Self Therapy

May,

                I’m writing this email because I want you to know what you’ve made me become.  Since our divorce I have done everything I can to move on.  I’ve developed new hobbies, moved to a new state and counseling.  Nothing has worked.  A few months ago, during a sleepless night I went for a drive to clear my mind.  Before I realized it, I had driven throughout the night and parked right in front of our home. (Well, my home that the courts awarded to you.)  Anyway, I felt as though my body moved on its own.  My hands opened the door, my legs moved to get out of the car.  A “clack” sound broke my stupor.  I looked down to see my loaded Smith & Wesson on the ground.  It must have fallen out of my lap as I tried to get out of the car but, I couldn’t remember why I had the gun or that I brought it with me.

                May, I would never NEVER hurt you.  I feel like my mind has cracked.  I love you too much to hurt you, but I need to burn, to destroy the thoughts of you in my head!

                See, this is where my “attacks” began.  I met a young lady a few weeks ago at a club.  I was at the bar trying to drink thoughts of you out of my mind even if it was for a few hours.  She came to me and introduced herself.  After a few drinks she invited me back to her place.  We made out briefly at her front door while she fiddled with the lock.  As soon as we got inside however, my God!

                PINK!  Everything was pink!  Your favorite color!  Why did she have to like pink?!  My head began to throb, like my brain was going to shove its way out of my forehead.  My heart started racing faster than I’ve known it to do.  I got dizzy.  Before I could stop myself, my hands were around her throat.  In my heart I knew what I was doing was wrong.  All I could see was the color pink and your face, on her body.  With all the force I had in me I squeezed.  She tried to claw my face and arms to break free with no results.  I heard something crunch in her neck and she went limp.  As the light faded from her eyes it was if a light had been turned on in me.  The headache subsided, my strength was sapped and I felt as though a fog had been cleared.  Once I saw her crumpled body on her floor I fled as fast as I could.  May, the strangest thing happened on that drive home.  The color pink no longer bothered me like it did that night.  It was like, killing that girl was a form of self-therapy.  Killing her was me, killing off a painful memory of you!  Of course, I had to test the theory.

                Rachel, a little slip of a thing who worked at a library downtown asked me out several times in the past.  She’s not my type though, you…you are my type.  Well, I went there to return a few books well passed the due date. We spoke and she asked me out again.  This time, I accepted.  We went to dinner…nothing.  We went to a movie…nothing.  I had begun to think that I was on an average date and that the club girl was a fluke ya know?  I got the anger and frustration I had in me released when I strangled her.  I asked Rachel to my apartment because there was NOTHING in there that reminded me of you, I did that to reduce any chances of those headaches.  To be honest, as the night continued, I took a liking to Rachel.  I even entertained the idea of a second, third or fourth date.  We got to my place and I showed her around before leaving her in the living room while I went to the kitchen to fix a nightcap.  I remember cracking some sort of corny joke and she laughed.  Her laugh was truly beautiful, full of life and sweet.  Then it happened.

                That laugh was beautiful as I said, but it was emphasized at the end by a little snort.  Just…like…yours.  My head pounded, my vision got fuzzy.  I receded into my own mind.  Once again, my body was carrying out actions without my consent!  I watched myself shatter a glass, causing her to run into the kitchen to check on me.  I couldn’t stop myself when she approached me and I shoved a large jagged piece into her eye.  She let out a bit of a scream but nothing that the neighbors could hear.  As before, the pain fizzled away and a moment of clarity came.  I knew then that if someone were to snort after a laugh, I would be ok.  The cleanup was tedious I confess.  However, I was able to (over time mind you) carry her out of there and dispose of her.

                Since Rachel, I have committed several horrible crimes against really wonderful women!  There was Sarah, her favorite restaurant was Benici’s, you love Benici’s; she was shot with the same Smith & Wesson that I brought to your home so long ago.  Joan, she was so beautiful.  She was terrified of a spider that made its way into my car like you.  I bludgeoned her to death with a tire iron. There are many others but that’s not the reason for this email.

                This is me, asking you, to stop me.  I can’t stop myself.  I’ve been fortunate enough not to get caught so far, but I overlooked something during my “self-counseling.”  You see May, my head hurts worse than ever before and it has become difficult to continue typing right now.  You recall that the courts awarded me joint custody of Patricia and as the order instructed, I picked her up from the bus depot for her six month stay with me.  We’re supposed to go to Pizza Palace for dinner.  She’s standing just outside of my bedroom door with an impatient look across her face.

                And it made me think of you.

 

End.

The Call

“For the last time, NO!”  Annabelle Atwater screamed into the phone, “I know the importance and significance of today but we are not doing any interviews, we have grieved and put it behind us!”  She slammed the phone down onto the base.

Gregory Atwater sat in his armchair mindlessly watching a football game, the images of the T.V. flickered off of his thick bifocals.

“Another reporter called.  They want to do some damn interview about Angel’s disappearance.  The fifteen year anniversary of the missing fifteen year old girl.  One man dubbed it ‘Fifteen for fifteen’.  They are already making tag lines to market our loss!  I say no!  What’s in the past is in the past.  If we agree to interviews those assholes would ask questions…questions that will peak someone’s interest, then they’ll….GREGORY!”

He turned his attention from the game, a blank stare plastered across his face.

“Did you hear what I said?”  Annabelle shouted as she entered the den and sat next to him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “they want to do interviews and you don’t.  Just tell em no.”

She sighed.  “We should never have been parents.  I should’ve known something was wrong with you when we got together.  I was fourteen and you were what?  Twenty five?  Twenty seven?  Ha!”  She scoffed, “I thought I was special, turns out you just like them young.”

Gregory looked back at the television.  He heard so much about his actions that night over the past fifteen years that he became numb to his wife’s ugly remarks.  She continued.

“You had me!  A full grown and; thanks to you, sexually knowledgeable wife at your disposal but you couldn’t keep your hands off our little girl.”  She stood back up.  “I should’ve said something when I woke up and saw that you were not in bed that night.  Oh, I knew where you were though didn’t I Greg?  Oh I knew!  There you were, in Angel’s bedroom on top of my little girl!”

