Free Rest In Peace by Richie Tankersley Cusick

worse when they encroached upon reality.
    She wasn’t even sure what reality was anymore.
    Her mind drifted back to school. To the girl coming out of the building, to the image of someone falling. Was she meant to give Wanda Carver a warning? How could she possibly approach a complete stranger like that? Offer some dire prediction that might be nothing more than the result of a head injury?
    Just thinking about the consequences made Lucy shudder. Popular cheerleader Wanda Carver would tell the entire school. As low as Lucy’s status already was, this bit of gossip would annihilate it completely.
    Feeling depressed and defeated, Lucy sat up in bed. Why even bother telling anyone anything ? She’d tried to tell people about the cave. About her escape through the woods, about the unknown stranger who’d rescued her. She knew how much people doubted her; even worse, she’d started doubting herself. She knew she couldn’t prove anything about her terrifying experience, but that didn’t make it less real. As real as these stitches on her head, these bruises fading from her face, the cuts and scratches healing along her arms and legs.
    As real as seeing things without warning . . . as real as knowing things I can’t explain.
    Somewhere along the way, the fragile boundaries between Real and Unreal had shifted. Somewhere along the way, the boundaries between Seen and Unseen had begun to unravel and disappear.
    Frowning, Lucy reached over to the nightstand. That’s funny . . . I could have sworn that lamp was on.
    In fact, she distinctly remembered turning it on when she’d come in earlier, right before she’d changed clothes. And she’d been staring at the lampshade, too, right after she’d stretched out on the bed.
    She jiggled the switch back and forth. But when no light came on, she swore under her breath and fiddled with the lightbulb. Still no luck.
    She realized then that dusk had fallen. She could see snow outside the sliding glass doors, drifting onto the little balcony. The house was very quiet. A vast, empty quiet that told Lucy she was still alone. Nervously she got up, closed the curtains, and went out into the hall, rubbing her arms against the chill. The house felt even colder now than it had that afternoon.
    The light in the hall didn’t work either. As Lucy felt her way to the top of the stairs, she could see only darkness below. Irene had had automatic timers installed in every room—the whole first floor should be glowing with lamps by now.
    Wonderful. The electricity must be off.
    Lucy stood on the landing, trying to think. It wasn’t the first time the house had lost power, but it usually happened only during storms. Maybe it was something simple, like a fuse in the circuit breaker. Maybe that’s why the house felt so cold.
    Cautiously she reached out to grip the bannister. She’d have to go down and check the fuse box. She’d have to go all the way down to the basement. Anger flared inside her, mixed with fear. Why did Irene always have to work so late? Why couldn’t she stay home and care even a little bit about Lucy’s feelings?
    I need a flashlight. I need to find a flashlight before I do anything else.
    Lucy forced her thoughts into a more positive direction. No need to panic. She’d reset the security system after Matt left; she was completely safe. Not even a fly could get in; isn’t that what Irene had promised her? Everything was fine. Everything was normal. She’d fix the circuit breaker, and then she’d turn on every single light in the house.
    Taking a deep breath, she turned and headed for her bedroom. There was a flashlight in her nightstand drawer, one Irene had insisted she keep there for emergencies. In fact, Irene had flashlights stored all over the house, if Lucy could only remember now where they were. She could always call 911 if she got really scared. Quit being such a wimp—it’s not