𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊;
An oppressive headache greeted Donna as she woke. Confusing dreams left the thirty-two year old exhausted despite her rest, disoriented and sluggish as she squinted at the clock blinking 9:30am on her bedside table. Ugh. Time for pancakes.
But upon entering the kitchen, glancing out across the adjacent living room of her apartment, Donna's slate grey eyes landed on a most jarring, neon sight.
Lurid pink, yellow and green squares littered Donna's lounge, stuck haphazardly to furniture and walls. The notes were scrawled in black ink... in handwriting that 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙣’𝙩 hers.
"ᗪOᑎ'T TEᒪᒪ TᕼE ᒪᗩᑎᗪᒪOᖇᗪ."
"ᗯE ᑎEEᗪ ᗰEᗩT."
"ᕼEᒪᒪO, TᖇEᗩᑕᒪE!"
Half a shopping list, the beginning of a thought, an ominous greeting. Was it a dumb prank pulled by her boorish brother? Intruders? She'd heard stories of deranged individuals taking up residence in people's attics. Was it one of those? Donna's sleep-addled mind whirred through a thousand possibilities before she grabbed her phone to desperately tap a concerned text to her best friend.
Within an hour and a half, Donna's closest friend, Theresa, had arrived to save the day. One doctors appointment, a carbon monoxide detector and a terse call to the landlord had confirmed that the mysterious notes were most likely left by Donna herself. A mild case of monoxide poisoning had caused her to scrawl confused notes in ragged letters leaving no memory of her night-time tryst.
The following day, leak discovered, fixed and the apartment deemed safe, Donna was back, safely ensconced in her post-it and carbon monoxide-free home. That night, she slept better than she had in 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴.
When 9:30am blinked the following morning, Donna was already half-way to the kitchen. Pancakes. Finally, pancakes.
But upon entering the kitchen, glancing out across the adjacent living room of her apartment, Donna's slate grey eyes landed on a most jarring, neon sight.
𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭.
"ᗯE'ᖇE ᔕTIᒪᒪ ᕼEᖇE..."
Originally written and shared as part of Verbuary 2020: https://tinyurl.com/ucprdf9w