mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
More releases, update a few stories at authors' requests
This commit is contained in:
parent
395d036f19
commit
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20
horrors2.ltx
20
horrors2.ltx
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@ -113,14 +113,14 @@ and/or blood. Stay strong, pukers.
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%\include{stories/KryonikMessiah.The_Ninjas}
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\include{stories/IShallRiseAgain.The_School}
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\include{stories/Paracetamol_Boy.The_Smile}
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%\include{stories/ack_.The_Dock}
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\include{stories/ack_.The_Dock}
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\include{stories/rinski.The_Mansio}
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\include{stories/Syphilicious_.What_Lurks}
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%\include{stories/Rummanging.Nebulous_C}
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\include{stories/antiloquax.The_Unexpe}
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\include{stories/benitocereno.The_Beginn}
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%\include{stories/A_Child_s_Letter.Yellow_Eye}
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%\include{stories/Decatur_Fist.The_Last_N}
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\include{stories/Decatur_Fist.The_Last_N}
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%\include{stories/Brolita.Mac}
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\include{stories/nmg.The_Horrid}
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\include{stories/Ghost_Hat.Invisible_}
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@ -131,24 +131,24 @@ and/or blood. Stay strong, pukers.
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%\include{stories/TheElectronicOne.In_the_Mir}
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\include{stories/WhereTheFishLives.The_Horrid}
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\include{stories/on_time_for_once.The_Playgr}
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%\include{stories/overnightmike.The_Explod}
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\include{stories/overnightmike.The_Explod}
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\part{You're no Hakan}
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\include{stories/Part_of_Everything.The_Death_}
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%\include{stories/Madcosby.Son_Of_Bav}
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\include{stories/Madcosby.Son_Of_Bav}
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\include{stories/Dr_Scoofles.The_Long_F}
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%\include{stories/Peas_and_Rice.The_King}
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\include{stories/reasonable_form.The_Six_Si}
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%\include{stories/Smeef.The_Old_Ch}
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%\include{stories/jidohanbaiki.The_Ocean}
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\include{stories/Knuc_If_U_Buck.The_Horrif}
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%\include{stories/henpod.The_Last_C}
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%\include{stories/Mortonic.The_Very_H}
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\include{stories/henpod.The_Last_C}
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\include{stories/Mortonic.The_Very_H}
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%\include{stories/Oatgan.The_Scream}
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\include{stories/Lynxifer.The_Orches}
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%\include{stories/Cheesus_Christ.The_Horrid}
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%\include{stories/brylcreem.The_Creatu}
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%\include{stories/taurapo.The_Child}
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\include{stories/Cheesus_Christ.The_Horrid}
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\include{stories/brylcreem.The_Creatu}
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\include{stories/taurapo.The_Child}
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\include{stories/Assless_Chaps.The_Mosqui}
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\include{stories/Sirocco.The_Monste}
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\include{stories/Cota_Froise.The_Horrid}
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@ -182,7 +182,7 @@ and/or blood. Stay strong, pukers.
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\include{stories/JohnnyThreeToes.Horrid_Tra}
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\include{stories/King_Plum_the_Nth.Flow_My_Te}
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\include{stories/Yogi_Byron.Horror_D_o}
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%\include{stories/Funk_In_Shoe.I_am___bf_}
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\include{stories/Funk_In_Shoe.I_am___bf_}
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%\include{stories/Zarimus.Little_Men}
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\include{stories/CannedMacabre.For_the_Ch}
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\include{stories/Ridgely__Fan.The_Cocoon}
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@ -2,445 +2,326 @@
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\by{Syphilicious!}
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Thursday night, and everything is quiet. Unusual for me, but in my
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current settings it should be expected; instead of walking my beat
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in the thug-infested alleys of our dear city, I am far out in the
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country, at Old Woman McCannshire's place, engaged in a staring
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contest with the termites that crawl in and out of the floor of her
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porch as I wait for her to answer the door. The middle of nowhere
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does not properly describe my location; I'd been driving so long
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that I'm probably already halfway out. My name is Luke Bavarius,
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and I'm a detective, but tonight I appear to be the guy that drives
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around checking under old biddies' beds for monsters.
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current settings it should be expected; instead of walking my beat in
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the thug-infested alleys of our dear city, I am far out in the country,
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at Old Woman McCannshire's place, engaged in a staring contest with the
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termites that crawl in and out of the floor of her porch as I wait for
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her to answer the door. The middle of nowhere does not properly describe
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my location; I'd been driving so long that I'm probably already halfway
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out. My name is Luke Bavarius, and I'm a detective, but tonight I appear
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to be the guy that drives around checking under old biddies' beds for
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monsters.
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Even the pranks get men sent out these days. A prank is what I would
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have thought this would be if I didn't know the old woman calling was
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too addled to even have a teenager's sense of humor. McCannshire thinks
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her house is haunted by spirits, and wants one of us ``wonderful young
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men you have working down there'' to come check it out. I'm almost glad I
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forgot to bring my spare ammunition for my Beretta out here; I've used
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that thing enough today considering my nerves are just about as shot as
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those three bank robbers, and if this goose chase got any more boring
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I'd probably put it in my mouth and make brain gumbo.
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The unlatching of bolts awakens me from my reverie, and my head snaps
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back up into the proper position. ``You win this time, termites,'' I
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mutter, wiping a thin string of drool from my chin. Slowly, the door
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creaks open, and I am treated to the sight of Mrs. McCannshire in a
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wispy white nightgown. Perhaps in the prime of her youth this might have
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been something I could have tolerated or even enjoyed, but the broad has
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long been in her more tender years of age, her face has more wrinkles
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than the wandering Jew's underwear, and her nightgown is greasy with the
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mysterious secretions of the elderly. I try to focus on the mangy grey
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poodle she cradles in one arm, a dirty little mutt that she probably
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pampers like nobody's business. She really fits the picture of an old
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bag of bones, and as soon as she opens her mouth I can tell how far gone
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she really she is.
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Even the pranks get men sent out these days. A prank is what I
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would have thought this would be, if I didn't know the old woman
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calling was too addled to even have a teenager's sense of humor.
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McCannshire thinks her house is haunted by spirits, and wants one
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of us ``wonderful young men you have working down there'' to come
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check it out. I'm almost glad I forgot to bring my spare ammunition
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for my Beretta out here; I've used that thing enough today
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considering my nerves are just about as shot as those three bank
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robbers, and if this goose chase got any more boring I'd probably
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put it in my mouth and make brain gumbo.
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``Are you the detective Officer Dent sent over to help with the spirits
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in my house?'' She speaks slowly and clearly, her eyes twin moons of
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gawkish innocence. I don't know which kind of dementia would be worse:
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the flavor Mrs. McCannshire possesses where one is magically returned to
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the age of nine or the other one where you think the walls are talking
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to you. Although, considering why I was here, it's possible she suffered
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from the latter too.
