Roommates with a Writer (Chapters 1-3)

Chapter 1

Vampires, werewolves and masked killers walked the floor with her, carrying any number of blood covered weapons. Teeth gnashed, clowns laughed maniacally, and several madmen stared at her with hollow eyes. She could hardly take it all in at once, adrenaline coursing through her. Bodies were packed into a warehouse that clearly wasn’t large enough.

She’d finally made it to her first Horror Con!

Shelley couldn’t care less, though a little space would have been nice. Still, she wasn’t going to miss this for the world. 

Weapons made of plastic, of course, and blood stains made from paint, but the effects were perfect and the photos didn’t do them justice. 

Screams pierced air already filled with sound snippets from the latest movies.

She’d been self-conscious about going to her first convention, especially one as big as this, but others were dressed in normal clothes, too, so that was honestly calming. Everything she’d seen from events like these involved people decked out in professional level costuming. But luckily, the cosplaying wasn’t necessary, though maybe she could plan something for next year. The latest Dracula get-ups were fun. Maybe she could add her own casual twist to them. There had to be thousands of vampires as is, anyway. She’d blend right in. 

Side-stepping between an alien with a huge curved tail, and another person in a strange costume, Shelley tried to not touch either of them by accident. Her hair snagged against a costume piece, pulling for one painful moment before she was finally free. Once in the new spot, she looked back, hoping she hadn’t broken anything. 

The alien was still talking to a few friends who weren’t dressed up, but a Creature from the Lagoon turned to see her. She could just make out the person’s grin under the mask and the calm shrug. Her hair had caught in one of the twigs they had used to show off the “dripping muck” effect and almost knocked it loose, but the glue held. 

 “I’m so sorry,” Shelley said, backing away, glad they shrugged it off. 

Turning back to the new alley space full of booths, Shelley had to pause for a moment again. There was no way she could see everything in just one day. She could barely make out the wall of posters right next to her with the thick crowd. Thankfully, she’d been able to save for over a year for a motel nearby and a two-day pass. That still might not be enough time to see it all, but Shelley could already feel her social battery draining. Two days was perfect. 

Walking down an aisle of masks and figures, she made a mental note to come back to the posters and probably come earlier in the morning. The unique art was always gorgeous, even with the blood splatter, and if she could budget the trip right, she could afford a few small ones or one larger one. 

Shelley turned down another row and was able to steal a breath of relatively fresh air. The crowds had dispersed for a bit here, though there were still dozens of people milling about, plus shop owners. 

Part way down, she had to stop. Countless weapons and blades shone in the sterile warehouse light, practically winking at her. 

Swords were always a weakness for her wallet. They were always too expensive, but for Christmas once her Gran did get a perfect replica from one of her favourite shows. Horror stories might have been her first love, but fantasy was a very close second. 

And just above her was a clawed glove of finger knives. She could practically hear villainous laughter, challenging her to buy it. 

The only problem was the price tag. 

Shelley practically had to force her eyes away from the glove with its glorious blades, but of course, there was more in the booth’s protective case before her. Some were as long as her forearm, while others looked almost delicate. 

She was about to turn away, reminding herself that the posters were just as cool and less expensive when one more blade caught her eye. 

It was in a different locked case with the label “Real/Not Toys” taped in several places. It was thin, almost like a switch blade, but there was a sheath next to it. That sheath and the small hilt were perfectly bound in twisted leather, but it was the blade itself that really stole her attention. 

The steel seemed to weave in on itself and was stained a deep red, as if it was always coated in blood. 

It was like walking through a bookstore, and all of a sudden, a cover, a title or author’s name jumps out at you. There’s no harm in picking up the book, reading the back, maybe even buying it. The knife was different in that regard, but it still seemed to call to her. 

The price wasn’t even too bad. It was more expensive than the fake ones of its size, but also not as much as the others in the case. She’d have to veto the poster, but this blade was another work of art all on its own. It was a little out of her budget, but if she made sure dinner was smaller, she would be fine. Or hell, have a normal dinner and skip breakfast. 