Annabelle began to leave the den when Gregory finally spoke.  “Then why did you help me?”

The question was direct.  His voice was as rough as two concrete slabs rubbed against each other.  The question caused Annabelle to stop in her tracks.  She turned to him slowly.

“You know why,” she rebutted, her voice was low and harsh, resembling a growl more than speech.  “I didn’t help you.  I PROTECTED US!  Angel was our daughter, but she was a hussy!  She threw her little twat all around town.  But that’s the thing…small towns are where people talk.  Both of our families live in this town.  I already had negative ass comments about Angel’s (Annabelle made air quotes) “activities” with those boys and to have word spread that I married a molester too?  I wouldn’t be able to show my face in public.  Greg, you heard her that night, the night we did what we did.  She told us that she would tell!  She would talk about you.  Tell about me knowing that you were getting pleasure from her.  We couldn’t live with that.”

Once again, Gregory sat still, the ambient noise of the T.V. continued as his mind went elsewhere.  Annabelle was familiar with that look which angered her.  The look that said to her, Gregory was mentally checking out of the conversation.  Annabelle felt the need to convince, not only Gregory but to herself, that their actions that night were justified.

“She would have ruined us Greg!  You just finished your first part of the campaign.  I was gonna be the wife of a mayor!  Even with our daughter’s past, the town still wanted you to lead.  So, when she lashed out the way she did talking about calling the police, sexual abuse and so on well…I had to do SOMETHING!”

Annabelle stopped and thought about that night.  Finding Gregory on top of Angel for the umpteenth time.  The harsh words shouted by her daughter.  Annabelle’s failed attempts to talk to Angel out of telling someone.  Her mind flashed to grabbing a nearby lamp and striking the temple of Angel’s head.  The crunch sound that the blow made before Angel collapsed on the floor.  She remembered how scared she was when the reality of her actions came forward.  She recalled dropping the bloody lamp next to Angel when their daughter started to move again.  Without hesitation, Gregory scooped up the lamp and struck Angel again, and again until her head was left as a pink mush.  Covered in blood they looked at each other.  Gregory’s cement voice played in her head the same words he said that night.

“Now we are in this together.”

The phone rang, snapping Annabelle from the past into the present.  “Another one.”  She mumbled to herself.  She stormed over to the phone and snatched it to her ear.

“Look, we’ve told you people everything we know about our daughter’s disappearance!  Mayor Atwater and I are still very upset about the whole ordeal!”

Are you?” A female voice responded softly.  The voice sounded so familiar it caught Annabelle off guard.

“Wh-who is this?”

Does my voice have to be muffled by the sound of dad’s hand to sound familiar to you?”  The female replied.

Annabelle’s blood froze.  She walked with the phone to the den.  Gregory looked at her again, this time, his look was as if he expected something.  Annabelle’s voice caught in her throat.  What came out was barely above a whisper.

“A-Angel…on the phone.”

Gregory raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “Bout time you heard it, she’s been calling since yesterday.  I thought it was in my head.”

Annabelle dropped the phone, causing it to bump softly on the den carpet.  She walked dumbly to a window in the den overlooking her rose bushes.  The same bushes that Angel Atwater was buried under.  As she looked out, Angel’s voice was heard in the background growing louder each time she spoke.

Hello?  Hello? HELLO? HELLO? HELLOOOOOO?

 

END

THE CROSSROADS

THE CROSSROADS

To my wife Anne,

First, let me tell you that I love you.  I know recent events have made it hard to believe sometimes, but I do.  Over the past few nights I have grown distant from you and I think that you have felt it.  Here is the reason why.

Hopefully you remember the trip I took to Texas.  The one where I broke down somewhere in Mississippi.  Well, I didn’t tell you everything.  I did break down in Mississippi, the damn car conked out on a vacant stretch of road leading into Louisiana.  With no gas station in sight and my shitty cell phone reception, I couldn’t get any help.  I didn’t want to sit on my ass and wait for a passerby so I got out and started walking.  I swear I walked for miles in that damn heat!  Sweat seeped through my shirt, my pants, everything!  I felt my knees get weaker, my mouth was so dry I couldn’t produce saliva!  I stopped by the roadside to think about any other course of action that I could take.  Absentmindedly, I said something to the effect of “I’ll trade my soul for something cold to drink.”  Sometime later, I continued to walk.  I figured, at that point I had walked too far away from the car to turn back so I pushed on.

As I approached a crossroads off of US 43, a black antique looking vehicle approached me from behind.  Even though it was an old school type of car, I didn’t hear the engine or anything until it pulled up beside me.  The car was nice!  Smooth midnight black paint all over with chrome lining.  The whole thing was pristine.  I tried to see a driver through the passenger side window but the tint was too dark.  When the window went down, a well-dressed man with a thin black mustache and a pulled back ponytail sat in the driver’s seat looking back at me.  He offered me a ride to the nearest service station and with the way the heat was beating down on me, I jumped in the car without hesitation.

Our time together was relatively brief.  After I introduced myself and told him about my situation concerning my car, we made some small talk during which I told him about the job, the heat, and various other things.  I answered each question honestly because at the moment, I felt at ease around him and he didn’t ask any personal type of questions.  I thanked him for the ride several times and expressed how eager I was to get to civilization so that I could buy something to drink.  That’s when my real problems began.

Anne, the next thing I’m about to tell you may seem unbelievable, but trust me, it’s real.  The man reached into the back seat and brought forth the coldest, most mouthwatering bottle of water that I have ever seen!  The bottle was so cold that shards of ice were still floating near the top, condensation ran over the tips of his fingers as he held it.  Looking at the water reminded me of that silly shit I muttered earlier that day.  Like an idiot, I brought up my statement and he pulled over to the side of the roadway instantly.  Once the car was in park, he looked at me.  His eyes were ocean blue but I couldn’t help feeling that something else was in those eyes, something dark.