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``Uh\ldots yes. Yes, ma'am. Officer Dent is my, uh, superior.'' I step past
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her and walk inside, trying to ignore the subdued growl the mutt in her
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hands has started up upon sight of me. The place is clean to a point;
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there are numerous tables and shelves bedecked with pictures and family
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heirlooms, all meticulously dusted, but the carpet is smeared with dirty
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pawprints and general dust and filth, it's frayed and ragged material
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likely not blessed by the gentle touch of a vaccuum cleaner for
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years. The carpet and walls are an ugly matching beige and all the
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miscellaneous objects, despite constant care, have lost their
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luster. The only sign of real color comes from the bathroom behind the
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door opposite the one I had come in, wherein an even more hideous bright
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lime green covers the small amount of wall I can see around the door.
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I turn to face her, reaching into the folds of my trenchcoat and drawing
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out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. ``Now, what seems to be the
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problem here?'' A lazy puff of smoke floats serenely past my raised
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eyebrow from my now lit cigarette.
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The unlatching of bolts awakens me from my reverie, and my head
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snaps back up into the proper position. ``You win this time,
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termites,'' I mutter, wiping a thin string of drool from my chin.
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Slowly, the door creaks open, and I am treated to the sight of Mrs.
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McCannshire in a wispy white nightgown. Perhaps in the prime of her
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youth this might have been something I could have tolerated or even
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enjoyed, but the broad has long been in her more tender years of
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age, her face has more wrinkles than the wandering Jew's underwear,
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and her nightgown is greasy with the mysterious secretions of the
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elderly. I try to focus on the mangy grey poodle she cradles in one
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arm, a dirty little mutt that she probably pampers like nobody's
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business. She really fits the picture of an old bag of bones, and
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as soon as she opens her mouth I can tell how far gone she really
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she is.
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``Are you the detective Officer Dent sent over to help with the
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spirits in my house?'' She speaks slowly and clearly, her eyes twin
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moons of gawkish innocence. I don't know which kind of dementia
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would be worse: the flavor Mrs. McCannshire possesses where one is
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magically returned to the age of nine or the other one where you
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think the walls are talking to you. Although, considering why I was
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here, it's possible she suffered from the latter too.
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``Uh{\ldots}yes. Yes, ma'am. Officer Dent is my, uh, superior.'' I stepped
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past her and walked inside, trying to ignore the subdued growl the
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mutt in her hands had started up upon sight of me. The place was
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clean to a point; there were numerous tables and shelves bedecked
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with pictures and family heirlooms, all meticulously dusted, but
|
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the carpet was smeared with dirty pawprints and general dust and
|
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filth, it's frayed and ragged material likely not blessed by the
|
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gentle touch of a vaccuum cleaner for years. The carpet and walls
|
||||
were an ugly matching beige and all the miscellaneous objects,
|
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despite constant care, had lost their luster. The only sign of real
|
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color came from the bathroom behind the door opposite the one I had
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come in, wherein an even more hideous bright lime green covered the
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small amount of wall I could see around the door.
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I turned to face her, reaching into the folds of my trenchcoat and
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drawing out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. ``Now, what seems
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to be the problem here?'' A lazy puff of smoke floated serenely past
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my raised eyebrow from my now lit cigarette.
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``Well,'' she said, setting the dog down onto the carpet where it did
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an annoying little dance around our legs, barking and whining,
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``I've been noticing things for several days now, but only this
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morning did it get really bad. You see, every time I use the
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bathroom I feel someone is watching me.''
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``Well,'' she says, setting the dog down onto the carpet where it does an
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annoying little dance around our legs, barking and whining, ``I've been
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noticing things for several days now, but only this morning did it get
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really bad. You see, every time I use the bathroom I feel someone is
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watching me.''
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``How can you tell?''
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``Well, at first it was just an uneasy feeling. But then I started
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hearing voices that would say things that I couldn't make out. Then
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I started seeing faces out of the corner of my eye or in a
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reflection. And this is happening quite often, mind you. It's
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happened every time I go in there, and these days I tend to{\ldots}oh,
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how should I say it{\ldots}do my business more often, mostly because
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my--''
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``I understand, I understand,'' I said hurriedly. ``Please,
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continue.''
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``Well, uh, this morning, I saw a face in the mirror behind me. And
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I didn't just see it, either; it was directly behind me, an entire
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person, and he didn't go away until I turned round.''
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hearing voices that would say things that I couldn't make out. Then I
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started seeing faces out of the corner of my eye or in a reflection. And
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this is happening quite often, mind you. It's happened every time I go
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in there, and these days I tend to\ldots oh, how should I say it\ldots
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do my business more often, mostly because my--''
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``I understand, I understand,'' I say hurriedly. ``Please, continue.''
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``Well, uh, this morning, I saw a face in the mirror behind me. And I
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didn't just see it, either; it was directly behind me, an entire person,
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and he didn't go away until I turned round.''
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My eyebrow, which had just started to head home for the day, turned
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right back around and marched up my forehead. This sounded
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legitimately interesting. Whatever had actually happened, seeing a
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person plain as day was a lot better than imaginary sounds or
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tricks of light that even happened to people who weren't sitting
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outside Death's doorstep in motorized wheelchairs. There was really
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only one thing to do.
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``Well, I guess you'll have to show me the bathroom then, Mrs.
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McCannshire.''
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``Right you are, dear.'' She seems to notice that my gaze had strayed
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to the pictures on the small table next to the front door, and as
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she hobbles past me towards the bathroom she begins to talk about
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her dead husband. Half listening to her talk about the dangers of
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late term prostate cancer and wincing at the intimate descriptions
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she gives of the times she went with him for his checkups, I search
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for an ashtray and find one nestled in between boxes of tissue and
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stack of gardening books. I rub the flame out and leave the stub,
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resolving not to smoke any more until I leave the house. The old
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woman doesn't need all that smoke.
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right back around and marched up my forehead. This sounded legitimately
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interesting. Whatever had actually happened, seeing a person plain as
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day is a lot better than imaginary sounds or tricks of light that even
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happened to people who weren't sitting outside Death's doorstep in
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motorized wheelchairs. There is really only one thing to do.
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``Well, I guess you'll have to show me the bathroom then,
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Mrs. McCannshire.''
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``Right you are, dear.'' She seems to notice that my gaze has strayed to
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the pictures on the small table next to the front door, and as she
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hobbles past me towards the bathroom she begins to talk about her dead
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husband. Half listening to her talk about the dangers of late term
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prostate cancer and wincing at the intimate descriptions she gives of
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the times she went with him for his checkups, I search for an ashtray
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and find one nestled in between boxes of tissue and stack of gardening
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books. I rub the flame out and leave the stub, resolving not to smoke
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any more until I leave the house. The old woman doesn't need all that
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smoke.
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As I join her in the bathroom, I see that her poodle has the same
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idea. It flies past me and sits whining at her feet until she
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relents and picks it up again. I stand next to her and look around
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the room. The mirror is old but clean, and the porcelain throne in
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the corner is the same. I look into the sink, and from the short,
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curly gray hairs lining the rim I deduce that she washes the dog in
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it; either that or she's more up on the trends of women of today
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than you'd think of a gal her age.
