Didn't See That Coming

Didn't See That Coming

Don't wait for inspiration, just write and inspiration will come, she told herself.

‘Will it?’ She typed.

She’d set aside a week to complete her entry for the short story competition and was determined to finish it.

The story was about a stalker. She’d started it some weeks ago but reading it back it didn't excite her as much as it did before. It was only an idea anyway and she was confused about how to tell the story. Should it be through the eyes of the victim? (Too hysterical surely?) Or through the eyes of a friend after the victim was killed? She had several paragraphs from each point of view.

Maybe start a new story? Start afresh? She typed ‘A New Start’ at the top of the blank screen and waited for the words to come.

Fax the Cat, so called because he was an exact facsimile of his recently deceased mother, came into the room.

'Not now,' she said, not knowing if he wanted food or attention.

You have to treat writing as you would any another job. Just turn up at the keyboard and start work, even if you don't feel like it, she reminded herself. With other writing work she was given a brief, which made it much easier. It was the same with writing classes and workshops - the tutor always gave you a heading or starting line. And useful tips.

Look to your life for ideas, she remembered. The emptiness of her life seemed to open before her. No, she wouldn't even look there. She wrote to escape her life not to explore it.

Fax meowed and rolled over at her feet, sensing the opportunity for a tummy rub.

'Not now,' she said again and hissed at him.

The cat sat up and gave her an affronted look before regaining his composure and sauntering towards the kitchen. He returned a few seconds later and shouted at her for food.

It's no good, she thought. I may as well go for a walk, clear my mind. Although her mind seemed curiously void of ideas.

It wasn't until she'd fed the cat and put on a bit of makeup that she noticed the dense clouds. A storm was coming. She opened the back door to look at the darkening sky. When she went back to the computer and checked the weather forecast, it said heavy rain. So much for the walk.

She spent a little while cleaning up her Inbox, then changed her security password, had a quick game of online chess which she lost and logged off. The screen went black. She looked around the office. She couldn't work in this clutter.

It was a large room but looked much smaller with all the bookcases. There was one each side of the open fireplace and another at right angles to her desk. It made the room quite claustrophobic, especially in the poor light. The third bookcase would definitely have to go. She would cull the books and move the bookcase into the bedroom. That way she could use it to put some of her clothes on and maybe her handbags along the top shelves. She would need help moving the bookcase but could ask her neighbour Yan when he arrived home from work.

It took all afternoon to clear the books from the shelves. She managed to fit some into the other two bookcases but would need to get rid of most of them. Perhaps take some to the Salvos. She started to stack the ones she could bear to give away along one wall. Other she stacked in different genres onto the desk. It was so hard. Some of the books, well most of the books, she had completely forgotten about, including the collection of annuals from her childhood. There were six dictionaries though and surely she didn't need all of those? She placed two Macquaries by the wall then took one of them back again.

Two of the shelves didn't contain books but things. A basket of odd bits of jewelry and broken sunglasses mixed with bulldog clips, a few paperclips and a couple of USB sticks. There was a hatbox filled with old textas and spare batteries and the box that once housed her now defunct mobile phone. At the back of the shelf was a crystal ball, wound up in a black sheer scarf with pink and silver sequins along the edges. It was standing on top of an old IKEA magnetic paperclip container. The cylinder shape was perfect for the globe to sit on. The scarf made it look a bit untidy but she’d read somewhere that a crystal ball should always be covered unless it was in use. She took it down carefully, unwrapped it and held it in her hands. It was heavy and dull. She gazed at it for a few moments, carefully wrapped it up again and placed it beside the keyboard.

She'd hardly used the crystal ball. An old friend arrived at the door with it one day. He cleaned out unpaid storage units. Apparently, people left all sorts of things. She didn’t know why he thought she’d want it. She wasn’t really into that sort of thing.

There was only that one time when she’d sat with the candlelight behind her and gazed into the ball. It was after Tim left and she’d drunk too much red wine. She couldn’t see anything through the tears and that was her only moment of surrender to the idea of destiny. Anyway, she wasn't sure she wanted to see the future or even entertain the thought that everything was predestined. It made the whole idea of making choices and trying to change things pointless if it was all set out for you in the first place.

She rang Yan at 6.00pm and asked if he could help her move the bookcase. Their relationship was, by unspoken consent, solely confined to feeding each other's cats when required and keeping a set of each other's keys but he had helped when her car wouldn’t start, and he said he would be happy to help.

