Purple Time
She reached her hand to touch my face and I ducked instinctively. Smashing the mirror behind me, the shards piercing my back I ran as fast as I could out of the bathroom, running through thick time.
On the hallway I could hear mom’s Turkish TV blasting at full volume, the sounds distorted by my adrenaline and the Doppler effect.
I turned around for a second to see, the Erinyes was chasing me like a feline predator, her movements slow but steady. She was smiling, the kariola was smiling.
The door smashed into splinters at my left and a rather big piece pierced my cheek. I spat blood and ran to the balcony.
The sun was blinding and I was disoriented for a couple of seconds too long. She came closer and opened her arms as if to embrace me, her nails scratching the bookcase at her right with impossibly bright mauve sparks, as if she was welding the books to reality.
The automatic sprinkler had watered the plants and I could smell the lovely moist dirt and the fresh flowery fragrance.
“What a lovely place to die,” I thought and realised I got myself trapped in the balcony, no exit but down. No, not down, it is too high. Next balcony, yeah, I can reach it.
Mrs Toula would not be happy to see me crashing her place uninvited but she’ll get over it.
I started climbing the mid-wall that separates the balconies from the neighbours and grabbed a hold of the aluminium thing and stepped on a big potted plant and then I slipped and fell and hit my head.