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idea. It flies past me and sits whining at her feet until she relents
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and picks it up again. I stand next to her and look around the room. The
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mirror is old but clean, and the porcelain throne in the corner is the
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same. I look into the sink, and from the short, curly gray hairs lining
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the rim I deduce that she washes the dog in it; either that or she's
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more up on the trends of women of today than you'd think of a gal her
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age.
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The horror of the thought further distracts me, and I begin to develop
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that thousand yard stare as she tells me about the various scary
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encounters she has experienced while voiding her bowels, unnecessarily
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clueing me in on the second part in her stories too. Technically I am
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looking at the hot water handle, but I am miles away, back on a real
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cop's beat or in the arms of a good woman, whichever one does a better
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job of distracting me from her current tale of a mysterious voice
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whispering in what she thinks is Latin and the effects of the creamed
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corn she had with lunch two days ago. Suddenly I spy in the reflection
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from the mirror that the dog has the same idea. The yappy little thing
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now sits silent and unmoving in her arms, staring intently into the eyes
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of its reflection.
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At first I am grateful for the relative silence that its new object of
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interest has provided, but after a minute it begins to make my skin go
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all goosey. I've never seen a dog sit that still for anything. I slowly
|
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move my hand in front of its face, nodding to show Mrs. McCannshire I am
|
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listening at a pause in her latest story involving the cupboard swinging
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open and almost hitting her in the head and how the fright really helped
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``loosen things, down there''. I pass my hand back in forth in front of
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the dog's vision to no effect. In a moment of clarity I drudge up the
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dog's name out of its owner's ramblings.
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|
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The horror of the thought further distracts me, and I begin to
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develop that thousand yard stare as she tells me about the various
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scary encounters she has experienced while voiding her bowels,
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unnecessarily clueing me in on the second part in her stories too.
|
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Technically I am looking at the hot water handle, but I am miles
|
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away, back on a real cop's beat or in the arms of a good woman,
|
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whichever one does a better job of distracting me from her current
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tale of a mysterious voice whispering in what she thinks is Latin
|
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and the effects of the creamed corn she had with lunch two days
|
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ago. Suddenly I spy in the reflection from the mirror that the dog
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has the same idea. The yappy little thing now sits silent and
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unmoving in her arms, staring intently into the eyes of its
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reflection.
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At first I am grateful for the relative silence that its new object
|
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of interest has provided, but after a minute it begins to make my
|
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skin go all goosey. I've never seen a dog sit that still for
|
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anything. I slowly move my hand in front of its face, nodding to
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show Mrs. McCannshire I am listening at a pause in her latest story
|
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involving the cupboard swinging open and almost hitting her in the
|
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head and how the fright really helped ``loosen things, down there''.
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I pass my hand back in forth in front of the dog's vision to no
|
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effect. In a moment of clarity I drudge up the dog's name out of
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its owner's ramblings.
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``Jasper! Hey, Jasper!'' At once the dog is a flurry of motion,
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leaping out of her hands and latching onto the watch around my
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wrist with its teeth. I stumble backwards into the main room and
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fall to the floor, frantically batting at the hideous ball of fur
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as it growls like a recently castrated bear. Instinct takes over;
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my mind recognizes when I am in a fight for my life even when the
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opponent is a 15-pound owl pellet. Without thinking I wrap the palm
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of the hand it grips around its head and bash it repeatedly against
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the edge of a bookshelf next to me, then stagger to my feet and
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swing it around the room, screaming to match its rabid cries. All
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of a sudden it flies free with a high pitched yelp and collides
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with the table on which the ashtray rested and the table and its
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contents tumble to the ground.
|
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|
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|
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``Jasper! Hey, Jasper!'' At once the dog is a flurry of motion, leaping
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out of her hands and latching onto the watch around my wrist with its
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teeth. I stumble backwards into the main room and fall to the floor,
|
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frantically batting at the hideous ball of fur as it growls like a
|
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recently castrated bear. Instinct takes over; my mind recognizes when I
|
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am in a fight for my life even when the opponent is a 15-pound owl
|
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pellet. Without thinking I wrap the palm of the hand it grips around its
|
||||
head and bash it repeatedly against the edge of a bookshelf next to me,
|
||||
then stagger to my feet and swing it around the room, screaming to match
|
||||
its rabid cries. All of a sudden it flies free with a high pitched yelp
|
||||
and collides with the table on which the ashtray rested and the table
|
||||
and its contents tumble to the ground.
|
||||
|
||||
I approach cautiously, waiting for my opponent to make some sign of
|
||||
life. At once the small pile of picture frames and knicknacks
|
||||
erupts as Jasper flies straight towards my face.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
life. At once the small pile of picture frames and knicknacks erupts as
|
||||
Jasper flies straight towards my face.
|
||||
|
||||
I have anticipated it; it passes fruitlessly over my head as I lean
|
||||
backwards almost parallel to the floor, and I hear its frenzied
|
||||
growling suddenly muffled. I push my spine back into place with one
|
||||
hand and spin around only to see Jasper hanging from the ledge of a
|
||||
desk, his jaw wrapped around it and his teeth grinding into it as
|
||||
if he imagined it to be my arm. I act quickly, sparing no mercy.
|
||||
With several steps I come upon the helpless creature and I lift a
|
||||
booted foot to hover a foot away from the back of its skull.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
backwards almost parallel to the floor, and I hear its frenzied growling
|
||||
suddenly muffled. I push my spine back into place with one hand and spin
|
||||
around only to see Jasper hanging from the ledge of a desk, his jaw
|
||||
wrapped around it and his teeth grinding into it as if he imagined it to
|
||||
be my arm. I act quickly, sparing no mercy. With several steps I come
|
||||
upon the helpless creature and I lift a booted foot to hover a foot away
|
||||
from the back of its skull.
|
||||
|
||||
``Chew on this, pooch.''