“Did you really mean that?”  He asked.

I told him that I did, but believe me I meant it as a joke!  We both laughed a bit about the absurdity of it all and as our chuckles faded he offered me the water.  At that point, the dryness in my mouth taxed my throat.  I felt myself straining just to speak.  I took the bottle from his hand.  Before I cracked the seal, he said to me almost playfully, “If you take a sip, I get that soul right?”

Of course, I thought he was full of shit, just fucking with me about my “soul” comment and was making light of the situation.  We laughed a little bit more about it.  I can still remember what I said back.

“Sure man, after all the help you’ve given me, it’s yours.”  After that, I opened the water and downed it in one sitting.

The moment, I mean the exact damn moment I finished the last few drops from the bottle, he put the vehicle in drive.  Within seconds we were at a gas station.  I mean, it seemed to just appear over a small hill we went over.  He pulled up to a pump and told me that “it was nice” speaking to me.  As I unbuckled my seat belt he grabbed me by the shoulder to get my attention.  I turned to look at him, those cold blue eyes locked on mine once again.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya friend.”  He said to me with a smile.  He stuck out his hand.  I shook it but didn’t know what he meant at first until I thought back to the “soul” stuff.  I thought the guy was a little touched in the head so I just nodded and smiled.  I wanted to thank him properly so I asked his name.

“I got a multitude of names,” I remembered that line because to me “multitude” of names confirmed to me that the guy was clearly nuts!  A multiple personality type thing.  So anyway, I asked him what he preferred to be called.

“Ba’al will be fine,” he said it as plainly as a person would when ordering a coffee.  I told him that the name was unusual and he agreed that it was.

“Our names are unusual to you mortals.”

Once again, my theory on the guy was confirmed…crazy.  I began to back away.  I mean, since I’m safely at a location with other people around I didn’t need to entertain that lunatic any further, but he continued.

“You probably think I’m not in my right mind, but I assure you that I am.  I am, in many circles, referred to as one of the ‘fallen’.  One of those cast out from Heaven and banished to Hell many years ago.”

“So you’re the devil?”  I admit, I chuckled a little when I said it.  It just seemed so damned ridiculous.  That look he gave me afterward is still burned in my mind.

“No, I’m not king Lucifer, nobody has seen him in quite some time.  Besides, you mortals always assume each time you meet one of us that we are he.  We are not.”

Yup!  As I’m sure you guessed, I walked away immediately.  The guy made me nervous to the point of goose bumps.  As I walked away, he shouted that he would return in fifteen thousand nine hundred and eighty four hours.  The time frame was oddly specific but like I said, the guy was lost his mind.  I couldn’t help but noticing that as he spoke, he did so with such confidence and clarity that I started to believe that he may not be crazy.  I chalked the whole thing up to him obviously fucking with me.  He gave me a parting wave and left, driving back from the same way that we came.

I entered the gas station and luckily the clerk let me use the phone to call roadside assistance.  A wrecker came and got the car, which I told you about.  While I waited for the tow truck to get to me, I asked the clerk if he noticed that sleek vintage car that I got out of at the pumps, unfortunately though, he said he was attending other customers.  When he even took notice of me, I was walking into the place.  Everything else about the story I have already told you.

By the time a year passed, I had forgot about the guy and his weird ass behavior.  One day a few months back, a delivery boy at the office brought me a package I ordered a client.

“Hey friend, just a reminder time is getting short.”  Even though I haven’t heard that voice in over a year, the sound froze the blood in my veins.  I looked up and sure as shit it was him!  As my mind processed what I experienced, he smiled and left my office.  Once my shock passed I called security.  I personally went with them to the mail room, bathrooms and all exits to search for him with no luck.  I knew I wasn’t seeing things so I got with the head of security.  Together, we watched the security footage during the time frame that he came into my office with the package.  Four times! Four times we watched the clip!  Each time the video played crystal clear until his estimated arrival to my office.  When that moment hit, the footage flickered and went to black.  When the clip played again, I’m alone with the package in my hand and a dumb scared look on my face.  I couldn’t explain it then, and I can’t explain it now.

I saw the man who identified himself as Ba’al a few short months after the first incident.  I went to Best Bakery, a little sandwich shop near work.  I don’t usually eat there, but there was no line at the time so I went in.  I walked up to the register to place my order.  The cashier, a dumpy looking woman with “Layla” on her name tag rung me up.  I just happened to have exact change for my food and went into my pocket to get the last few pennies needed.  Layla told me that she needed more sliced tomato from the fridge and she went to get it.  I stayed at the register of course.  I checked my watch quickly to because I was pressed for time.  When I looked back to the register, he was there, staring at me with a smile!  I froze in my tracks Anne, I couldn’t scream or yell it was like my throat was just caught somehow.

He leaned over the register toward me, “it’s almost time to collect friend.”  It seemed like the closer he leaned toward me, the more his eyes bulged from his face with some sort of joker’s smile from ear to ear.  I was scared Anne, so scared that I dropped my money on the floor, breaking my concentration from him.  I looked briefly at the scattered money then looked back at Ba’al…Gone, but Layla was back looking like a deer in headlights.  I asked her about the man, about Ba’al.  She told me over and over that she was the only person working that afternoon and that nobody else had been behind the register with her all day.  I had to call the police.

It was obvious now that this guy “Ba’al” was stalking me.  I told the cops everything.  Layla called her district manager who came to the bakery and viewed the video footage with the police.  An hour or so passed while I waited in the dining area of the store.  An officer came out of the manager’s office and escorted me outside.  He told me that on tape, I was seen entering the restaurant and placing my order with Layla.  She then walked to the back, out of camera view.  He saw me look around the place and when I looked back at the register, I froze.  He said that based on my reaction he could tell that I was terrified of something, but nobody was on camera.  He saw me drop my money and while I picked it up, Layla came back to the register with the tomatoes.

