Creamy Tomato Bisque

I opened the door to my apartment and stood in the empty darkness of the doorway. After a short moment, I flicked on the lights. The alder floors, oak chairs, and walnut table begrudgingly greeted me. I turned to drop my bags of produce on the kitchen counter, when I fell back, startled. A shadowy figure was hovering right outside my window, the window was a few stories up, I blinked and it was gone. I ran to the bathroom to splash my face with water.My damp face stared back at me in the mirror. I struck myself in an attempt to stabilize my pounding heart. I dashed back to the living room and jolted straight to the window. I opened the window and stuck my head out triumphantly. My head spun in circles searching for anything out of place. I returned to my kitchen and took a moment to breathe. I decided the best course of action was to begin preparing my vegetables.

I grabbed the onions and garlic from the bag on the floor and slowly minced. The gentle rocking felt cathartic to my worries. I grabbed and quartered the tomatoes from the bag: two San Marzano, two Hot House, and a can of whole tomatoes. I took the empty bag and prepared to fold it when a glimpse of a final tomato caught my eye. I grasped the lone tomato and began to raise it, when it started to crumple in my hands. Its starchy juices leached into my skin and its grainy flesh dripped onto my foot. I dropped it and ran to the sink. I wiped away the shame and began to clean the floor. 

I picked up a large pot and began to sweat my onions and garlic in a bath of butter before I tossed the remaining herbs in. I placed my quartered tomatoes and my canned tomatoes in the pot and began to simmer. Suddenly, my head spun around as a loud screech perturbed my gentle silence. It sounded as though a pair of claws slowly crept down the walls, inching towards me. I grabbed the knife and backed up into the corner. My eyes darted around the room for any sign of life. All I saw was steam emanating from the pot in front of me. My legs shuffled forward as the knife wobbled in my hand. I began to shake. I began to shake more and more, until I felt as though the room was shaking. I shook so frantically that I fell backwards to the floor in a panic. My head hit the granite countertops; I slouched down unconscious.



I jumped awake to the smell of fresh herbs. The soup was just about ready. I grabbed my immersion blender, and blended the vegetables into a thick puree, it evened out into a thinner soup before I walked to the fridge for my carton of cream. I opened the door, grabbed the cream, and turned around sharply. A trail of thick red dots had followed me to the fridge. I instantly reached for the back of my head and felt a moist glop of hair soaked in a foreign liquid. I looked at my finger and was horrified by its thin, red blanket. I grabbed my phone and called my brother.

The phone rang four times before he picked up.

“Hi El, is everything alright”

I took a second before responding shakely

“Can you come over? I don’t feel well”

“I’m a little busy right now. I was about to watch a movie”

“I need you here. I can’t do this on my own”

“Do what, what’s going on?”

“I’m trying to make soup, and my head is bleeding, and I think someon…”

“What? I’ll come right away”

I poured the cream into the soup and ladled some into a bowl. Some of my blood crept into the soup, but I didn’t mind. The first bite was divine, but its flavor diminished as I continued. I began to walk around my apartment to see if anything was askew. The living room and kitchen looked straight. I calmly walked to the bathroom, but the door dramatically shut behind me. I slammed it open and ran out. No one was there. The bathroom door shut behind me. I ran in. It closed me in. The lights flickered off. I could barely see. The mirror stood in front of me. I stood shaking, sweating. I could see the shadowy figure standing right where I was on the other side of the mirror. My skin crawled as I reached for the light switch, but just before my hand reached the switch something sharp swung down on my hand. I hollered in pain. My hand felt like it was welting, shrinking, slowly crushing every bone. 

The door swung open; my brother just stood and stared. Black veins ran up my arm. I laid on my back; tears filled my eyes. The black veins ran up my neck. My throat closed up. My face turned purple. He picked me up and ran to his truck, but it was too late. My brother sat in agony and wept loudly; his sorrow was tainted by confusion.

 

willrchilds

OR

18 years old