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
There is a loud, wet crack as its skull explodes like a balloon
|
||||
filled with bones and blood. It's corpse falls silently to the
|
||||
floor, followed by the lower half of his jaw and head. The top half
|
||||
rests on top of the desk, firmly embedded into the wood. I curse
|
||||
silently to myself and wipe my foot off on the carpet, leaving
|
||||
behind a red smear flecked with hair and bits of bone.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
There is a loud, wet crack as its skull explodes like a balloon filled
|
||||
with bones and blood. It's corpse falls silently to the floor, followed
|
||||
by the lower half of his jaw and head. The top half rests on top of the
|
||||
desk, firmly embedded into the wood. I curse silently to myself and wipe
|
||||
my foot off on the carpet, leaving behind a red smear flecked with hair
|
||||
and bits of bone.
|
||||
|
||||
All at once I come to my senses, and I turn to see Mrs. McCannshire
|
||||
standing at the bathroom door. For a second we both stand staring
|
||||
wordlessly at each other, then she utters a soft cry and flees back
|
||||
into the bathroom. I hear a soft click as she locks the door behind
|
||||
her.
|
||||
wordlessly at each other, then she utters a soft cry and flees back into
|
||||
the bathroom. I hear a soft click as she locks the door behind her.
|
||||
|
||||
I sigh and walk over, knocking on the door. ``Mrs. McCannshire, I'm sorry
|
||||
about Jasper, okay? I shouldn't have\ldots done that, but he was, I mean he
|
||||
was attacking me. There was nothing else I could do.''
|
||||
|
||||
I continued to apologize while I listened to her sobs, trying to look
|
||||
anywhere but back at that head, or that part of it, those sightless eyes
|
||||
silently judging me. I've killed people before in my line of work, and I
|
||||
see their faces when I close my eyes, but now this mutt was getting to
|
||||
me more than any of them ever did. It was an irritable little thing, but
|
||||
why did it up and attack me like that? What did it see in that mirror?
|
||||
|
||||
I sigh and walk over, knocking on the door. ``Mrs. McCannshire, I'm
|
||||
sorry about Jasper, okay? I shouldn't have{\ldots}done that, but he was,
|
||||
I mean he was attacking me. There was nothing else I could
|
||||
do.''
|
||||
I notice that the crying on the other side of the door has stopped, and
|
||||
for a moment I feel relief. ``Mrs. McCannshire, if you can just come out
|
||||
here we can talk about this. Again, I'm sorry about your dog, but--''
|
||||
|
||||
I am interrupted by the click of the lock, and as the door slowly comes
|
||||
ajar I help her open it. She stands there, head down, and she looks so
|
||||
depressed that I can't help but resume my apologies. ``If there's
|
||||
anything I can do to pay you back for what I did, you name it. I really
|
||||
can't tell you how sorry I am, I'll get you a new dog, whatever you
|
||||
want. I'm sure I\ldots{}''
|
||||
|
||||
The look in her eyes when she raises her head is different than what
|
||||
you'd think a hysterical old woman would have. They're more intelligent
|
||||
than they were before, those eyes, and they seem to possess more menace
|
||||
than I assume an old lady like that would be able to muster.
|
||||
|
||||
I continued to apologize while I listened to her sobs, trying to
|
||||
look anywhere but back at that head, or that part of it, those
|
||||
sightless eyes silently judging me. I've killed people before in my
|
||||
line of work, and I see their faces when I close my eyes, but now
|
||||
this mutt was getting to me more than any of them ever did. It was
|
||||
an irritable little thing, but why did it up and attack me like
|
||||
that? What did it see in that mirror?
|
||||
One bony hand wraps around my throat with otherworldy strength, choking
|
||||
off the rest of the sentence. She lifts me off my feet, pulls back, and
|
||||
for a brief moment everything is serene.
|
||||
|
||||
Then I hit the wall. I slide down next to the open front door, and after
|
||||
my eyes uncross and the black in front of my eyes goes away I use the
|
||||
knob to pull myself up. I check for broken bones and don't find good
|
||||
news in the ribs area, but other than that I am fine, if bruised.
|
||||
|
||||
``Well, you've got a good arm, I have to give you that.'' I think over my
|
||||
options, running my tongue over my teeth. I can't hurt her; she's
|
||||
obviously just possessed by whateve possessed that dog in the mirror. I
|
||||
have to get the spirit out of her, or incapacitate her, but I don't know
|
||||
how to perform exorcisms and at her age a gust of wind could kill
|
||||
her. Although if she's able to throw like that maybe she's a lot
|
||||
stronger in other ways too. What if I tied her up?
|
||||
|
||||
I notice that the crying on the other side of the door has stopped,
|
||||
and for a moment I feel relief. ``Mrs. McCannshire, if you can just
|
||||
come out here we can talk about this. Again, I'm sorry about your
|
||||
dog, but--''
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I am interrupted by the click of the lock, and as the door slowly
|
||||
comes ajar I help her open it. She stands there, head down, and she
|
||||
looks so depressed that I can't help but resume my apologies. ``If
|
||||
there's anything I can do to pay you back for what I did, you name
|
||||
it. I really can't tell you how sorry I am, I'll get you a new dog,
|
||||
whatever you want. I'm sure I{\ldots}could{\ldots}uh{\ldots}''
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The look in her eyes when she raises her head is different than
|
||||
what you'd think a hysterical old woman would have. They're more
|
||||
intelligent than they were before, those eyes, and they seem to
|
||||
possess more menace than I assume an old lady like that would be
|
||||
able to muster.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
One bony hand wraps around my throat with otherworldy strength,
|
||||
choking off the rest of the sentence. She lifts me off my feet,
|
||||
pulls back, and for a brief moment everything is serene.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Then I hit the wall. I slide down next to the open front door, and
|
||||
after my eyes uncross and the black in front of my eyes goes away I
|
||||
use the knob to pull myself up. I check for broken bones and don't
|
||||
find good news in the ribs area, but other than that I am fine, if
|
||||
bruised.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
``Well, you've got a good arm, I have to give you that.'' I think
|
||||
over my options, running my tongue over my teeth. I can't hurt her;
|
||||
she's obviously just possessed by whateve possessed that dog in the
|
||||
mirror. I have to get the spirit out of her, or incapacitate her,
|
||||
but I don't know how to perform exorcisms and at her age a gust of
|
||||
wind could kill her. Although if she's able to throw like that
|
||||
maybe she's a lot stronger in other ways too. What if I tied her
|
||||
up?
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Something makes my train of thought come to a screeching halt. It
|
||||
hasn't reached the station, it's gone straight off the tracks.
|
||||
There were no survivors.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
My brain is recieving messages my tongue shouldn't be sending. It's
|
||||
not finding something that should be there. I grab a polished
|
||||
silver cup off a table and flash my teeth at my reflection. There's
|
||||
a black square where there should be a nice little white one.
|
||||
|
||||
Something makes my train of thought come to a screeching halt. It hasn't
|
||||
reached the station, it's gone straight off the tracks. There were no
|
||||
survivors.
|
||||
|
||||
My brain is recieving messages my tongue shouldn't be sending. It's not
|
||||
finding something that should be there. I grab a polished silver cup off
|
||||
a table and flash my teeth at my reflection. There's a black square
|
||||
where there should be a nice little white one.
|
||||
|
||||
I've lost a tooth.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
This bitch is going to die.
|
||||
|
||||
I toss the cup and pull my piece, my finger already on the
|
||||
trigger. Worse men talk about how their guns sing songs that only ever
|
||||
have a few notes; that's played out, and anyway my Beretta never saw the
|
||||
appeal in singing. It yells, and it only ever needs to raise its voice
|
||||
once to win an argument with someone.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I toss the cup and pull my piece, my finger already on the trigger.