The officer, I think his name was Lyon or Lyons…I can’t remember which; anyway, he was a bit of a religious guy.  He asked me about my encounter at the crossroads and the incidents afterward.  He grilled me for a while and thought about the time frame Ba’al gave me until he collected my soul.  We agreed that the time and date seemed unusually specific.  He told me that when it comes to the devil or his minions, they enjoy playing mental games and shady bargains with mortals.  He put the date in his phone and told me that if any information came up, he would contact me.  I gave him my number and left.

Anne, you know I’m not a believer in that religious bullshit, but if this fucking guy thought he was an agent from hell, I had to solve this issue.  After work, I scoured the internet for some way around this.  I figured that if he is that committed to this act, he may also follow the rules that apply to demons.  As each day passed my time was growing short, I could feel it.  I didn’t know at the time if he planned to kill me or this whole thing was some fucked up but elaborate prank.  I just didn’t know.

I read solutions to demonic bargains.  Online there are thousands of would-be demon experts with answers.  Things ranging from making another bargain, having someone take your place, have a holy man bless your home and family…or the person who made the deal needs to commit suicide just to get it over with.  I grew anxious about this shit, but I didn’t want to worry you.  I tried a few ideas already.

I’ve had Pastor Dean come by the house from the Greater High Praise Baptist Church while you were at work a few days ago.  I had to go through the hassle of filling out some forms and become a member of the church, but in the end, I got the blessing.  That same day, I got a call from Officer Lyons as a follow up from my stalking report.  He told me that since the incident, he reviewed the restaurant tape several times with other officers.  Nobody saw any person speaking to me.  Since there is no visible suspect, the case had to be closed, which I understood.  He did tell me however that true to the “demon theme” fifteen thousand nine hundred and eighty four hours is six hundred, sixty six days…Three sixes.  After that I’ve been wearing a cross around my neck, which I know you’ve noticed.  For a while I thought I was safe and over time, I started to believe that I was overreacting and stress got the best of me.  Until two nights ago.

I don’t know if you remember, but two nights ago we had Benici’s Pizza and watched some movies.  You went to bed but I finished one more movie and a few drinks.  Eventually you know I fell asleep on the couch.  I don’t recall the exact time I woke up but I know what woke me.  Initially, it felt as though someone was patting or tapping my face.  I opened my eyes but it took a second for me to focus.  When I took in my surroundings, the image hit me.

A creature, that’s the best way I could describe it.  A creature.  It sat on the edge of the coffee table a few feet away from me, glaring.  Sweetheart, you got to understand what I saw, what terrified me.  There, seated on our table with its legs crossed, hands clasped resting on his knee like he was at some kind of job interview was a…thing!  Red skin from head to hoof, the smell of rotting eggs filled the room.  Two large ram horns protruded from the sides of its head.  Its pointed ears were drawn back, long locks of slick black hair covered most of its face.  The creature leaned forward, his pointed red nose resembled and accusatory finger aimed right at me.  It grinned from ear to ear.  The crazy thing about it was that its teeth were flawless!  You would think that its teeth would be jagged and twisted based solely on its exterior appearance, but no; there was a row of perfectly white teeth behind a pair of black leathery lips.  I looked into its eyes, its cold BLUE eyes.

“Hello friend.”

Even though it did not look like the man I met so long ago, that voice was undeniable. I replied.

“Hello Ba’al”

We talked.  Although I was terrified of his appearance and the confirmation that he was in fact some creation of hell, I remained calm.  He told me that he knew I was dodging him, that he didn’t appreciate me calling security on him at work or the police at the sandwich place.  He let me know that he could have found ways to take my soul before the designated time, but he reminded me that a “deal is a deal” and he wanted to wait until the allotted time has passed to do so.  So we sat there in the living room, just him and me as we once again went over the terms of the bargain.  We discussed the error of my ways and that foolish comments like selling my soul for a drink can’t be taken lightly.  I understand that now more than ever.

Anne, as you read this please know that I will miss you and our unborn child.  It does hurt knowing that I won’t even see our child’s first steps, first words or first breath of life.  As I sit here in our car, the same car that broke down not so long ago.  The same car that caused me to meet Ba’al in the first place, I can feel that our time has come to an end together.  I want to thank you for the years you have given me as a wife and a friend.  I want to thank you for carrying our child.  I want to thank you for all the love and support you have given me.  It was because of you, pushing me to be my best, that I was eligible for promotion to executive officer of the company.  I thank you for it all.  Lastly, I want to thank you for breakfast this morning; our last breakfast together.  I know, it was nothing special, eggs, bacon and toast with a cup of coffee.  Of course you had the orange juice.  You love orange juice… and that’s why you’re asleep now.

Baby, as I said earlier, I just got promoted to a position that I have busted my ass to get for nearly fifteen years.  I worked too hard to lose it all now.  So I must confess this last thing to you.  Ba’al and I spoke about the deal I made with him in the living room as I have told you.  I asked him about ways that I could change or even extend my time on earth.  I was told, in a way; that I could squeeze out a couple of years if I sacrificed him a life.  Ba’al also mentioned that the deal will be considered honored if I could sacrifice a virgin life.  He promised that if I could provide a pure soul that he would cut me free of the deal completely!  So, after he left I devised this plan.  I bummed some horse tranquilizers from Ryan, you remember Ryan?  My veterinarian friend you met a while back?  Anyway, he gave them to me after I gave him a sob story about being an addict and in need of a fix.  I held on to the meds until this morning when I crushed them up and put it in the pitcher of orange juice.  After you were knocked out, I put you in the trunk and drove you here from Georgia, to where you are going to wake…the crossroads.

I’m sorry that I had to do this, and I’m sorry that my poor decisions will cost you your life, but you have a virgin soul inside of you, one that will guarantee my soul’s safety.  Hopefully by the time you read this, Ba’al would be there to collect what I promised, two souls for the price of one…he called it “one hell of a deal.”

