Micki's First Impressions

Authors: Alyse M. Wax

Hosted by VendrediAntiques.com


1: Micki's Impressions

The characters of "Friday the 13th: The Series" belong to
Frank Mancuso Jr. and Paramount Television. No copyright
infringement intended.


FIRST IMPRESSIONS TRILOGY:
MICKI'S THOUGHTS


By: Alyse Micki wax

I first arrived at the store late in the evening, after
dark. The lights were off, but the door swung open easily.
I walked in, disgusted by the dirt and grime I saw.

Something jumped out from behind the register at me.
Panicking, I grabbed a vase and smashed it over his head.
The intruder yelped out in pain. It was then that I realized
I had attacked my cousin Ryan.

We made our introductions. He seemed quite surprised
that I was a female.

We then set about exploring our store. i became more
disgusted by the minute. The wood molding was splintered,
cobwebs hung from the medieval lighting fixtures and
cluttered the corners. Everything was in disrepair. The
electricity and phones were off until tomorrow. That made me
feel a bit insecure. The one item that seemed t be in
immaculate condition was the shiny black Mercedes in the
garage. Ryan was completely taken by the car. i thought it
resembled a hearse.

Ryan and I couldn't stop arguing. He wanted to keep the
store, yet I was determined to sell off everything,
especially when we stumbled upon tons of valuable antiques in
some kind of vault in the basement. I was just beginning to
relax a bit, let down my guard to the unfamiliar
surroundings, when I heard a loud noise outside. Ryan went
to go check it out, leaving me alone. No sooner had he left,
the heavy stone vault doors swung shut and locked me in! I
screamed for Ryan, but he couldn't seem to get the damned
door open. I leaned against the door weakly, trying to calm
myself down, keep myself from hyperventilating or worse,
fainting. I am horribly claustrophobic, and it was very
stuffy in there, which makes me panic.
Strangely enough, what caused me to calm down was what I
saw on the far wall. On the shelf was a beautiful antique
doll, the kind with a moveable mouth. What really startled
me was that it sat up and looked at me! Before i had time to
thoroughly react, Ryan got the door open. I raced out,
upstairs, and tripped onto a sofa. I tried to break the fall
by grabbing onto the banister. Out of the ceiling fell an
old book, which listed hundreds of objects our uncle had
sold. I remember, at the time, I thought that where the book
had been stored was stranger than what the book contained.

Ryan and I argued some more about selling the store. In
the end I won, as usual. I also won the right to sleep in
the only real bedroom, a large, airy room with lace-covered
French doors and a balcony. Ryan wasn't thrilled, but hey,
women need more privacy, simple as that.

I was restless that night. It's hard sleeping in a new
place, all alone, when you had become so accustomed to
sleeping with someone else, only to wake up safe in their
arms. Eventually, I fell into a dreamless sleep.


*************************************************************


When I awoke the next morning, I felt surprisingly
rested, especially since I am not a morning person. Granted,
it was after noon, but I was still on L.A. time. By the time
I was up and dressed, I found that Ryan had already sold a
good portion of antiques. The rest of the day passed by
without incident, other than the fact that Ryan, against my
wishes, sold the doll that had seemed so alive yesterday.

That evening, Ryan and I went downstairs to retrieve the
remaining antiques so they would be ready to sell tomorrow
morning. While down there, a loud noise came from upstairs,
just as before. I refused to be left down there alone

He grabbed a large metal rod, and the two of us crept
stealthily upstairs. I expected to find a cat, or a mouse.
Instead, Ryan and I came face-to-face with a man who
identified himself as Jack Marshak. He was an older man, in
his 50s or 60s, overweight and balding. His initial demeanor
was gruff and harsh. When we identified ourselves as
relatives of our late uncle Lewis, his voice was full of
surprise, and just a hint of pity.

We went upstairs, into the kitchen, to talk over coffee.
Jack told us the horrible truth about our "dear uncle Lewis."
A fantastic story I didn't believe; took too lightly.

If only I hadn't been so callous.


Finale.


"I'm not the one who made the world what it is today. But now
I deal with all the consequences that trouble our times."
-- The Offspring, "Not The One"