|
||||
Worse men talk about how their guns sing songs that only ever have
|
||||
a few notes; that's played out, and anyway my Beretta never saw the
|
||||
appeal in singing. It yells, and it only ever needs to raise its
|
||||
voice once to win an argument with someone.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
As I aim down the sights at the old girl now barrelling towards me
|
||||
from accross the room with a horrifying screech, I recall something
|
||||
about not having ammunition, and I anticipate the empty little
|
||||
click. Cursing wildly, I hurl the gun at her, and it bounces off
|
||||
her forehead ineffectively. I reach for the knife strapped to my
|
||||
leg down at my ankle, but it is too late; she knocks it out of my
|
||||
hand with one swift strike just as I am bringing it up and it
|
||||
clatters against the wall. She slams me up against the same patch
|
||||
of wall that I'd said hello to twenty seconds ago and holds me at
|
||||
arm's length against the wall, my head more than two feet higher
|
||||
than hers and my feet off the ground clattering against the wall.
|
||||
Both hands are wrapped around my neck and I am rapidly losing
|
||||
oxygen. You need to do something now, I think. Or you're done,
|
||||
As I aim down the sights at the old girl now barrelling towards me from
|
||||
accross the room with a horrifying screech, I recall something about not
|
||||
having ammunition, and I anticipate the empty little click. Cursing
|
||||
wildly, I hurl the gun at her, and it bounces off her forehead
|
||||
ineffectively. I reach for the knife strapped to my leg down at my
|
||||
ankle, but it is too late; she knocks it out of my hand with one swift
|
||||
strike just as I am bringing it up and it clatters against the wall. She
|
||||
slams me up against the same patch of wall that I'd said hello to twenty
|
||||
seconds ago and holds me at arm's length against the wall, my head more
|
||||
than two feet higher than hers and my feet off the ground clattering
|
||||
against the wall. Both hands are wrapped around my neck and I am rapidly
|
||||
losing oxygen. You need to do something now, I think. Or you're done,
|
||||
Luke. You're done.
|
||||
|
||||
Frantically my hands search for something, anything, to fight her off
|
||||
with, finding nothing. I'm simply too far off the ground to reach
|
||||
anything. I turn my head as much as her steel fingers allow, and through
|
||||
my darkening vision I can barely see an umbrella stand with one large
|
||||
black umbrella in it. In vain I stretch my left hand towards the handle,
|
||||
my fingers finding air and then brushing the handle. I strain as hard as
|
||||
I can as the pain advances and my sight blackens, and suddenly I have a
|
||||
grip, I grasp it with the very tips of my fingers, bring it up to my
|
||||
hand. She is laughing now, piercing and mocking, delighting in her
|
||||
triumph. She doesn't keep it up for long. I raise the umbrella high
|
||||
above my head then stab it down into her open mouth and throat, pushing
|
||||
it into her esophagus as she spits and gurgles, her hands clutching even
|
||||
tighter at my neck. The handle is just past her teeth, my hand gripping
|
||||
it firmly even as she bites into my wrist. I use my thumb to find the
|
||||
release and push it up.
|
||||
|
||||
The umbrella is spring operated, the fabric edged with sharp metal. Her
|
||||
neck evaporates in a cloud of blood and her head shoots up into the
|
||||
hair, twirling in the air like a basketball and falling to the ground
|
||||
with I and the rest of her body.
|
||||
|
||||
Frantically my hands search for something, anything, to fight her
|
||||
off with, finding nothing. I'm simply too far off the ground to
|
||||
reach anything. I turn my head as much as her steel fingers allow,
|
||||
and through my darkening vision I can barely see an umbrella stand
|
||||
with one large black umbrella in it. In vain I stretch my left hand
|
||||
towards the handle, my fingers finding air and then brushing the
|
||||
handle. I strain as hard as I can as the pain advances and my sight
|
||||
blackens, and suddenly I have a grip, I grasp it with the very tips
|
||||
of my fingers, bring it up to my hand. She is laughing now,
|
||||
piercing and mocking, delighting in her triumph. She doesn't keep
|
||||
it up for long. I raise the umbrella high above my head then stab
|
||||
it down into her open mouth and throat, pushing it into her
|
||||
esophagus as she spits and gurgles, her hands clutching even
|
||||
tighter at my neck. The handle is just past her teeth, my hand
|
||||
gripping it firmly even as she bites into my wrist. I use my thumb
|
||||
to find the release and push it up.
|
||||
After a while, coughing and wheezing, I push her corpse off of me and
|
||||
use the blood-soaked umbrella to stand up. As soon as I try to walk
|
||||
towards the nearest chair, I stumble and trip over her head. Standing up
|
||||
again, I look back down at the bloody mess on the carpet and on me. I
|
||||
feel bile rising in my throat, and I turn to run to the bathroom.
|
||||
|
||||
I push past the door and stagger to the sink, where I vomit noisily and
|
||||
stand for a while, staring into this puddle of my own sick. After what
|
||||
seems like forever I look up and into my reflection in the mirror. I am
|
||||
hunched over the sink, my hands still grasping the sides, my mouth
|
||||
hanging open and a thin trail of vomit hanging from my lower lip. My
|
||||
eyes are wet with tears from the choking and the vomiting.
|
||||
|
||||
Truly I am a pitiful sight. I give myself a weak smile, as if it will
|
||||
cheer me up. I can't help but notice that something is off in my
|
||||
reflection, but I can't think what. Then I tongue the gap where my tooth
|
||||
used to be. My reflection does not. It still has the full set.
|
||||
|
||||
The umbrella is spring operated, the fabric edged with sharp metal.
|
||||
Her neck evaporates in a cloud of blood and her head shoots up into
|
||||
the hair, twirling in the air like a basketball and falling to the
|
||||
ground with I and the rest of her body.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
After a while, coughing and wheezing, I push her corpse off of me
|
||||
and use the blood-soaked umbrella to stand up. As soon as I try to
|
||||
walk towards the nearest chair, I stumble and trip over her head.
|
||||
Standing up again, I look back down at the bloody mess on the
|
||||
carpet and on me. I feel bile rising in my throat, and I turn to
|
||||
run to the bathroom.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I push past the door and stagger to the sink, where I vomit noisily
|
||||
and stand for a while, staring into this puddle of my own sick.
|
||||
After what seems like forever I look up and into my reflection in
|
||||
the mirror. I am hunched over the sink, my hands still grasping the
|
||||
sides, my mouth hanging open and a thin trail of vomit hanging from
|
||||
my lower lip. My eyes are wet with tears from the choking and the
|
||||
vomiting.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Truly I am a pitiful sight. I give myself a weak smile, as if it
|
||||
will cheer me up. I can't help but notice that something is off in
|
||||
my reflection, but I can't think what. Then I tongue the gap where
|
||||
my tooth used to be. My reflection does not. It still has the full
|
||||
set.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The reflection straightens its back and wipes the vomit away, dries
|
||||
its eyes with the sleeve of its shirt, and all I can do is stare in
|
||||
dumb incomprehension. It is the same short black hair, the same
|
||||
baby blue eyes, the same trenchcoat, the same man, yet it moves of
|
||||
its own free will. It is me and yet it is not me.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
It has an almost condecending look in its eyes as it reaches down
|
||||
below the sink, to its ankle. It comes back up, my knife in its
|
||||
hands, its knife, and I cannot move a muscle.
