Things That Creak

When I came upon this subject while sitting on the balcony at 8pm in early November, the dog in the condo across the courtyard, a Poodle-doodle, or Labro-doodle, I'm not sure which, was barking at who knows what. Perhaps, it was the wind rustling through the 80 foot pine trees, or the 60 foot white cedar trees, or the olive trees, for that matter.

But in between the sound of the rustling wind and the dog barking, I could hear someone approaching up the walkway. I could hear keys jingling, or plastic bags catching the wind. I sat quietly, didn't move an inch, and waited to see what the dog was really barking at. It was a young man carrying bags of belongings and chatting to himself. Naturally, I assumed it was a cell phone call, or singing to the music coming from headphones. And then the sound of another person. He passed by and disappeared into the darkness. But still, the sound of something or someone else came from the direction of cars parked in guest parking. Between the balcony and the parked cars stood the pine trees and olive trees with desert landscaping and loose red stones covering both side of the walkway and a large area beneath the pine trees.

There's the sound of an Alfred Hitchcock soundtrack leading, us toward an unfortunate turn of events that are completely out of our control. And all the while, asking ourselves, "What would I do in this situation?" And all the while questioning our mettle, only to discover we do or do not have the coping skills Hitchcock demands from his audiences, with a symphonic orgy accompanied by unavoidable sights. As events unfold, Hitchcock careens us downward past the reflective windows of a New York skyscraper, rushing toward black pavement, ending in an inescapable crescendo of classic, "Fade to black."