. Eleanor shrugs, smile gone. She thinks: “What manner of person kicks a dog food bag? And where was Duke?” She peers through the window into the back yard. The violet sky greets her, and her eyes are treated to a bit of green lightning that spiders into the back yard. She cocks her head to the side. That had happened before, but she could not remember when. Eleanor turns back to the aluminum pail that she’d come here for. She would need it to water the garden later. She scoops it up and turned to the door. The knowing smile returns: Eleanor’s reflexes kick in. The outer doorway stands open, and a small, black-haired girl stands staring at her from across the threshold. Her face is thin and her skin pulls against the bone. Her stuffed rabbit is missing both of its eyes. From the moment Eleanor drops the pail and grabs the shotgun -- to the moment she pulls the trigger against the small intruder, she is certain that it needs to die.

Timing

At 12:35, the man and woman break for lunch.

Afterward, the woman comments “You are a filthy slob.”

At 1:37, the man gets into the shower.

At 1:45, the man exits the shower.

At 1:49, the man sits in the bed.

At 2:10, the man sees the girl.

At 2:16, the woman unloads the shotgun for a second time.

At 3:12, the woman lets her guard down.

At 4:11, the man jumps.

At 4:12, the man jumps.

At 4:52, the man uses it.

At 5:18, the woman says the prayer.

At 5:18, the woman says the prayer.

At 7:59, the woman pulls the wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer.

At 8:45, the man and woman go to sleep.

At 10:42, the woman rolls out of bed.

At 11:47, the man gets the glass. And so on.

BREAK 7:44 :

Ernest sits quietly by the glass sliding door that opened from the kitchen. His sullen amber eyes sweep across the red oak porch. He sips the coffee. His coffee? It is not black today. Milk. Sugar. The woman wouldn’t approve. Ernest stares through his reflection into the yard. The grass is dead. He contemplates going into town: getting fertilizer. But ultimately decides that today is not the day for travel. The woman enters his periphery but his dulled perceptions mean that it is a few moments before he realizes her visage fully. She holds three, no four, aluminum buckets in her right hand. They are stacked together. He thinks of the Russian dolls that his mother collected. In her right hand she is dragging a bloodied burlap sack. It leaves the ground behind her crushed, any vegetation too dry to recover from this final attack. When she reaches the little chicken coop that houses their six hens, she drops the bag and rubs her calloused hand against her fore- head. She stands outside the coop and cranes her head toward the violet southern sky. Ernest takes a sip of coffee. He could use something stronger. He watches the willow stretch its arms westward, and then sees the woman quake in the culprit breeze. Her voice indicates no frailness and barrages the landscape with a single word. “DUKE.” Ernest frowns. He treats the coop to an intense gaze and scours the surface for imperfections. Nothing. He shakes his head, his voice scratchy from disuse. “You don’t need Duke, woman.” As expected, the quiet words from deep inside the house do not reach the woman. She shouts once more. “DUKE.” Ernest begins to roll his eyes, but stops, seeing something strange on the coop. He squints to make it out. Is it blood? He moves his hand to the door, but he misses the handle. He tries a second, then a third time. Ernest pulls the hand to his face in order to inspect it. He rubs his eyes and looks back out of the window. The woman is gone, or maybe he was mistaken about seeing her. Instead, it’s just the girl. She is standing there with Duke. He misses his dog. He blinks, and the thought and vision vanishes. He turns to the sink. He swigs the final gasp of coffee and throws the cup into the sink. As the cup glances off the porcelain, a long present crack gives forth and the pieces fall to either side. Ernest closes his eyes and chews on his lip.

Every morning, the veil sparks to life like a generator. The sound precedes the color by only a few moments, it emits a harsh grind as it tries in vain to live up to legend. The village that once prospered on the New England coastline sits desolate as at the end of the war. Only one cottage, red clay, continues the practice of inhabitance in the face of the breach between the worlds. When the magenta light crawls across the border of the little town, a foul stench begins to permeate the air. By the time the light reaches the northside of town, where the Mr. and Ms. Wrights continue to eke out a meager existence on their farm, the air crackles with energy as the rift struggles to spit out another invasion. But it is impotent, the damage long done. The girl went door to door, and took everyone who would let her. Everyone except the Wrights. And before she could be bothered to get them, the war was over. And in its wake, only the banal days of human stubbornness remain.

#4 Write something based on the phrase “We Came,We Saw, We Curevo’d.”