Yeah! She’d never bought her own knife before, either. It felt like a perfect first treat for this convention. 

Glancing up, she saw the stall owner chatting with another man, so she waited, not wanting to interrupt them but hoping they wouldn’t take too long. Standing here, staring at the same knives, would get awkward. 

“Perfect! Just one moment then,” she caught the owner saying with a huge grin. 

Oh good, they’re almost done, she thought. 

The owner smiled at her when he turned to the case of real knives. She smiled back, not really sure if she should say something yet. 

The other man stood beside her now, waiting patiently for his knife, and covered in fake blood like he’d just murdered someone. That wasn’t a bad idea for an easy costume actually.  

The owner unlocked the case and gently picked up Shelley’s red knife. 

“Oh, wait,” Shelley said, only realizing she’d drawn both of their attention. Looking between them, nervous by her little outburst, she quickly stuttered,  “I-I’m sorry, never mind.”

“Were you looking at that one?” the man asked. 

Shelley met his eye. He matched her in height, and his brown hair definitely had that  “I just got out of bed” look. Granted, she couldn’t tell if there was any product in it, and he didn’t look tired. His formerly white tee had a beautiful design of a ribcage growing flowers through the bones, once you got around the giant blood splatter covering the design. 

“No, sorry,” she said, glancing back to the knife, “Well, yeah, but it’s fine. Do you have another one, maybe?”

The owner sighed. “This display one was the last. But there’s several other similar knives if you’re still interested.”

“It’s fine,” she said, wanting to outright vanish as she scurried away. 

Shelley could feel their eyes on her back, though whether or not they were actually watching her didn’t matter. Weaving through the crowd, she made for the food carts. Stealing a small space at a table, she finally stopped to catch her breath and scold herself. 

Why the hell did she run away like a child? 

She knew the convention would be like this; interacting with people was to be expected. She’d just never been comfortable with it in larger groups like this. Smaller interactions she could handle, with just a few people. Though that was only with two other people, the crowds pressing around them elevated discomfort into near claustrophobia.

The anxiety was probably building over time, but with so much going on, she hadn’t noticed right away. She’d been hyping herself up for weeks leading up to the convention, too. Stealing a breath, there was one reassuring thought that once she was inside, she could honestly have a good time. Losing out on the knife was a blip in the day, but it wouldn’t ruin the trip. 

Her heart calmed after a few moments and, luckily, her table stayed empty, too, even after she snuck over to the pretzel stand to grab a snack. Compensation from the universe for denying her the cool knife. 

It was just a knife, too, a cool decorative piece, but it wasn’t all that important. Still, it was a beautiful blade. Maybe she could find one for the holidays. Posters were still an option today anyway, and she didn’t have to worry about future meals, hence the pretzel. 

Convincing herself that this was a perk, Shelley straightened and made for the posters, planning to head back to the motel shortly after. She still had a whole day tomorrow to check out more, plus the panels. 

Rounding a corner past a few vampires, she was facing the exit now, but she stopped again.

The young man from the weapons booth was walking past, a narrow package tucked under his arm with the blacksmith’s logo on it. He glanced around, also avoiding people who obliged, parting around the blood soaked individual without hesitation. Then he spotted her, slowed for a second, familiarity crossing his face, and gave a tiny wave. 

Unsure what to do, Shelley smiled and waved back, feeling rather foolish for just watching him. 

He smiled, too, lowering his hand now. Picking up the pace, he left the convention. 

Interaction over, Shelley gulped down another breath and made for the posters, hoping he enjoyed the knife. 

Chapter 2

The café was sweltering behind the register, and running around making a decaf mocha latte was not helping. Her phone buzzing in her pocket was just the most recent annoyance. She had forgotten to turn on ‘do not disturb’ before her shift again. 

“Here you go,” she said, smiling at the customer. “See you next time!”