|
||||
|
||||
The reflection straightens its back and wipes the vomit away, dries its
|
||||
eyes with the sleeve of its shirt, and all I can do is stare in dumb
|
||||
incomprehension. It is the same short black hair, the same baby blue
|
||||
eyes, the same trenchcoat, the same man, yet it moves of its own free
|
||||
will. It is me and yet it is not me.
|
||||
|
||||
It has an almost condecending look in its eyes as it reaches down below
|
||||
the sink, to its ankle. It comes back up, my knife in its hands, its
|
||||
knife, and I cannot move a muscle.
|
||||
|
||||
There is a flash of metal. He cuts through my throat like
|
||||
cheesecake. The arterial spray gives a good portion of the shitty
|
||||
green paint job a new coat from the opposite side of the color
|
||||
wheel. There is a brief sense of motion, and I taste ceramic, my
|
||||
body thudding to the bathroom floor. I move my mouth wordlessly as
|
||||
red begins to creep along the grout in between the white tiles. I
|
||||
hear a shuffle of fabic as my other self steps through the mirror
|
||||
and lowers himself from the sink to the floor. He steps over my
|
||||
body, taking care to not step in the advancing pool of blood.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
cheesecake. The arterial spray gives a good portion of the shitty green
|
||||
paint job a new coat from the opposite side of the color wheel. There is
|
||||
a brief sense of motion, and I taste ceramic, my body thudding to the
|
||||
bathroom floor. I move my mouth wordlessly as red begins to creep along
|
||||
the grout in between the white tiles. I hear a shuffle of fabic as my
|
||||
other self steps through the mirror and lowers himself from the sink to
|
||||
the floor. He steps over my body, taking care to not step in the
|
||||
advancing pool of blood.
|
||||
|
||||
My vision begins to cloud for the last time as he casts the knife
|
||||
absentmindedly down in front me. It slides to a halt next to my
|
||||
forehead. He begins to walk towards the front door, then stops,
|
||||
turns around. He walks cooly back to me, crouches in front of me,
|
||||
grimacing at the blood that is in danger of soiling the knee of his
|
||||
pants. He looks me in the eyes, and begins to say something, then
|
||||
thinks better of it. He does nothing for a second, simply watches
|
||||
me dying, then reaches over, placing an index and middle finger on
|
||||
my eyelids, and then he slides them shut.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
forehead. He begins to walk towards the front door, then stops, turns
|
||||
around. He walks cooly back to me, crouches in front of me, grimacing at
|
||||
the blood that is in danger of soiling the knee of his pants. He looks
|
||||
me in the eyes, and begins to say something, then thinks better of
|
||||
it. He does nothing for a second, simply watches me dying, then reaches
|
||||
over, placing an index and middle finger on my eyelids, and then he
|
||||
slides them shut.
|
||||
|
||||
``Good night, Luke.''
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -2,136 +2,163 @@
|
|||
\by{The Bananana}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Luke awoke in a bed.
|
||||
|
||||
Luke awoke in a bed. He stared at the ceiling and searched his mind
|
||||
for his surroundings. He couldn't remember a thing. His head
|
||||
ached, pounded as he struggled to sit up. He was in a clean white
|
||||
room.
|
||||
He stared at the ceiling; his head ached, pounded as he struggled to sit
|
||||
up. He was in a clean white room.
|
||||
|
||||
There was a noise. Familiar. Welcome.
|
||||
|
||||
Beneath the door drifted the smell of home. Of warm bread. Of eggs.
|
||||
The sounds and clatter of morning seeped through as well. He swung
|
||||
his legs over the side of the bed. His head was still aching, but
|
||||
it was lessening.
|
||||
The window, with drawn curtains yellowed with age, easily let light into
|
||||
the room. The sun flooded the room, bouncing off the floor with a soft
|
||||
mahogany glow, and gave the entire room a hospitable warmth. The
|
||||
blanket, worn and frayed with use, was nonetheless comfortable, and only
|
||||
added to the rooms ivory radiance. Beyond the tarnished brass rail
|
||||
footboard was the only other thing in the room that wasn't. A black
|
||||
door, defiant and bold, contrasted the pearlescent efforts of the rest
|
||||
of the room.
|
||||
|
||||
Beneath the door drifted the smell of home. Of warm bread. Of eggs. The
|
||||
sounds and clatter of morning seeped through as well; of voices
|
||||
murmuring, talking, laughing, accompanied by a symphony of pots and
|
||||
pans.
|
||||
|
||||
Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed. His head still ached, but
|
||||
it was lessening; he still couldn't remember a thing, everything before
|
||||
waking up just felt like a hazy dream. He searched the room for his
|
||||
personal affects to no avail. No shoes or clothes, no wallet or keys,
|
||||
and most importantly, no holster.
|
||||
|
||||
He didn't like any of it but, at least for now, he felt in no real
|
||||
danger, and decided to take a look around and see what he could find out
|
||||
about\ldots about everything.
|
||||
|
||||
He stood.
|
||||
|
||||
The sun's beams had warmed the floor. He stretched, lost his
|
||||
balance, and feel back to the bed. He lay there, lying in the
|
||||
light, when he began to listen.
|
||||
He savored the feel of the sun warmed floor. He stretched, reaching for
|
||||
the speckled ceiling before he lost his balance and feel back onto the
|
||||
bed. He lay there, basking in the light, when he began to listen more
|
||||
closely to the sounds behind the door.
|
||||
|
||||
A voice, He recognized it. Then another. He knew them both.
|
||||
That voice. He recognized it! The other too! He knew them both.
|
||||
|
||||
No, he thought, he must be dreaming.
|
||||
No, he thought. He had to be dreaming. There was no way he had heard
|
||||
right.
|
||||
|
||||
He got up and turned towards the door. Behind him, through the
|
||||
windows, the trees began dancing lightly in a sudden fresh
|
||||
breeze.
|
||||
He got up and turned towards the door. Behind him, through the window,
|
||||
the trees began dancing lightly in a sudden fresh breeze.
|
||||
|
||||
He inched to the door, and reached for the knob, and recoiled in
|
||||
pain, as the hot door burned his hand.
|
||||
He stepped to the door, and reached for the knob. He felt a warm heat
|
||||
radiating from the door. But the voices persisted. He had to know who
|
||||
was just beyond the door. He grabbed the knob, and instantly recoiled in
|
||||
pain as the burning hot steel bit into his hand.
|
||||
|
||||
``What are you doing'' asked a young boy from the corner
|
||||
of the room, surprising Luke.
|
||||
``What are you doing'' asked a young boy from the corner of the room.
|
||||
|
||||
He was small. Pale. He looked unwell.