Love,

Benjamin

LIKE SAUSAGES (PART 2)

     After a few cries the baby was finally silent.  Susan was still nervous after her husband came home acting strange.  Her hands were visibly shaking even though the tears in her eyes were subsiding.

     Why would a random stranger bite a person?   She thought to herself.  It doesn’t make sense. Was the guy provoked?

     She sat at the kitchen table waiting for Adam to come back downstairs and explain things thoroughly.  Her hand played with the top of a soda can she took from the fridge.

     He never shouted at me like that before, he looked terrified!

She popped open the soda, the sound echoed off of the walls in the kitchen.

     He’s taking a long time, I hope everything is ok.

     Susan continued to wait.  Moments turned into minutes.  No movement could be heard from upstairs.

     I’m gonna check on the baby at least.

     She ascended the stairs carrying their child’s favorite toy, a small fire engine with a little fireman sticking out of the top.  The noise the toy made annoyed the shit out of her, but whenever baby Cameron saw it, he would light up, which of course, made her light up.  As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard a short “thump” sound coming from Cameron’s room at the end of the hall.  She called out.

     “Adam, Are you still with Cameron?”…No answer.

     Susan stopped quickly at the master bedroom between the bathroom and Cameron’s room, the bedroom door was open.

     “Babe, you in here?”  She popped her head into the room…Nothing.

     He probably fell asleep with the baby like he usually does.

     A rough, crunching sound shot down the hallway, surprising Susan.  She tensed up; something other than Adam’s earlier actions seemed…off.  She left the bedroom and continued down the hallway.  As she approached Cameron’s door another sound, one that Susan couldn’t place at the moment, but a familiar sound intensified at the baby’s door.  She turned the doorknob slowly, concerned that she would wake Adam and the baby if they weren’t already asleep.  The door swung open noiselessly.  A putrid odor stung her nose as the door came to a soft stop.  She saw Adam, standing at the far end of their child’s bedroom facing outside a window.  Globs of a thick red substance dripped sporadically at his feet, making a puddle on the floor.  Although he was facing away from Susan, she could tell that he was cradling something in his hands.

     “Adam,” Susan said as she entered the room, “is everything ok with Cameron, What is that smell?”

     Adam flinched, startled by Susan’s entrance.  He remained as before, facing the window.  Over his head Susan could see the sun begin to set over the horizon.

     “St…ay back Susan,” Adam said, a slight quiver in his voice made her more nervous than before.  “I’ve done something…something you shouldn’t see.  Something bad.”

     Susan took a few more steps closer to her husband.  The foul odors in the air began to overwhelm her senses.

     “Honey, Cameron’s not in his crib, do you have him?”

     “Susan,” Adam spoke again, his voice a little calmer that before, “please, go away, please.  I’ve done something horrible, I can’t take it back.  Walk away, close the door behind you and leave the house, but don’t come any closer.  I can smell you, you’re too close to me.”

     Susan froze, gripping Cameron’s fire engine so tight that the plastic parts began to squeal against one another.

     “Adam! Have you done something to our son?  What the fuck do you mean ‘you can smell me’?  How can you smell me over whatever is in here?  Face me!  What did you do!?”

    Adam’s shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh.  He turned around slowly.  The vision that Susan saw next burned an image into her brain that she would not soon forget.

    Adam was in fact holding…what remained…of their son Cameron.  Massive sections of Cam’s right arm were chewed off from the wrist to the shoulder.  Teeth marks were embedded into his left cheek, exposing his tiny gums.  Many of his toes were severed whole, with protruding bones in their wake.  Blood covered the tiny body from head to foot, dropping onto the carpet in soft “plops”.  Cameron’s head bobbed from side to side each time Adam moved.  Susan stood, horrified as her husband continued to cradle the baby.  One arm held his son as if he was trying to rock him to sleep.  The other, dug through Cameron’s little belly snatching pieces of flesh free and inserting gore into his mouth.  Tears filled Adam’s eyes.

     “I-I can’t stop!”  He cried out through mouthfuls of his son’s remains.  “I only wanted to take a nip, nothing serious, but he tasted soo good!”

     Susan was speechless.  She wanted to scream, run or…something!  But fear and disbelief kept her still.  Adam began to approach her, Cam’s beautiful and lifeless green eyes stared at the ceiling.  As each moment passed, Adam’s own eyes began to cloud over with red.  Adam spoke as he closed distance between them.

     “I’m so sorry Susan,” greenish yellow tears saturated his cheeks.  “Please, take our son, I don’t want to hurt him anymore.”

     Susan found herself slowly backing away from her husband. The crunching noises, those were Cameron’s bones! That smell, Cameron’s blood!  I have to get out of here, I have to call the police.

“Stay away from me you bastard!”  She shouted, “Our son!  MY son!  How could you do that to him?”

     “I SAID I WAS SORRY!”  Adam shouted back, his voice sounded hoarse, nearly animalistic.  “Please, just…just take our son and call the police.  I’ll go to jail without any fuss, just take our son and give me a parting kiss, I’ll wait here for the police.”  He continued his approach with Cameron in his outstretched arms.

     “I said, stay the fuck away from me Adam!”  She backed up a little further.

     “Okay, if you’re not going to take Cameron, at least as my wife, give me a goodbye kiss.  I know I will spend the rest of my life in prison for this; I’m ok with that but your kisses always make me feel better and you smell soo gooood!”

“This is my last warning Adam!  You’re not my husband anymore, I don’t know who or what you are right now, but I know that no FATHER would do this to their own child!”

     Adam paused for a moment.  He looked down at the cold dead eyes of his son and spoke.  “I tried to give our son to you.  I guaranteed that I would wait for the police to get here after you called them.  All I wanted in return was to feel you one last time.”  His eyes met hers.  “You should have left the house when I told you to, I can’t stop this, I told you I could smell you, I’ve fought it this long but-but you smell so damned delicious!”