The woman didn’t even register Shelley as she took her drink. She wasn’t on her phone, nor was she reading something behind her. It was just the glazed-over look, blending Shelley into the background with the drink dispensers and toaster. 

The instant the woman turned around, Shelley let the smile die and sat on the stool around the corner, rubbing her ankle. 

“You okay?” Yolanda asked. “You keep playing with your feet.”

“I’m fine,” Shelley said. “Just tired of walking so much.”

“Oh yeah! The convention, how was it?” Yolanda stopped wiping the pastry counter and leaned on it. 

Glad for the reprieve from customers for the moment, Shelley went into an excited description of the entire warehouse, plus the posters she bought. Yolanda seemed to listen intently, but then her own gaze politely glazed over. She was never into horror movies like Shelley was, but they always talked about their weekends, seeing it as catching up on a friendship. 

They officially met while working here, being hired at roughly the same time after college. They’d have a great laugh realizing they’d gone to the same college at the same time and had even been in some of the same classes, though at different times. But never officially crossed paths until now. 

They’d hit it off instantly, and Shelley was glad to have her as a close co-worker/friend. The long days would have been so much worse without her. 

Early on in the friendship, while Yolanda confessed to not liking horror much, they still bonded over other things. And it wasn’t a big deal, though Shelley could tell she was boring her. So, the topic died on her tongue. 

“Um, anyway, it—” Shelley cut herself off, well aware of her boredom. “It was fun.”

“It does sound fun. I’ve never been to a convention, but they almost sound like concert venues. Only with a bit of everything, rather than one band.”

“Yeah, kind of, with those crowds. So, how was your weekend?” she asked, getting up again to restock the pastries. 

“Bit boring, honestly.” Yolanda shrugged. “Worked on the garden, mostly. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, how’s the apartment hunting going?”

“Not great, but there’s an open house for one later today, so fingers crossed.”

They chatted for a bit, but the shrill of the door’s bell cut Yolanda off about the action movie she watched last night. 

Shelley internally groaned at the bell but plastered on the same customer service grin and headed for the register. 

“Thank you for choosing Tammy’s,” she chirped happily. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, hi!” the young man said, blinking and leaning back as if surprised. 

“Hello,” Shelley said back, wishing they’d get on with it. “So, what can I…oh wait, hi!” 

The same person from Horror Con who’d bought her knife stood on the other side of the till. This time he wasn’t dripping with blood. He laughed at the verbal stumble, and Shelley surprised herself by joining in. She’d been looking right at him for at least thirty seconds before recognizing him.

“Sorry,” she said, embarrassment sinking in. “Long day.”

“S’alright.” He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, sorry I snapped up your knife. I didn’t know you were looking at it.”

“Well, it wasn’t my knife yet. I was just too slow to snatch it myself,” she said, shrugging too. 

“It was the best one there,” he said. “Nice and sturdy, plus wicked sharp.”

“And gorgeous, with that red tint and Damascus steel.”

“Damascus?” His head tilted slightly with the question. 

“Yes, the wavy lines in the metal. Made it look almost alive,” she explained, wiggling her fingers. 

His eyes widened, remembering. “Oh yeah, didn’t know that had a name.”

Shelley caught Yolanda at the edge of her vision. She was leaning around their corner, practically at a forty-five-degree angle, staring at them with one brow raised. 

“So, where did you display it?” Shelley asked the man, trying to ignore her. “A knife like that deserves its own little wall shelf with a lamp.”

“Uh.” He scratched his neck, looking away. “It’s just in my room right now. Can’t exactly display it.”

Shelley nodded. Gran wouldn’t let her hang the sword either. 

“If you get a chance, just look up dagger displays. You’ll get a bunch of ideas,” she suggested. 

“I will,” he said, “just need to find my own place first.”

Shelley grimaced. “Apartment hunting?”

“Yup,” he nodded with the air of ‘it’s not going well’.

