I've Been Deader Read Online Free
Author: Adam Sifre
come from downstairs.
Chapter 5
Waking Up
A simpler time. A time when Dennis Miller was still funny, Roman Polanski didn't have a care in the world and Zombies weren't popping out from every dark alley and closet in North America.
It was a beautiful fall day in Comfort, Colorado, a sleepy little village nestled at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Ellen stood on the second step of her front stoop, hands clutching the wooden railing in a death grip; eyes squeezed shut and heart racing, too terrified to go inside and too terrified to stay outside. This was nothing new.
For the last thirty-seven years of her life, she’d suffered from intense agoraphobia and claustrophobia and a few other phobias thrown in for good measure. Yesterday she had made it all the way down the driveway to the mailbox. She was doing fine until a car sped by, so close her dress tried to follow in its wake. The noise drove her to her knees and she had crawled all the way back into the house, unable to stop sobbing.
Today is a new day, and every journey starts with one step.
Her house was a too-small ranch but the inside was one large room. She had all the interior walls knocked down and everything painted in pale blue. She spent her remaining savings on six skylights and track lighting along all four walls. Ellen kept the hundred-watt bulbs burning bright, day and night.
A large bed occupied the center of the room. A small television stood in one corner, and in another a computer desk with a large monitor and web-cam. Against the west wall a small refrigerator and stove, but other than that, the house was devoid of any furniture.
Ellen hated using the internet, frightened that someone would find a way to hack into her system. She had no real idea what this entailed, but the mere thought brought horrifying images to mind. She logged in once a week for her sessions with Dr. Katz, but that was it.
Today was Tuesday and her goal was to walk down the driveway, past the mailbox and across the street. Then she would come back, document her successful foray in her journal for Dr. Katz, and spend the day reading a book.
On Wednesday she was supposed to turn off half the lights when it got dark, and sit in her bed for ten minutes. As things were going now, her journal would say she spent Tuesday through Friday on the front stoop, afraid to open her eyes.
"This is ridiculous."
With surprisingly little effort - for her - Ellen opened her eyes. It was a beautiful day … peaceful. The street, never busy even at the worst of times, was always empty during this time of day. Aside from the faint noise of traffic drifting in from Rt. 202, and Mr. Potts delivering the mail a few houses down the road, Ellen could have been standing in a ghost town.
Now that would be lovely.
Remembering her relaxation exercises she took in a deep breath, held it for a moment and exhaled, feeling some of the tension drain from her arms and neck. Her hands loosened and the blood returned to her cramped fingers in equal parts of relief and pain.
Next step, take a step; then on to the mailbox.
At Dr. Katz' suggestion she made a game of the outing. Her goal was to get to the mail box before Mr. Potts made it to her house. Get the mail, hopefully without having to engage in any lengthy conversation with the mailman - one of the few people in Comfort older than Ellen - cross the street and then return to the stoop before Mr. Potts finished delivering the mail to the rest of the street.
The whole thing was exciting. Terrifying but exciting. She took a shaky step and then two.
Ladies and gents, she is off the stoop.
Being outside reminded her of when she was young and beautiful. All the boys in town wanted to walk with her then. Even if most of them were too shy to ask, she knew. That was before all her fears had taken root in her heart. Now she was old, scared, scarred and alone - always alone. But buried somewhere under all her fears was a memory of lightness
Chapter 5
Waking Up
A simpler time. A time when Dennis Miller was still funny, Roman Polanski didn't have a care in the world and Zombies weren't popping out from every dark alley and closet in North America.
It was a beautiful fall day in Comfort, Colorado, a sleepy little village nestled at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Ellen stood on the second step of her front stoop, hands clutching the wooden railing in a death grip; eyes squeezed shut and heart racing, too terrified to go inside and too terrified to stay outside. This was nothing new.
For the last thirty-seven years of her life, she’d suffered from intense agoraphobia and claustrophobia and a few other phobias thrown in for good measure. Yesterday she had made it all the way down the driveway to the mailbox. She was doing fine until a car sped by, so close her dress tried to follow in its wake. The noise drove her to her knees and she had crawled all the way back into the house, unable to stop sobbing.
Today is a new day, and every journey starts with one step.
Her house was a too-small ranch but the inside was one large room. She had all the interior walls knocked down and everything painted in pale blue. She spent her remaining savings on six skylights and track lighting along all four walls. Ellen kept the hundred-watt bulbs burning bright, day and night.
A large bed occupied the center of the room. A small television stood in one corner, and in another a computer desk with a large monitor and web-cam. Against the west wall a small refrigerator and stove, but other than that, the house was devoid of any furniture.
Ellen hated using the internet, frightened that someone would find a way to hack into her system. She had no real idea what this entailed, but the mere thought brought horrifying images to mind. She logged in once a week for her sessions with Dr. Katz, but that was it.
Today was Tuesday and her goal was to walk down the driveway, past the mailbox and across the street. Then she would come back, document her successful foray in her journal for Dr. Katz, and spend the day reading a book.
On Wednesday she was supposed to turn off half the lights when it got dark, and sit in her bed for ten minutes. As things were going now, her journal would say she spent Tuesday through Friday on the front stoop, afraid to open her eyes.
"This is ridiculous."
With surprisingly little effort - for her - Ellen opened her eyes. It was a beautiful day … peaceful. The street, never busy even at the worst of times, was always empty during this time of day. Aside from the faint noise of traffic drifting in from Rt. 202, and Mr. Potts delivering the mail a few houses down the road, Ellen could have been standing in a ghost town.
Now that would be lovely.
Remembering her relaxation exercises she took in a deep breath, held it for a moment and exhaled, feeling some of the tension drain from her arms and neck. Her hands loosened and the blood returned to her cramped fingers in equal parts of relief and pain.
Next step, take a step; then on to the mailbox.
At Dr. Katz' suggestion she made a game of the outing. Her goal was to get to the mail box before Mr. Potts made it to her house. Get the mail, hopefully without having to engage in any lengthy conversation with the mailman - one of the few people in Comfort older than Ellen - cross the street and then return to the stoop before Mr. Potts finished delivering the mail to the rest of the street.
The whole thing was exciting. Terrifying but exciting. She took a shaky step and then two.
Ladies and gents, she is off the stoop.
Being outside reminded her of when she was young and beautiful. All the boys in town wanted to walk with her then. Even if most of them were too shy to ask, she knew. That was before all her fears had taken root in her heart. Now she was old, scared, scarred and alone - always alone. But buried somewhere under all her fears was a memory of lightness
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