     Adam flung his son’s body aside.  Cameron’s remains struck the bedroom wall with a “splat” leaving a blood outline on the baby duck  wallpaper.  Adam charged at Susan with his arms outreached.  He grabbed Susan’s left arm as she attempted to run out of the bedroom.  As if by instinct, she swung at Adam with her right hand, the hand holding baby Cameron’s fire truck.  The toy struck Adam’s temple with pinpoint accuracy.  The force of the blow made the toy  explode against his head.  Adam jerked violently to the side as he landed against a nearby dresser.  Susan winced as pieces of shattered plastic dug into her palm.  She wasted no time afterward.  She fled the bedroom without a second glance, bounding down the stairs two to three steps at a time in her mad dash to the home phone in the kitchen.

     “SUSAAAAAN!”  She heard behind her.

     She nearly fell into the kitchen as she reached for the phone.  Her hands shook so severely while dialing 911 that she misdialed the number twice.

     “Susan!  Why did you hit me?”  From the voice alone, Susan could tell that although Adam was down, he was not going to be for long.

     She grabbed a knife from the counter as she shouted at the dispatcher.

     “Please send someone! My-my husband… something is wrong with him!  He’s killed our baby!”

     “Ma’am,” this dispatcher replied with a bit of panic in her own voice, “please remain calm for me, what’s your name?”

     “Susan Marie Blankenship!  I live at 4532 Cedar Grove Court!  My husband killed our son and will kill me next, please send police!”

     “Ma’am,” the dispatcher continued, “are your husband’s eyes discolored?  Did he complain about being sick, stuck or bitten by anything?”

     Susan removed the phone from her ear and stared at it blankly for a moment.  How does she know?  Are there others?

     “Ma’am?”

“Uh, yes-yes.  He said a homeless man bit him on the way home.”

The dispatcher’s tone became urgent.  “Susan, listen to me sweetheart ok?  Get out of that house!  We’ve received calls like this all day, get out of the house, find a safe place, lock yourself inside and stay quiet!  I’ll try to send someone to you now, but there is nothing you can do other than….”

     Susan dropped the phone as she stared at the entrance to the kitchen.  Adam stood there, eyes glaring at her.  A small trail of yellow fluid oozed from his temple.  Pieces of Cameron’s fire truck stuck in his flesh.  His breathing was haggard and heavy.

     “Suus,” as he spoke, saliva with the consistency and color of anti-freeze trailed down his chin, mixing with the coagulated blood of his son, “you hit me!”

     Susan gripped the knife handle tightly, thinking about her son, the baby that will not experience a full life.  Her fear started to change…it became anger.  Her eyes narrowed into slits, staring back at Adam with the same intensity that he stared at her.  Adam’s eyes moved from her face to the knife.  The dispatcher’s voice was inaudible from the discarded phone.

     “A knife Suus?  You’re gonna use that on your husband?”

     “If I have to…but after what you have done, even if I didn’t have to, I want to.”

    “I see,” Adam replied relaxing his arms to his sides. “I told you I can’t control it.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I’m always hungry, always in pain.  What I did to Cameron was fucked up!  I know that!  But when I bit into him it felt amazing!  My hunger went away.  My pain?  Gone!  Ya know how people talk about hitting cocaine or meth for the first time?  How that high is the best thing they ever felt?  I felt more alive than I ever felt before don’t you get it?”

     Susan’s voice got lower…darker.  “No.  I don’t know.  My high came from Cameron, from his birth and every second of his life.  You took that from me.”

     Adam flung his arms out wide.  Specks of viscera spotted the kitchen walls.  “Well then wife, it looks like you gotta do what you gotta do.”

     Susan remembered the tactic from Cameron’s bedroom.  Adam was trying to lower her guard through small talk and gestures.  With only one way in and out of the kitchen, now blocked by James; she readied herself for another attack.  Adam started his slow approach, arms still wide.  Susan saw a smile creep its way across Adam’s lips.  Without any other warning, he lunged after her in the same manner as he did in Cameron’s bedroom.

     Susan side stepped her husband clutching a frying pan with her free hand and struck him hard on the shoulder with it while he was off balance.  Adam let out a grunt as he toppled over onto the tile floor.  Susan was on him in an instant, stabbing him savagely in the chest.  Yellow fluid shot out of him in spurts each time she retracted the blade from his body, spraying her in the face.  As the attack continued, she could see that Adam was getting weak.  His arms resembled noodles each time he attempted to push her away.

     “B-b-babe, you’re killing me!”  Adam sputtered.

     She continued to drive the blade deep into his torso.  “Adam just die!  Please die!”  Susan’s rage began to revert into sadness when she saw the last signs of the man who used to be her husband, fade away.  Adam gasped one last time and went limp.

     Susan remained on top of her husband breathing heavily, the knife protruding from Adam’s chest.  The recent events swirled through her mind.  Adam’s transformation, the loss of her son and the possibility of other people experiencing the same thing. What the fuck is going on with the world?

     Adam’s body lurched suddenly.  Susan withdrew the knife from his chest and prepared herself.  A minute passed, Susan; poised with the knife raised high above her head still straddling her husband…waited.  His eyes popped open, blood red orbs looked at her.  He began to gnash and bite at Susan viciously in an attempt to sink his teeth into her flesh.  Although she had the knife at the ready, Adam’s erratic movements made her attempts ineffective but she hacked away at him regardless.  Adam forced his open mouth at her face as she came down hard with the blade.  The large goo covered knife embedded itself within Adam’s forehead.  Within seconds, his body went limp again.  His head fell back to the tile floor with a “thud”, lifeless.  Susan did not want to take any further chances.  She pulled the knife out once more and with all of her remaining strength; she drove the blade deep into his head again, forcing it down until only the hilt was visible.

     Susan fell off Adam and onto the floor next to him, exhausted.  The adrenaline in her small frame diminished quickly while she gathered her breath and organized her thoughts.  When she felt strong enough, she got up from the floor and washed her hands, face and neck in the kitchen sink, determined not to let…whatever fluids covering her body  enter her mouth, nose or any open wounds she might have sustained when she battled Adam.  Once she was satisfied , she picked up the home phone from the floor and placed it to her ear.