“Good luck. I’ve been looking for months now, too.”

“Months?!” 

She mimicked his not-impressed tone. “Yup.” 

Now he grimaced. “Everything is so damn expensive.”

“I know! I had to save up for a year just to go to the convention. Honestly, I probably should have saved it,” she admitted. 

“No, you deserve to have fun too. God forbid anyone afford a place and fun events like that now and then, plus food.” He glanced at the menu beside her then. 

“You know,” Shelley leaned forward a bit, pretending to lower her voice, “there’s a loophole where if you get a bagel with your coffee, you save a whole dollar.”

He eyed her, smirking. “That sounds like a normal combo.”

“Yeah, but ‘loop-hole’ sounds sneaky.”

He laughed again, digging out his wallet. 

“Okay, one black coffee then, plus the bagel.”

Shelley punched in the order on the till. “Any fixings on the bagel?”

“Like what?” 

“Tomatoes, lettuce, peanut butter, a little jam?”

“Hm,” he glanced to the menu again, “is there an extra charge? Gotta save that dollar.”

Shelley noted the menu board, too, knowing he saw the addition at the bottom, “Anything extra, just add fifty cents.”

“Nope,” she said, drawing his attention back. 

His smile widened. “Maybe a tomato then?”

“Sure, just a second.”

Shelley quickly poured the coffee and sliced the bagel while throwing in the extra tomato. And very much aware of Yolanda watching her. She had a hand on her hip now. 

Turning back to Knife Man, Shelley handed over his order. 

“Thank you,” he said, then hesitated but continued. “My name is Vic, by the way.”

“I’m Shelley,” she said, then paused too, not sure how to continue. “Well, I hope the rest of your day is nice.”

“Yours too, and I’ll look into knife stands. Thanks again.” He raised the coffee in a small salute, heading for the door. 

Shelley waved as he left the café, surprising herself again, but glad he waved back. 

She faced Yolanda then, hand also on her hip. Silence stretched for a moment as Yolanda glanced from her to the door, wide eyed. 

“Come on,” Shelley said defensively. “You gave a kid a free cookie yesterday.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that. Knives?!”

The moment Shelley realized it had three bedrooms, she knew this place was too expensive. Dozens of people milled about, and even with the extra space, it felt cramped. Shelley had tucked herself away in the living room corner by the balcony doors, pretending to read through the flyer. She could see the landlord pitching the place to a couple who nodded along, waiting for an opening to ask her own question about public transportation. She’d taken the bus to get here after work, but it had stopped several blocks away, and she hoped there was a closer line. 

She knew she was going to ask out of wistful hope. The flyer that her Gran had found while out for a walk advertised the place well, but the price range was outside her full-time café income. Asking at least one question seemed more polite than just ducking out immediately after walking in. Though, when they started doing open houses for rentals, she had no idea. 

Glancing to the landlord again, Shelley had a perfect view of the front door clicking open, and she straightened immediately. Vic, the Knife Man, strode in. His eyes were down, looking at the same flyer, but then took in the entrance and living room beyond. He caught sight of her almost immediately and also baulked. 

 Not really sure what to do, Shelley left the corner and met him a few strides over. 

“Hey,” Vic said with a raised eyebrow as she caught up. “Are you stalking me?”

“I was about to ask you that,” she countered, sarcasm and annoyance slipping through her words, “considering you also showed up at my job.”

Vic raised his hands in innocence. “That was purely coincidental. I was hungry.”

“I’m holding you to that, and if anything weird happens, there’s cameras outside and in my café. They’ll know it was you if I end up in a ditch.”

The man kneeling to examine the baseboard beside them stood, clearly overhearing and glancing over. He promptly whispered something to their partner next to him, and they left for one of the bedrooms. 

“I have more class than a ditch.” Vic pulled back, hand over his heart, and offence lining his brow. “I’d make a glorified spectacle of your death.”

