guest appearance writing

B8A has the pleasure of introducing a guest writer today.

Helmut

By Beata Kuzminska

It all started when I heard a knock at my front door. It was about 11 pm. I didn't expect anybody. I had to think a few minutes: open the door or not? The knocking didn't stop. At last I decided to open the door. At the door stood a very strange person, a creature. He wasn't tall, he had big green eyes, blue hair and was wearing strange clothes. He wore woollen yellow jeans and a blue jacket, he had a hat on his head. He looked scary and he was completely wet. I was standing there looing at him when he said, "Good evening, could I have something warm to drink and dry my clothes?"
"Yes," I said, completely surprised and closed the door.
The strange creature sat on my sofa and started looking around my house. He was as small as a child but he looked like an adult person. When he was sitting on the sofa his legs didn't touch the floor. I went to the kitchen and I started to prepare a tea for my guest. I waited for the hot water and I was thinking all the time, "who was he? What was he doing in the city? What did he want? Why did I open my door to him? What was he doing now while I'm making him his tea? Is he still in my living room? Maybe he left?"
The water boiled. I took a cup and came back to my living room. The strange person was still there.
"This is for you. Your hot tea," I said.
"Thank you."
"I'll let you drink and I'll look for something you can wear," I said.
"You are very kind. Thank you. I didn't tell you my name. I'm sorry. I'm Helmut."
"Nice to meet you. My name is Pola," I said.
Helmut offered his hand. I shook it. His hand was small and cold, too cold, like the hand of a dead man.
I left Helmut again. In this time I went looking for something he could wear. I didn't have any children so I didn't have little clothes but I found a t-shirt belonging to my younger sister. When I came back to the living room with the t-shirt in my hand Helmut was sleeping on the sofa. I'll not wake him up, I thought, so I brought a plaid blanket and covert my guest. For a moment I thought whether to go to bed, at last I decided to go.
The next morning I went quickly to the living room but Helmut wasn't there. The t-shirt and the plaid blanket lay on the sofa. The front door was closed. I started looking for Helmut in other parts of my house but he was nowhere. He should have written some words of goodbye, I thought, but at once I understood that it was stupid because didn't know if helmut can write. Maybe it was my dream, maybe Helmut didn't exist. I didn't meet Helmut again and to this day I don't know if it really happened or if it was only in my dreams.

The End.