      Panting, she spoke. “Hello?”

      The dispatcher in a clear panic responded quickly, “Yes dear, we have units on the way to you right now is everything ok?”

     “Yes, my husband attacked me and well…”

     “I know sweetheart, I heard everything.  I still suggest that you lock yourself up somewhere until police arrive ok?”

     “Yeah, I’ll do that.”  Susan looked at Adam double-checking that he had not moved since she shoved a knife into his head.

     Please stay there Adam.

     “Ok…well I’m Genny if you need to know, with a G.  Call me back if anything else develops.  I’ll be right…er, excuse me sir,” Genny could be heard speaking to an unknown person, “you’re not supposed to be in here, it’s a secured area, I’m gonna need you to lea- wait noooo!”  Genny could be heard screaming loudly through the receiver.

Susan shouted into the phone.  “Genny!?  Genny are you there?  Genny!?”

Susan kept the phone to her ear.  Sounds of a struggle was clear on the other end.  She could faintly hear Genny calling out for help before being cut short by a loud crunching sound.  The same sounds that came from Cameron’s room as Adam was consuming him, biting through bone.  Susan disconnected the call and placed the phone on the counter.  She slumped down into a heap on the floor.  Adam remained as he was, with a mass of foul smelling liquids oozing out of various puncture wounds.

     “What the fuck is happening here?”  She said to herself quietly.  As she contemplated her next course of action, she heard a noise upstairs.  Out of fear of contaminating herself, she snatched a clean knife from the kitchen drawer and proceeded up the stairs.  The sound continued and to Susan, the sound was similar to a person dragging their feet as they walk.  Could someone have snuck into the house while Adam and I fought?  Were the police already here?  She paused briefly at the top of the stairwell assessing her surroundings.  Intent on not being caught off guard as she did with Adam, she gently took off her shoes and eased down the hallway.  It was clear, the source of the noise came from Cameron’s room.  Before she reached the doorway, she steeled her nerve.  She counted to herself, one…two…three and rushed into the bedroom hopefully, she could catch the would-be intruders by surprise.

      “Get out you motherfu-!”  Susan stopped short.  Her eyes overflowed with tears instantly.  She dropped to her knees hard.  The knife slid out of her hands and landed softly on the blood soaked carpet.  Susan remained speechless at the sight before her.  The broken, dismembered and gruesome body of her son Cameron dragged himself toward her.  His eyes were as blood red as Adam’s during his final assault.  Yellow puss like fluid seeped from his injuries, leaving a putrid trail of gore behind him.  Cameron looked at Susan; tacky thick bits of yellow green flesh came out of his mouth as he reached toward her, uttering one word.

     “Ma…ma.”

END 

RIVALRY

     An older man wearing a thick and dirty brown trench coat, a wrinkled button-down shirt and slightly soiled gray pants shambled up to a park bench to sit.  As he plopped down, a cloud of dust erupted from his clothing.  The man leaned back on the bench and took in the scenery.  He watched as ducks swam in the man-made lake a few feet from his seated position.  The sunlight danced joyfully over the waves caused by a slight gust of wind.  The park was nearly empty and he enjoyed that.  He looked over to his left and saw an attractive, curvy woman jogging along the path in front of the bench.  The old man removed a tattered fedora from his head, revealing a thick head of white and surprisingly clean; hair.  He greeted the woman properly and gave her a smile.  The woman, obviously unattracted to the man, nervously waved to him and then picked up her pace, anxious to get away.  He could faintly hear her utter “loser” as she trotted off down the path.  He continued to look at the water.

            About a half hour after the dirty man sat on the bench, a younger man dressed in a flawless black tailored suit approached the bench from the opposite direction of the young woman.  As he approached, the sunlight, which seemed previously to be at one with the lake, began to dance off of his pristine alligator skinned shoes.  He greeted the dirty man and removed his coat, revealing an athletic physique wrapped in a crisp red skin-tight shirt.  He wore no hat, which allowed the wind to play gently with his jet black hair.  The well-dressed man sat down on the bench to the right of the dirty man.  Both looked at the lake for a while.

            “Your late,” the dirty man said dryly.

            “I apologize” said the well-dressed man, “you know traffic is hell coming from my neighborhood,” he rolled up a sleeve slightly, showing a glistening gold watch surrounded in princess cut diamonds. “Besides, I think I made good time, don’t you?”

            The dirty man looked at the well-dressed man, “I suppose traffic is a little hectic, especially these days for you, is business good?”

            “Business is fuckin’ amazing!” The well-dressed man replied, “I got so much inventory, I’m running out of places to put them! But you already know I plan to extend.”

            “I do,” replied the dirty man calmly, “now why don’t you tell me why you wanted to meet.”

            “Straight to the point? Oh, that’s so not like you, but fuck it right?”  The well-dressed man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an old, leather bound book.  The edges of its pages were yellowed and slightly curled.  The spine of the book was worn thin, with thread protruding from various areas.  The well-dressed man leaned back on the bench and crossed his legs, flipping the pages nonchalantly.

            The dirty man raised an eyebrow upon seeing the book, “And what are you doing with that?”

            “The reason for this meeting,” the well-dressed man replied, “people are quite creative.” he closed the book and sat it down between the two of them.  “How is it that you never told them?”

            “Told them what?” the dirty man asked, looking at the reflection of the sun as it slowly began to dip behind the horizon.

            “I have known you for my entire life,” the well-dressed man replied, “we have been through a lot of shit together, why is it that you haven’t told anyone that I’m really your brother?”

            The dirty man looked at the well-dressed man. Both of their eyes locked, the well-dressed man with sharp piercing dark eyes, the dirty man with a weathered and pained look.  The dirty man looked back across the water.  “I did not write the book,” he said plainly “what people write is no concern of mine, nor should it be any concern of yours.”

