Red Lights by Danielle Ramaekers

Red Lights by Danielle Ramaekers

Suspended in front of her face was a small creature radiating a soft red light. Not too glary, but enough to illuminate from its head down to its tiny toes, where sharp talons protruded out where nails should have been. It stared at her with round eyes. Skydive instructor, Skydive instructor. She prodded her iPhone until it glowed. 3 am January 1st. She tried to bat the critter away, but it stayed hovering in front of her, its thin wings humming. Skydive instructor. Skydive instructor. The thought tumbled through her mind like a song on repeat until she fell back into a restless sleep.

She awoke early the next morning. Reaching for the journal on her nightstand, she flipped to a new page and scrawled December 24th, 8/10, 9/10, 6/10, then closed the journal and pushed back the covers. Time for coffee.

“Buenos dias Ivy!” Her dad stood in front of the stove whistling while flipping a sizzling omelette in a pan.

“Ah, morning, Dad. What’s with the Spanish?”

“I’m off to Madrid next week, and I need to know the lingo, no?” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

It suddenly occurred to her that his hair was much longer than he usually preferred. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

Skydive instructor. Skydive instructor.

She shook her head, slid into a chair at the kitchen table, and peered at her mother. “Are you wearing silks, Mum?”

“It’s my new uniform! I’m off to the trainers today.”

“Since when have you preferred to ride the horse instead of bet on it?”

“Since today, of course! Now that The January Law has passed.”

The omelette sizzled louder in the pan. She let her breath out slowly. Her family had some quirks, but this was next level. “Is that a crop?” She pointed at the leather stick leaning against her mum’s thigh underneath the table.

“They passed they passed!” Her sister burst into the room. “They got in! I’m like, so excited! Every thirty-one days, a new passion, a new dream, a new adventure! I’m totes taking up belly dancing.” Charlotte shimmied down the stairs and sashayed across the kitchen floor.

How odd. Charlotte never voted. And I forgot. She looked from her father to her mother then back to her younger sister. “I need coffee.” And an exit.

“Oh, a barista is it? Café owner perhaps?” Her father winked as he flipped the omelette onto a plate and pushed it towards her.

“Thanks, Dad, I’ll eat it later.” Ivy headed back to her room. That was weird. She pulled on a pair of leggings and rummaged in her wardrobe until she found a wearable t-shirt. After lacing up her Nikes, she walked downstairs.

“Make sure you’ve got your hat and sunnies!”

Man Mum’s loud this morning. She opened the front door. Her favourite café was a five-minute walk down the busy street. Not far enough to get sunburned, but the sun was bright, so she slipped on her shades.

Things got weirder outside. The street looked the same, but the people sure didn’t. She passed a pimply-faced teenager dressed in a snug sailors uniform and a blonde lady wearing a seashell bra and matching mermaid’s tail. Two kids dressed as Elsa and Spiderman walked hand in hand up her neighbour’s driveway. It’s like Carnival hit suburbia. She pulled her hat tighter over her head.

She turned the corner to her local coffee shop and joined the short queue. A minute later she ordered a long black at the counter, then sank into a chair at the closest table. The café was busy. Sitting at the table next to her was a tall, thin woman dressed in black and a middle-aged man in a Hawaiian shirt cradling a pair of bongo drums in his lap.

“I don’t even care that my birthday month just missed out,” the woman in black crossed her long legs and leaned back in her chair.

“I hear ya.” The man tapped the drums in short, dull thuds.

“Thirty-one days to become a poet. I mean, I’d change the day of my birthday not just the month for that. Who needs February anyhow?”

“No-one.” His fingers beat harder on the drums. “No-one needs February – December. It’s the law, those months are no more.”

The woman snapped her fingers twice. “Exactly! But it’s kinda strange, I mean, I’ve never thought about writing poetry. But I woke up with the word poet, poet, poet spiralling in my mind like a cosmic whirlpool of suggestion.”

Cosmic whirlpool? She sat up a little straighter. The memory of the glowing gremlin flared. Skydive instructor, skydive instructor.

“Here’s ya long black, Hon,” the waitress placed a cup of coffee down on Ivy’s table.

She let the coffee cool then downed it in one hit. Then she walked the back way home. It took longer, but things were quieter there.

For the rest of the month, her father texted photos of lush parks and old-world architecture with messages that read Better view than I had from the office and No more suits for this muchacho!

Three weeks later, her mother placed a shining trophy cup on the mantel above the fireplace and hung her riding crop on the wall above it.

Charlotte belly danced everywhere. Even in the kitchen, as if magic carpets lined the floor instead of wooden boards.

She couldn’t make sense of any it.

Skydive instructor, Skydive instructor. The tiny glowing creature hovered close to her nose this time, its talons almost touching her skin. “Buzz off.” She waved a hand back and forth, but it flitted closer. Are its eyes bigger? She checked her phone. January 31st. Probably a software glitch. She fell back into a fitful sleep.