|
||||
He had startled Luke, and was lucky the cold steel of his Berretta wasn'
|
||||
t weighing against his chest like it normally did. The child, no more
|
||||
than 10 years old looked pale and unwell. He looked as though his mother
|
||||
had dressed him for church, black Sunday suit, shined black shoes, even
|
||||
his jet black hair looked as though it had been slicked back by an
|
||||
overbearing mother.
|
||||
|
||||
``Wha{\ldots}who are you''? Luke said, studying the
|
||||
stranger.
|
||||
``Wha\ldots who are you? What am I doing here? Do\ldots Do you live
|
||||
here, is this your home''? Luke said, studying the strange child.
|
||||
|
||||
``That wasn't part of the deal'' the boy
|
||||
replied.
|
||||
``That wasn't part of the deal'' the boy replied eerily un-phased by
|
||||
Luke's questions.
|
||||
|
||||
Deal? Luke didn't know what the kid was talking about.
|
||||
|
||||
``Don't open the door'' the boy warned.
|
||||
|
||||
Luke knew what was on the other side. His family. His wife. His
|
||||
son. Sitting, waiting. Her red locks swaying and bouncing as she
|
||||
prepared their breakfast. His boy, sitting at the table, his feet
|
||||
dangling from the chair, smiling and laughing.
|
||||
Luke knew what was on the other side. The voices he had heard, the
|
||||
voices he could hear right now, were of his family. His wife. His
|
||||
son. Sitting, waiting. He could hear them now, as he listened, he could
|
||||
see them in his mind. Her red locks swaying and bouncing as she prepared
|
||||
their breakfast. His boy, sitting at the table, his feet dangling from
|
||||
the chair, smiling and laughing.
|
||||
|
||||
The young boy persisted.
|
||||
The young boy continued.
|
||||
|
||||
Don't open the door.'' He said again.
|
||||
``Don't open the door.'' He said again.
|
||||
|
||||
The room grew dark.
|
||||
|
||||
Luke looked outside, and watched as the trees now shook and swayed
|
||||
violently amidst an angry grass sea, heaving beneath the dark sky,
|
||||
as rain began to pelt the glass.
|
||||
violently amidst an angry grass sea, heaving beneath the dark sky, as
|
||||
rain began to pelt the glass.
|
||||
|
||||
``What are you doing here? Who are you?'' Luke tried
|
||||
again.
|
||||
``What are you doing here? Who are you?'' Luke tried again.
|
||||
|
||||
``You're not listening.'' the boy's eyes
|
||||
narrowed and he continued,
|
||||
``You're not listening.'' the boy's eyes narrowed and he carried on,
|
||||
``Enjoy it. Lay back down this time. Stay and enjoy it.''
|
||||
|
||||
``Enjoy it. Lay down this time. Stay and enjoy
|
||||
it.''
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The kid must have been sick. He wasn't making any
|
||||
The kid must be sick, Luke thought to himself, he's not making any
|
||||
sense.
|
||||
|
||||
``I've got a son about your age, he's right in
|
||||
there'' Luke said pointing to the door.
|
||||
``I've got a son about your age, he's right in there'' Luke said
|
||||
pointing to the door, trying to distract the child, ``Do you have any
|
||||
friends? I'm sure my boy will play with you. Do you like pancakes? My
|
||||
wife, she makes the best pancakes.''
|
||||
|
||||
``Do you have any friends? I'm sure my boy will play
|
||||
with you. Do you like pancakes? My wife, she makes the best
|
||||
pancakes.''
|
||||
``Luke'', the boy cut him off, ``Your son and wife are dead. They've
|
||||
been dead, since the fire. You know that. You know the deal. Stay
|
||||
here. Enjoy it.''
|
||||
|
||||
``Luke'', the boy cut him off, ``Your son and wife
|
||||
are dead. They've been dead, since the fire. You know the
|
||||
deal. Stay here. Enjoy it.''
|
||||
``What do you know about my wife and son? What do you mean they're
|
||||
dead.'' He stared at the child, ``Boy, I know your sick but you can't
|
||||
talk like that, it's not right. Listen, listen to them, can't you hear
|
||||
them, they're in there right now, look I'll show you'' Luke turned to
|
||||
the door.
|
||||
|
||||
``What do you know about my wife and son? What do you mean
|
||||
they're dead.'' He stared at the child
|
||||
``Please Luke,'' The boys face was unchanged, his voice placid but
|
||||
firm. ``Don't open the do\ldots{}''
|
||||
|
||||
``Boy, I know your sick but you can't talk like that,
|
||||
it's not right. Listen, listen to them, can't you hear
|
||||
them, they're in there right now, look I'll show
|
||||
you'' Luke turned to the door.
|
||||
``Hey!'' Luke yelled interrupting the boy, ``now I don't know what in
|
||||
the hell you're going on about, but it ends right now. Get out of here
|
||||
you sick freak, get out! Get ou-'' Luke searched for something to
|
||||
threaten the boy with, grabbing a lamp that had been behind him, but he
|
||||
turned back only to find the boy had disappeared, he was gone.
|
||||
|
||||
``Please Luke,'' The boys face was unchanged, his voice
|
||||
placid but firm and sure. ``Don't open the
|
||||
do{\ldots}''
|
||||
Luke rubbed his eyes. Had the boy really just vanished? It was
|
||||
impossible. As he stood there wondering what had just happened, he
|
||||
noticed that his head didn't hurt any more. He turned to search the
|
||||
room again, search for the boy, search for his belongings. He looked out
|
||||
the window. Outside the air was now enraged, thrashing about flinging
|
||||
rain and debris everywhere. It made Luke more even more uneasy, but he
|
||||
remembered the door, and he shook the feeling off. He reached once again
|
||||
for the knob, as the roar filled his ears.
|
||||
|
||||
``Hey!'' Luke interrupted, ``now I don't know
|
||||
what in the hell you're going on about, but it ends right
|
||||
now. Get out of here you sick freak, get out''! And the boy
|
||||
was gone.
|
||||
He grasped the knob tightly preparing for the searing pain when suddenly
|
||||
it was deafeningly quiet. He turned and looked back outside. It was
|
||||
bright, very bright out, and the trees and sky were calm. The door was
|
||||
cool to the touch, and Luke pulled open the door, eager to see his
|
||||
family.
|
||||
|
||||
Luke rubbed his eyes. Had the boy really just vanished? As he
|
||||
wondered what had just happened, he noticed that his head
|
||||
didn't hurt any more. Outside the air was now enraged,
|
||||
thrashing about flinging rain and debris everywhere. It made Luke
|
||||
more even more uneasy, but he remembered the door, and he shook the
|
||||
feeling off. He reached once again for the knob, as the roar filled
|
||||
his ears.
|
||||
Black. Charred wood. Everything, all of it, consumed. He steeped through
|
||||
the crumbling doorway.
|
||||
|
||||
And he grasped the knob and suddenly it was deafeningly quiet. He
|
||||
turned and looked back outside. It was bright, very bright out, and
|
||||
the trees and sky were calm. The door was cool to the touch, and
|
||||
Luke pulled open the door, eager to see his family.