“Yeah, sure,” Shelley said dryly, crossing her arms. “Anyway, are you looking to get the place? It’s pricey.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, waving the flyer to the room. “There’s great storage space with the huge closet by the front, and they said the kitchen was just redone?”

“Redone three years ago, but it’s still nice,” she agreed. “Plus, the neighbourhood is safe. That was a bit of a point for my Gran.”

“You live with your grandmother?”

“A not-so-long story, but yes,” she said. “Still, I couldn’t afford this place, and any studios I’ve found suck.”

“Honestly, I might not be able to afford it either, even with a full-time job.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Also, who does open houses for rentals?”

“Apparently, it’s the new norm. I’ve been to four others already, plus I made plans to see five more. Most of them are crap and overpriced.” She tried to ignore the slight dread of moving in general to sink in. “This one is at least nice inside.”

“Any plans for a roommate?” he asked. 

“Everyone I know is already settled,” she said. 

She and Gran needed to be out on bank orders by next week. And Gran was all packed and ready to head off to her new nursing home not too far from here. All of Shelley’s stuff was also packed, except for a few work clothes and Mary’s things. Yolanda had said she could crash there for a while, but she was allergic to cats, and Shelley didn’t want to impose that much. Plus, there was the slight denial of even wanting to leave her childhood home, but it had to be done. 

As much as she was scouring the city for any studio apartment in her price range, they were all either leaking something or smelled of something worse. Visiting this apartment had been a wistful idea. The only way she’d be able to afford anything even remotely nice was with a roommate. And everyone she knew either already had a setup or wasn’t looking to move. Yolanda shared a house with her father, and Chris, their other coworker, had just moved in with their partner. 

A new idea stuck in her mind like a thorn from a rosebush. It wasn’t exactly sane, but she was running out of time. 

“Hey,” she said, drawing Vic’s attention back from examining the balcony door locks. “Do you want to get some coffee and talk about a dumb idea?” 

 Chapter 3

The comforting hot chocolate scent did nothing for her nerves, and the mild caffeine in it seemed to make things worse. Given the early hour and the odd conversation to come, she hoped the chocolate would be calming. 

Forcing a few slow sips, the familiar chime of the café door had her twitching. 

Vic strode in, a hand still on the door handle, quickly scanning the room. He looked casual in his white tee with the print of an anatomical heart and black jeans. 

Shelley hoped she wasn’t overdressed, which felt odd. This wasn’t a date. Besides, her off-the-shoulders black top was the most comfortable, and that’s what she needed right now. 

It’s going to be fine. This isn’t a date, just a conversation. It probably won’t even take long, she reassured herself, raising a hand to wave him over. 

He finally caught her eye and waved back, but then raised one finger. He headed to the counter and quickly ordered something before catching up to her table. 

“Hi!” he said excitedly, taking the seat opposite. “You know, I’m glad you picked a familiar place. I don’t know the city that well yet.”

“No problem, I figured it was easy to find anyway,” she said. 

“Fair, so what did you want to talk about?” he asked. “You had an idea back at that apartment?”

“Vic?” the barista, Chris, called before Shelley could reply. 

Vic darted up and took his drink, thanking Chris and slipping them a toonie as a tip. At least he was nice to waitstaff.

“So,” Shelley started as he sat again, “it’s a crazy idea, even stupid, but how do you feel about renting that apartment together?”

He froze mid-sip but luckily didn’t choke. Blinking over the rim of the cup, he swallowed and cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry, you want to move in with a complete stranger?” He asked, setting the cup down and leaning forward like he hadn’t heard right. 

“No, I want to move in with a friend, but they all moved off or went to school in Toronto. And now my Gran and I can’t afford the house we’re in, plus she needs extra care that I can’t help with, so she’s moving into a nice retirement home. I’m kind of in a pinch,” she confessed, realizing she was gripping her own hot chocolate a little too tightly. 

“Where do you live now then?” 

