Monkey Diaries Archive

"Do you live here?" The woman asking the question was old. Older than dirt. Definitely older than the stain that all but covered the front of her dress. "Yes. Can I help you?" the man asked. "I lived here once." she offered. Hard to believe, he thought to himself. "A long time ago... before," she said. "Before what?" the man asked as he closed the gate behind him, not knowing her intention. "Before a lot of things. Before you. Before time." she stared. This was more like it. He was used to dealing with the crazy-ass homeless people who wandered up through Russian Hill. In his neighborhood they had their very own homeless guy. He lives in a box in the alley skirting the building's west side. But he rarely ever ventured out onto Union Street, preferring to stay in the alley. "That's nice!" He offered, already discounting her. She laughed, the sound guttural and ominous, like something waking up from a deep sleep in her lungs. "You think I'm crazy. You... Think... I'm... Crazy..." she sang in a sing song voice that was infinitely more frightening than that laugh. She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and placed it in his hand. "You're going to need it where you're going." she cackled. She left him standing at the door, staring after her hunched form as it disappeared around the corner. He shivers, still hearing the laughter and smelling the sickly sweet odor of her sweat. He carefully pulled the paper open, tearing here and there but unable to help it. Five simple words but words that would change what he believed to be true about life. Death comes for Simon today. He tried shaking the feeling off, desperately clinging to the idea that she was crazy and had just handed the note to the first random person she encountered. Unfortunately, his name was scrawled in the same hand-written script. There was no mistake, the note was meant for him.