She jolted upright in bed the next morning. She was sweating. Her stomach lurched, and the sound of roaring wind echoed in her ears. Reaching for her journal, she jotted down 7/10, 6/10, 5/10, and rolled out of bed.

She walked down the hallway and opened the kitchen door a crack. Please let things be normal today. “Morning!” She opened the door wider.

“Wanna try some?” Charlotte, dressed head to toe in matching pink lycra, flicked off an industrial-sized blender and thrust a jug filled with dark green juice under Ivy’s nose. “It’s ketogenic!”

She sniffed and stepped backwards. It was too early for chopped spinach and shredded cucumber. “Maybe after my coffee.”

“Eureka!” her father jumped out of his chair at the kitchen table. The pinky ring he’d been wearing since returning from Madrid sparkled in the bright morning light. He closed the book he was working on. “Nailed it! I’ll be finished with this by the end of the month for sure.”

Skydive instructor, Skydive instructor.

Attempting a casual air, she picked an apple from a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter and spun it lightly in her hands. “So, guys, what’s with these new hobbies?”

“They’re not hobbies.” Her father crossed his arms.

“They’re dreams! Passions! Don’t be a hater Ivy, or I’ll report you” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed underneath her pink sweatband.

Play along. “The Law of January, right.”

What on earth has gotten into them?

This latest half-hour of weirdness required a healthy coffee fix. Outside, the sun was fierce, forcing her to put on her sunnies. The short walk to the café just reinforced the Carnival feel. People were coming and going from their houses dressed in ball gowns and pinstriped suits. Weeds grew over the lawn of one of her neighbours’ home, and children ran by wearing pyjamas, half-zipped wetsuits or nothing at all.

Double-shot required.

She turned the corner to the café and almost knocked over the buckets of flowers perched on a bench where outdoor tables and chairs should have been.

A man with a handlebar moustache stepped out from behind the counter. “Three bunches for fifty dollars.”

The red stripes running down the florist’s apron rippled. The light pressure that had been there since she woke up ballooned inside her head. Backing away, she turned and walked towards the beach, inhaling the fresh salt air. At the end of the footpath, on a park bench overlooking the water, sat an older man wearing beige trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt.

She stepped towards him. “Excuse me, what’s the date today?”

The elderly gentleman turned towards her. Clasping his wrinkled hands on top of a thick wooden cane, he glanced left then right. “They’re saying it’s January 1st, but I reckon it’s more like November 24th. There’s no way to be certain. They burned all the calendars. Doesn’t matter though, I’m not letting those damn fairies in my head either way.”

Fairies?

“Crazy shits they are. Spouting all sort of wild ideas into people’s minds. I’ve seen them at night, hovering in the air like big red houseflies. Heard them too.”

Things were going dark, like walking inside after being out on the patio on a bright summer’s day. She swayed a little and reached a hand to steady herself on the back of the bench.

“I know you’ve seen them too. Listen, the only way to get rid of them, and that blasted new law, is to swat the hell outta ‘em. And restore that damn calendar.”

After taking a minute to process, she opened her eyes. “They look more like gremlins to me.” Her voice met thin air. The man on the park bench was gone.

She took the back way home again. Inside her house, a soft meow broke through her mental fog. On the landing, in between the two flights of stairs opposite the entryway, sat a fluffy kitten nearly the size of a grown cat. Steady thumps plonked down from upstairs as two more giant kittens came to join it.

“Aren’t they just incredible?” her mother stepped out of her bedroom. “They’re Maine Coons darling, that’s M-A-I-N-E coon. Your father keeps calling them ‘Cancuns’.”

One of the cats lifted a paw and licked it steadily, eyeballing her from the landing.

“They’re great, Mum.” Not enough headspace for this. Climbing the stairs, she skirted the furry figures on the landing, entered her bedroom and headed straight for her wardrobe. Her old diaries had to be somewhere. She hunted around the sagging top shelf until she found them. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she leafed through pages bursting with bumper stickers, postcards, bad teenage poetry and…a-ha! A small calendar from 2004. She peeled it from the page and clasped it in her hands.

“Mum,” she called.

“Yes, darling.” Her mum came to stand in the doorway, holding one of the kittens in her arms.

“Do you have any 2020 calendars?”

“No, dear. We burnt them all in a big bonfire out back before you came home.”

He was right.

That month, the Maine Coons grew to the size of small dogs. “You spent how much?!” Her father’s voice reverberated down the hallway.

“Tsk tsk, you can’t put a price on dreams!” Her mother threw her hands in the air.

“You can when we’re down on mortgage payments!”

“Well, I didn’t pack up and go to Europe, did I?”