|
||||
A burnt frame stood in place of former walls; the ghastly skeleton now
|
||||
surrounded all the ash and rubble that had been a home. Outside,
|
||||
surrounding the house were people. Fire crews, emergency personnel,
|
||||
neighbors, all of them just standing around the house, all of them just
|
||||
silently, chillingly starring. Luke was standing in what used to be a
|
||||
kitchen, when he recognized it. This was his house, this used to be his
|
||||
home. Where the sink had been rose a pair of pipes, jagged and singed,
|
||||
but sturdy and resilient. And then he saw them. Across the blackened
|
||||
room lay the dark remains of a woman clutching a child.
|
||||
|
||||
Black. Charred wood. Everything, all of it, consumed. HE steeped
|
||||
through the crumbling doorway. The burnt skeleton of walls now
|
||||
surrounded all the ash and rubble that was once his home. Outside,
|
||||
surrounding the house were hundreds of people, just starring. Near
|
||||
the pipes where the sink had been, lay the dark remains of a woman
|
||||
clutching a child.
|
||||
|
||||
He couldn't breathe, he couldn't swallow. Grief and
|
||||
sorrow were throttling him, and suddenly he let loose in heaving
|
||||
spasms as he ran to his family. He knelt, sobbing, over what was
|
||||
left of them.
|
||||
He couldn't breathe, he couldn't swallow. Grief and sorrow were
|
||||
throttling him, and suddenly he let loose in heaving spasms as he ran to
|
||||
his family. He knelt, sobbing, over what was left of them.
|
||||
|
||||
``No'' he uttered
|
||||
|
||||
The crowd erupted in a bellowing barrage of whispers
|
||||
The crowd erupted in a bellowing barrage of whispers that come from
|
||||
everywhere and nowhere at once. Not on person's mouth was moving and
|
||||
yet their voices were infinite, filling the air with an angry accusatory
|
||||
heat.
|
||||
|
||||
``You did this''
|
||||
|
||||
|
@ -143,68 +170,61 @@ The crowd erupted in a bellowing barrage of whispers
|
|||
|
||||
``They came for you''
|
||||
|
||||
``No{\ldots}NO!'' Luke screamed, ``I couldn't
|
||||
stop them{\ldots}''
|
||||
``No\ldots {\bf no!}'' Luke screamed, ``I couldn't stop them\ldots{}''
|
||||
|
||||
``I tried to save them'', he continued.
|
||||
|
||||
Amidst the churning crowd suddenly stood the boy again.
|
||||
|
||||
``I asked you not to open the door this time. I asked you to
|
||||
stay on the other side.''
|
||||
``I asked you not to open the door this time. I asked you to stay on the
|
||||
other side.''
|
||||
|
||||
``I{\ldots}I tried to save them'' Luke sputtered
|
||||
out
|
||||
``I\ldots I tried to save them'' Luke sputtered out.
|
||||
|
||||
``No'' reasoned the boy, ``no, you damned them. You
|
||||
dug too deep into our affairs; you stuck your nose in our business.
|
||||
It was you that did this to your wife. To your son. You are
|
||||
responsible.''
|
||||
``No'' reasoned the boy, ``no, you damned them. You dug too deep into
|
||||
our affairs; you stuck your nose in our business. When we sent our men
|
||||
here to fire the house, we sent them for you. It was you that did this
|
||||
to your wife. To your son. You are responsible.''
|
||||
|
||||
``I tried{\ldots}I came home{\ldots}the flames, they were
|
||||
everywhere'' Luke carried on, distantly.
|
||||
``I tried\ldots I came home\ldots the flames, they were everywhere'' Luke carried
|
||||
on, distantly.
|
||||
|
||||
``There's more.'' Said the boy,
|
||||
``there's more for you''
|
||||
``But don't worry. There's more.'' Said the boy, ``We have much more
|
||||
for you''
|
||||
|
||||
``No, it doesn't matter now'', Luke said sitting
|
||||
up, looking at the boy
|
||||
``No,'' Luke said sitting up, looking at the boy. ``it doesn't matter
|
||||
now''
|
||||
|
||||
His hollowed eyes and emotionless gaze should have terrified
|
||||
Luke.
|
||||
The child stared back with hollowed eyes and an emotionless gaze that
|
||||
should have terrified Luke.
|
||||
|
||||
``You can't do anything to me now{\ldots}just kill me.
|
||||
Kill me''
|
||||
``You can't do anything to me now\ldots just kill me. Kill me''
|
||||
|
||||
The boy's brows furrowed, his face twisted, pulled and broke.
|
||||
He smiled, and then began to laugh.
|
||||
The boy's brows furrowed, his face twisted, pulled and broke. He
|
||||
smiled, and then began to laugh.
|
||||
|
||||
``Kill you?'' He said regaining his composure,
|
||||
``Why? Why would I kill you? No. We have something much worse
|
||||
for you.'' And the crowd's accusing chants began to
|
||||
bleed through the boy's speech. They screamed now. Angry,
|
||||
haunting, they pierced through Luke's hands as he covered his
|
||||
ears.
|
||||
``Kill you?'' He said regaining his composure, ``Why? Why would I kill
|
||||
you? No. We have something much worse for you.'' The crowd's maddening
|
||||
chants began to bleed through the boy's speech. They seemed to scream
|
||||
now, everyone of them and none of them at once. Angry, haunting howls
|
||||
pierced through Luke's hands as he covered his ears.
|
||||
|
||||
``No, {\bf noo!}'' he screamed as he began to beat his head
|
||||
against the rubble. But it did nothing to lessen the shrieking
|
||||
crowd. He had to end it. He saw the pipe, sticking out of the
|
||||
foundation. Its jagged end would easily drive through his
|
||||
head.
|
||||
``No, {\bf noo!}'' he screamed as he began to beat his head against the
|
||||
rubble. But it did nothing to lessen the shrieking crowd. He had to end
|
||||
it. He looked around and saw the pipe sticking out of the foundation. It'
|
||||
ll do he thought.
|
||||
|
||||
He stood, the cries and screams still pursuing and punishing him.
|
||||
He took a breath and slammed his head down.
|
||||
He stood, the cries and screams still pursuing and punishing him. He
|
||||
struggled over to the pipe, rusty and charred. He'd have to be
|
||||
quick. He'd only get one chance. He took a breath and slammed his head
|
||||
down.
|
||||
|
||||
Luke awoke in a bed.
|
||||
|
||||
He stared at the ceiling; his head ached, pounded as he struggled to sit
|
||||
up. He was in a clean white room.
|
||||
|
||||
Luke awoke in a bed. He stared at the ceiling and searched his mind
|
||||
for his surroundings. He couldn't remember a thing. His head
|
||||
ached, pounded as he struggled to sit up. He was in a clean white
|
||||
room.
|
||||
|
||||
There was a noise. Familiar. Welcome.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
There was a noise. Familiar. Welcome.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
Loading…
Reference in New Issue