The Reset
The house was silent with only the humming of the ancient clock filling the room in subdued trots mimicking the sound of steeds pulling carriages nearby. The dim room was bathed in soft fluorescent light illuminating the mantlepiece holding relics of the past and slightly falling on the shoulders of the figure sitting in the corner. In greater inspection, you could see her facial features were a mixture of perplexity and disdain frozen in deep thought. The lamp flickered, briefly startling her. Svella was terrified of the dark. Her fear stemmed from the mental agitation she experienced from a reoccurring nightmare. The dream occurs every time she turns all the lights out. Since the first occurrence of that dream, she refuses to ever sleep with the lights out again because something terrifying lurked in the dark.
Automobiles that usually filled the streets with their racing engines, were quietly sleeping during the midnight hour. Click Clock. Click Clock. The trots of the steeds neared closer and closer startling Svella from her pensive thinking. Hearing steeds steps during the deep silence created an eerie feeling of the past colliding with the present. On her street were rows of sparsely laid out neatly plotted homes with vast freshly manicured lawns. The homes were created by the architect in designs of federal or new England builds. Each home was adorned with freestanding mailboxes that bordered the curbs and housed one and two car garages. Brightening the homes was the presence of colorful flowerbeds that decorated the exterior. By evening most residents had arrived home and there was not much noise or excitement occurring. Sometimes in the distance she could hear the tap of the steed shoes of steeds pulling carriages. Often, she saw the figures in the steed carriages clothed in suits or pilgrim-like clothing sitting soundlessly. The men, wearing large broad hats, and the women adorning bonnets with long flowing dresses. The women's dresses seemed stiff and stoic, reminiscent of an earlier era. Their clothing seemed archaic in comparison to preppy and post grunge styles of the modern era. The carriage halted to a sudden stop causing the steeds to buckle in protestation. She dared not approach the window to confirm her suspicions that they were nearby. Though in the past, seeing their presence around the county, reminded Svella of the Amish people who lived humble and pious lives in the backcountry of Lancaster County. The Amish lived without television, radio, cell phones, or electricity. Their lives were a reflection of their unfaltering humility to simplicity that was void of materialism, debauchery, modernity, and industrialization. She often admired their ability to ignore the outside world and live unadulterated lives. She imagined what a life like that would be like. How wonderful it must be, she thought, to not have the constraints of such a daily fast-paced society life filled with competition, envy, and constant sensory overload. Her admiration of the simple life was short-lived, as the thought of loneliness started to creep in on her. She thought about the isolation, boredom, and strict cultural norms that also came with that lifestyle. The lack of freedom of expression, individuality, and mundane tasks and chores repeated every day. Her daydream was interrupted by the nearing of the steed trots. Click Clock Click Clock.
As the carriage neared her location, she could hear the faint sounds of the chimes in the breeze announcing their presence in musical notes filling the void. The trees swayed in the breeze chiming in with the rhythm. The steeds neighed and whinnied in contestation to the driver who pulled at the reigns of the steed to halt their progression, causing them to grunt in anticipation. The silence was so thick that she could hear the driver's steel tip shoes clink on the ground. She could no longer resist looking out the window and thus walked around the entire house to find a spot where she could peer through the blinds to see who the figure was outside her window. She carefully lifted the blinds to observe what was occurring. On the carriage, she saw the reflective red triangle from the rear of the carriage glaring in the night making the carriage appear more prominently in the darkness.
She watched as the figure tipped his hat to the passenger and said, in a distinct deep voice, "I don't know if she is listening. The time is near. She needs to know…" A pasty white hand appeared from the carriage silencing him with a reply that was so muffled she could not hear the conversation.
The driver approached the horses, briefly pretended to adjust the blinders, then walked back to the carriage. Before approaching the carriage, he stopped dead still and looked right in her direction, as if he could see her. Svella jumped back from the win?ow in exasperation. Had he seen her? Who was he referring to and why did he say such a thing on a desolate road in the middle of the night? Why was there such an urgency to stop the stagecoach in the middle of the night to make such an announcement? She heard the gentleman reboard the carriage, gather the reigns of the horses, and continue his passage into the night. Chills went down her spine. Though, her first thought was comedic, "Is this some Dracula stuff? Because I need to know if I'm going to become a vampire." She laughed the thought off, turned out the light, and went to bed. Strange occurrences were starting to be the norm instead of the exception.