She closed her bedroom door. They’re so loud.

“Ivy? Ivy! Where’s the yoga mat? I can’t find it!” Charlotte banged on the closed bedroom door.

“I don’t know!” Had she even packed it? She hadn’t been able to do downward facing dog in weeks.

“UGH!”

“I’m not sure that keto diet is working for you, Char!” she raised her voice as her sister stomped off down the stairs.

She covered her ears with her hands. Time for some air.

She skipped the café and went straight to the beach. Along the sand, people strolled back and forth wearing sequinned tiaras that sparkled like the ocean underneath the hot sun. The salt breeze was cooling. Where is he? The park bench was empty. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. Come on, don’t cry. You’ve got this. She took a deep breath, turned to leave and bumped into a woman standing behind her. The pile of pamphlets the woman had been holding fluttered to the ground.

“I’m so sorry!” She bent down, scrambling to pick them up. Catching her breath, she gathered them together into a haphazard stack, stood up slowly, and handed them back to the woman.

“Take one.” The woman offered her a pamphlet from the top of the pile.

“Town Dream, you’re invited to participate! Bring a smile. January 31st.”

“Wait!” Maybe she knows about red lights and glowing gremlins. But the woman had already moved on.

For the rest of the month, the cats skidded down the hallway every morning, chasing the red laser light her mother had bought them. Her father nailed so much Sudoku he turned to online competitions. Charlotte developed biceps and a post-nasal drip.

On the last weekend, her mother stepped into the doorway of her room. “Town party’s tonight, wear something nice dear.”

“I remember.” She slid the 2004 calendar into her pocket then went to visit the mantel over the fireplace in the lounge.

Later that night, the cats’ soft footsteps followed her to the town hall, before they disappeared along with her family onto the crowded dance floor for the final countdown.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1!

The crowd hollered as Imagine blasted from the stage speakers. Above the music came a high-pitched buzz and then the glowing red lights were everywhere.

Skydive instructor, Skydive instructor.

“No!” The riding crop connected with a soft smack. A glimmering red ball arced over the crowd and landed with a splat on one of the walls. After sticking for a moment it slid down in gooey spurts, leaving a trail of red slime behind it. Buzzing whizzed past her left ear. She drew her arm back and lifted it high. Thwack! The buzz faded out. A red orb flew through the air and landed at the feet of one the Maine Coons perched on the other side of the hall. The cat nudged it with its paw then bent its head low and licked the ground clean.

At the front of the hall, a tiny frame, splattered with red droplets, hung on the wall above the stage. Taking a deep breath, she elbowed past a Bowie look-alike, crossed the floor and took the steps two at a time. Unhooking the splattered frame, she turned it over. Her fingers slipped as she tried to open the cardboard backing and remove the glass. She caught it before it fell. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. She reached inside her pocket and pulled out the crumpled calendar. It was a snug fit, but finally, she clicked the glass and backing into place then hung the worn frame back on the hook. It lit up in soft red light. The buzz deepened.

What the…?

Whizz! An orb flew past her shoulder and disappeared in the cavernous red light of the frame. Bzz! Another creature shot into the frame glowed bright and was gone. She closed her eyes, but the flare continued behind her eyelids. When the glow faded, she opened her eyes. Only the smooth surface of the hall wall remained. Her shoulders dropped as she let out a whoosh of held air. Something soft nudged around her ankles. One of the Maine Coons purred around her feet, its tail flitting back and forth. She scooped it into her arms. Time to go home.

She awoke to a gentle tapping on her bedroom door the next morning.

“Ivy dear, are you awake?”

“I am now, Mum.”

“We’re having champagne! I know you shouldn’t, but it’s Christmas Day darling!”

“Be down in a minute.” She reached for her journal. 0/10,0/10, 0/10. Progress. Flipping back the covers, she headed downstairs.

Bright lights hit her as soon as she opened the rumpus door. “Christmas Tree looks great!”

Her father picked a parcel from under the tree. “Here, open this.”

Tearing off the wrapping, she lifted the lid on a plain cardboard box. “Ha! What made you go for a skydiving helmet this year?”

Her mother draped an arm across her shoulders. “That’s so you don’t hit your head again. You’ve been acting a bit like poor old Freddy from down the road. And that disco ball last night! I caught you swatting the air at the town party with an old riding crop of mine. I’ve no idea where you’ve found it.”

Her father cleared his throat. “Freddy’s got dementia. Concussion heals.” He turned to her. “We just want you to get better. We’ve been trying to stay positive. Liven up the place a bit. It’s been a big year since your skydiving accident.”

“Time’s flown by,” Charlotte spread her hands wide. “But with your symptoms gone down so much, and January right around the corner, it’s, like, totally go time. Greenlight. You can do anything you want.”

THE END

Copyright Danielle Ramaekers 2021