            “It concerns me a lot!” shouted the well-dressed man. His voice echoed across the park like a gunshot.  He regained his composure and began to look at the ground, once he collected his thoughts, he spoke again.  “This book, and books similar to this have me portrayed like some jealous offspring of yours, when we both know that I helped you every step of the way.  I made everything with you as your brother.  But you, YOU picked THEM over me.  When there was nothing, there was me…. and you.  You have the whole world thinking that I’m nothing! Because of you people hate me…I get blamed for shit that I didn’t have a hand in and to be honest, their hate for ME, fuels my hate for YOU!

            The dirty man sat and thought for a moment.  “I’m sorry that you feel the way you do, but as I said before, I may make many things, but I haven’t wrote or said anything bad about you.  I ask you brother, you say you get blamed for things that you had no dealings in, you mean to tell me that to get to the level of success that you are at right now, your dealings were for the good of mankind?”

            “I’d say so!” the well-dressed man replied quickly “true, lies were told, promises were made that I couldn’t realistically keep, but how can you make an omelet without breaking some eggs?  Although people see us differently though, we are actually very much alike.”  He grinned.

            “Oh?” said the dirty man.

            “Yes,” said the well-dressed man, “look, I started with nothing after having my own brother turn me away and portrayed me like I’m a jealous bitch, so I lied to a few people, made deals with some people and now look at me! I’ve got a booming business! So much inventory I don’t know what to do with em all!”  He picked up the book and patted the top of it with a manicured hand.

     “These are your lies,” he continued, “books like these fill people’s heads with thoughts of you being some kind of hero.  There’s stories about you doing horrific things to people just to “test” them.  In this book you promise to better people’s lives but you have harmed countless people to maintain what you have.  This work of fiction masks your misdeeds. It is written that your supposed to be some great leader, but if you look close enough, people that work for you eventually work for me!  I’ll tell you why they do, because even if I lie, cheat and steal my way to greatness, I give them tangible proof that if they work for me, they get rewarded.  You? Well, they just have to wait for you to get off of your ass to help.  Or you do nothing and they praise your decision making regardless.  Tisk, tisk.  You’re no more than a charlatan!”

            The dirty man’s eyes began to water.  “It’s true,” he exclaimed, “there are things that I have done that I truly regret.  Each day that passes I see more and more people hurt by my actions.  The difference between us brother is that I believe that people will see my actions as a great good for them all.  I want them to heed my words and understand that through me, their worries, pains and frustrations will be resolved.  I cannot deny that I love people so much so that it has damaged my relationship with you and many others like you; however, if you were to join me again, we can right all wrongs, both yours and mine, for the good of all mankind.”

            The well-dressed man chuckled aloud.  “Bro,” he replied smugly, “between the two of us, who looks like they know what the fuck they are doing?”  He got up from the bench and stood in front of the dirty man.  “You could dress like me and live like me any time you want, but instead, you choose to look ragged and depraved.  You’re so ashamed of who you are now that you dress like a damn beggar but you want ME to join YOU?  Above all else brother, you are a businessman, like myself, I learned a lot from watching and studying you.  You know that the path you are on and tactics that you use are bullshit.  So I will provide a counter offer, how about you join me?  I’ll let you keep your space and people will respect you more!  I’ll just want one thing before this…merger…is to take place however.”

            The dirty man cocked his head to the side looking quizzically at the well-dressed man.

            “All I want,” the well-dressed man replied, “is your undying love and loyalty to me.  I will no longer settle for a mere partnership, I want it publicly stated from you that although you will run your “area” (the well-dressed man made air quotes), I have the final say in decisions made.  It seems like a fair offer really, given the condition of the world these days.”  He smiled as he looked down on his seated brother.  “Don’t you agree?”

            This time, the dirty man laughed which caused the well-dressed man to scowl.  The dirty man stood, now face to face with his brother.  “Pledge my loyalty and love to you?  It seems like you want to be treated like a king?”

            “No brother, more like a…..GOD!” the well-dressed man interrupted.

            “Ah!” The dirty man continued, “you always were ambitious, that’s something I admired about you from time to time.  You will never lose my love, which is something that I offer to you in waves.  My loyalty however, is to the people.  I have let them down too many times to hurt them further, so to that request, I say no.  As for this…..”merger”, as you call it; you have proven time and time again that power is something that you should have in moderation.  If I give in to you, I know that the world as I see it, will be driven into lunacy and ruin.  I know my greatest work will be squandered and abused by you.  That is why I say no again to you.”

            The well-dressed man’s cheeks flushed red with anger.  “Fine!”  He shouted, “you have left me no choice but to destroy you and everything you love!  I’m done with this fucking conversation it’s getting me nowhere!  I have tried to reason and bargain with you but you’re too full of your own shit to see what everyone else sees.  I am better than you!  I am better than your precious people!”  The well-dressed man’s hands began to ball into fists as he spoke.

            The dirty man wrapped his arms around his brother and began to hug him tightly.  The well-dressed man did not fight or struggle against him, he simply stood there in his brother’s embrace.  “I hate you,” the well dressed man continued, through clenched teeth, “one day, you will look up and see me standing over you, I promise I will make that day unbearable.”

            The dirty man continued to hold his brother, unbothered by the statement.  “I know you will try your best.”  As soon as the two men separated, the well-dressed man began to walk away.  He stopped for a second and shouted over his shoulder, “the next time I see you it will be war, as I said, I have a large surplus and I will expand the business, once I takeover Heaven my overstock of souls will be taken care of.  Goodbye Jehovah.”  A gaping hole appeared on the sidewalk.  Sulfur and hell flames leapt from the crag violently.  The well-dressed man entered the hole as if he was descending a flight of stairs.

            The dirty man picked up the book his brother had brought to their meeting off of the bench, he slid his hand across the large gold cross on the cover.  The words “THE HOLY BIBLE” stretched across the top of the beaten down book.  The dirty man looked back at where the sidewalk hole was to discover that it had sealed back up and looked as though the concrete was never disturbed.  “Goodbye Lucifer.”  The dirty man said sadly.  He began to read the book as he walked away.

END.