Under the Rug - Chevy

Under the Rug

Mr Phillips was working, well he was supposed to be.  His briefcase lay open at his feet papers scattered everywhere, covering the carpet, sofa and coffee table.  A lamp with a dying bulb sat on a small table in the corner, its flickering light casting a dying glow across the room.

He was not working though, he was snoring.  The papers piled around him, his chest rising and falling gently with the rhythm of his  breathing then the lamp rattled.

Mr Phillip jolted awake, looking around for the source of the commotion. His eyes fell on the lamp the pull-chain still swinging to and fro then his eyes traveled downward.

A small lump rose from the floor, covered by the carpet. He rubbed his eyes trying to decide if it was a trick of the failing light or something real and touchable.

Unable to figure it out, he slowly rose off the couch, shedding papers like a dog. Edging forward, he kept his eyes on the lamp.  Just then it felt like a second face had shown and had freaked him out as it was blur.

After staring at it for a long while, he  shook his head sure it was only a hallucination he stepped behind  the couch, only to stop suddenly as the lamp rattled again the light flickered and died, the bulb finally using its last life.

As much as he was very terrified he really wanted to make the object go away, he couldn’t help it only to be even more terrified.  Mr Phillips sought out a spare bulb.  He unscrewed the old one and stuck the new one in its place, whining as the harsh new light burned his eyes. He looked under the table and the lump was gone.