Horrors2/stories/The_Bananana.Deja_Vu.tex

\chapter{Deja Vu}
\by{The Bananana}



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.

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.

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.

A voice, He recognized it. Then another. He knew them both.

No, he thought, he must be dreaming.

He got up and turned towards the door. Behind him, through the
windows, 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.

``What are you doing'' asked a young boy from the corner
of the room, surprising Luke.

He was small. Pale. He looked unwell.

``Wha{\ldots}who are you''? Luke said, studying the
stranger.

``That wasn't part of the deal'' the boy
replied.

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.

The young boy persisted.

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.

``What are you doing here? Who are you?'' Luke tried
again.

``You're not listening.'' the boy's eyes
narrowed and he continued,

``Enjoy it. Lay down this time. Stay and enjoy
it.''



The kid must have been sick. He wasn't making any
sense.

``I've got a son about your age, he's right in
there'' Luke said pointing to the door.

``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 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.

``Please Luke,'' The boys face was unchanged, his voice
placid but firm and sure. ``Don't open the
do{\ldots}''

``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.

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.

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.

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.

``No'' he uttered

The crowd erupted in a bellowing barrage of whispers

``You did this''

``This is your fault''

``They came for you''

``Why did you let them die?''

``They came for you''

``No{\ldots}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{\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.''

``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''

``No, it doesn't matter now'', Luke said sitting
up, looking at the boy

His hollowed eyes and emotionless gaze should have terrified
Luke.

``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.

``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.

``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.

He stood, the cries and screams still pursuing and punishing him.
He took a breath and slammed his head down.



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.