The bookcase proved quite difficult to shift. It was taller than the doors and they had to lay it flat to get it into the hallway then raise it again once it was in the bedroom. The whole operation took close to an hour. At one stage, Yan got his hand stuck between the bookcase and the doorjamb and when they’d finished, he stood in the kitchen doorway holding a handkerchief wrapped around it.

'Glass of wine?' she asked. 'I think we deserve one.'

'Er, yeah sure,' he said. 'A quick one. I have a heap of work to get through tonight.'

Yan had once told her what he did for a living. It was something to do with science. She searched her memory, but it must have fallen into the not-very-important basket.

'What about you?' he asked. 'Did you sort out that drama with those clients?'

She tried to remember which clients he was talking about. Most of her projects had dramas and she usually went through a period of ranting about how stupid the clients were before she got down to work. It was her way of breaking the writing block.

'Oh yes,' she said. 'All sorted.' They both stood there with a glass of wine in hand. Yan said something about his next-door neighbour starting to build at Christmas and that he was surprised he was the only one to object, especially as they were going up a storey. She had a vague memory of a letter arriving suggesting she go down to the council building and view the proposed plans, but she hadn't made it. She had been in the middle of some project – something that had taken priority over the rest of her life. She needed to apply the same dedication and single mindedness to her creative writing. Yan was saying something about getting on and she thanked him again for helping.

When Yan left, she started to arrange the shelves in the bedroom. It was the perfect opportunity to sort out the top drawer of the dressing table. She could move some of the scarves and wraps to one of the shelves. Add a bit of colour. She put her newly folded pants and shorts on the next shelf and used the bottom one for spare linen. The added benefit of this was that she could get rid of the tatty wire linen holder that sat in the corner of the bedroom.

It wasn't until she’d finished that she realized how hungry she was. She‘d downed her second glass of wine by this time and was feeling a bit wobbly. She needed to eat.

Fax Cat wound himself around her legs to remind her it was his also time for supper. She gave him some Fussy Cat and took a frozen curry from the freezer and put in the microwave. As it zapped, she went to review her handiwork. The bedroom looked great. She put a few handbags on the top shelf of the bookcase. The second shelf was still empty. At one end, she placed a couple of small wooden jewelry boxes and at the other end the crystal ball, still wrapped up in its gypsy scarf and perched again on the IKEA paperclip holder.

The office was still a mess though. There were still the piles of books and other clutter on the desk. She would sort it out first thing in the morning, before she started writing. Then she would have a whole day clear to get a story finished - or at least started.

She returned to the kitchen, poured another glass of wine and sat down to eat the curry. It was still lukewarm in the middle, so she gave it a quick stir with her fork and returned it to the microwave for another minute.

She felt much better when she had eaten. It's amazing what a difference food can make to your mood. Relaxed and a little bit sleepy, she turned on the TV and flicked through a few programs. Even though she'd seen it before she watched Agatha Christie's Under the Sun and ate a bar of chocolate.

That night, lying in bed, she surveyed the bookcase. It was good. She felt content. True she hadn't written today but that was okay wasn't it? Sure it was! Don't beat yourself up, she reminded herself. 'I love you and respect you exactly as you are,' she mumbled as she turned off the bedside lamp.

There was a yowl at the bedroom door. Fax put his head around and looked at her. 'No, you're not going out now,' she told him. 'It's too late. Come in here with me.'

He ran off down the hallway and scratched the hall carpet. She waited. Either he would persist with wanting to go outside or he would settle down and come back into the bedroom to sleep. As she expected, after two minutes he came back in the room but this time he seemed to see the bookcase for the first time. He jumped up onto the bedside table, looked up at the near empty second shelf and took a leap. He landed heavily and the bookcase started to wobble. She had the sudden, awful feeling that it was going to topple onto her. Fax was looking down at her. He started to play with the sequins on the gypsy scarf wound around the crystal ball.

'Come on Fax.' She patted the bed. 'Get down.'

Fax considered this for a moment and jumped down onto the bed, but the scarf was still hooked on his claw. The crystal ball began to wobble.

'No,' she cried as the scarf unfurled, and the crystal ball toppled from its stand. It gave a thud as it fell onto the shelf and ricocheted towards her.

As it caught the light, reflecting her look of horror and disbelief. And in that moment, for a split second, she had a premonition of her own death.