“In the same house with Gran for now, but we’ve got until the first of the month to get out,” she explained, not quite surprised at her own dry tone. There was nothing either of them could do, and she was losing her childhood home. It was either sound cold and nonchalant about it, or start bawling her eyes out in public. Clearing her throat, she continued, “So in regards to moving in with a friend, where are you from? What do you do for work? And what’s your schooling like?” 

“Well,” he said, leaning back and propping a knee on the table edge, “I’m actually from Calgary. And school-wise, I’ll admit I just have a high school degree.”

“That’s fine. Do you have a job?”

“Uh…”

“Okay, if it’s a no, then this is a deal breaker. And before you hinted at a full-time job.”

“No, I do!” he insisted, raising a hand in defence. “It’s just kinda morbid.”

“I’m fine with morbid,” she said, shrugging. 

“I, um…assist at the morgue.”

“Do you embalm bodies?” she asked, glad for the distraction and letting herself relax into it a bit. 

“Kinda.” He grimaced into the word, as if expecting her to be grossed out. 

“Cool.”

“Really?” he asked, taken aback but half smiling. 

“Yeah! Hey, is it true that when bodies bloat, you need to be careful, or they’ll pop?” She let go of the hot chocolate at the ‘pop’, flicking her fingers with the motion. 

Vic paused again, watching her like she’d suddenly grown a third eye, and Shelley forced herself to stay still. Her fingers started picking at the label on her cup again. 

“Sorry, that was kinda morbid,” she muttered. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, beaming and letting his leg drop. He leaned forward again, arms crossed over the table. “That is a horribly gross image, but yes, they do.”

“Gross!”

“Yeah, blood just sprays everywhere!”

“No way.” She leaned in, matching the ghoulish excitement. 

“Like a crime scene.”

Laughter bubbled up her throat, and, thankfully, Vic joined in. He sounded relaxed, too, even a little relieved. 

“Okay,” he said, trying to control the giggles. “Let me ask you something.”

“Shoot,” she said, actually enjoying the hot chocolate now. Chris always knew how much cream to add without overdoing it. 

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

Shelley snickered, but he didn’t join this time. He watched her again, outright studying her.

“No,” she said, putting down her cup, a little disconcerted. “Of course not, have you?”

“No.” He shook his head, grinning again. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t some serial killer.”

“Oh, ha! No, you’re fine there. Besides, serial killers are hardly ever women.”

“It’s not impossible,” he countered, pointing to her over his cup as he drank. 

“True. But no, you’re safe from me. Also, I should probably ask you that. And you’re not some kind of creep, are you? Because the moment anything weird happens, I am gone.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, though I understand the caution,” he said, leaning back again. “I’ve never been interested.”

“Really?” Shelley asked. “Are you aromantic or ace?” 

“Probably aromantic? I was just never interested in anyone that way. There’s no…I don’t know, drive there?” 

“I’m ace, too,” Shelley said. “Okay, new question.”

Vic snickered. “You know, I think this is what speed dating is supposed to be like.”

“Minus the dating,” she said, chuckling. “I remember back in high school, a boy was being weirdly too insistent, saying that ‘he could awaken it,’ and I had to tell him to piss off.”

Vic narrowed his eyes at that. “You don’t seem like the type to tell people to piss off.”

“You don’t know that,” she defended, straightening her spine. 

“Back at the convention, you couldn’t interrupt the vendor when I was talking to him. You’re a shy one but energetic. I’m guessing more comfortable in smaller crowds?” 

Shelley didn’t know how to feel about the quick jab at her character, though it wasn’t wrong. 

“Energetic in some cases,” she added. “And you seem to be at least kind to the waitstaff and open to strange conversations like this one.”

“I like talking to people.” He shrugged. “So, what was that question before I so rudely interrupted?”

Shelley leaned over her cup, really making Vic watch her again. He leaned forward, too, like an excited puppy. 

“What’s your take on cats and horror movies?” she asked. 

Like it? The full novella is available here!