A Story by "Little" Curtis Graham
God, it was quiet this morning.
He sat up, rolled out of bed, picked up the clothes that he had worn yesterday -- a pair of Jnco blue jeans (which were much too big for him, his mom had a habit of telling him), and a Lifeforms tee-shirt, the ones with the animals obliterating soccer balls, footballs, etc. - and stepped out to welcome the morning. But where was everybody? The house seemed a little too quiet, and Adam had discovered why: the house was empty. At least he thought it was.
"Where is everyone?" Adam walked through the entryway that connected the den and the kitchen and opened the garage door. The cars were still there.
"Mom?!"
No answer.
"Mom! Are you in here? Mom?"
Complete and utter silence. He walked back through the kitchen and into the den.
"MOM!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. What is going on here? He thought.
Everyday - until today - Adam's mother and sister were always up and ready to go when he was just starting to wave off the after-images of the dream (and sometimes dreams) from that night. "The early bird catches the worm!" his mother would tell him when he strolled out into the kitchen to make himself some quick breakfast; he was always being rushed to school, and didn't like to eat the "breakfast" there, so some toast suited him just fine; no early bird was he. They were always on time, never failed: woke up at six, took a shower by seven - both of them (Adam found this a little strange, and somewhat disgusting) - ready to go by seven-thirty... everyday. It was as if they were on some kind of timed schedule that he himself had never seemed to pick up on... until today. Today, the timer on that schedule seemed to have stopped.
"Mom? Are you awake?"
He tip-toed up to his mother's bedroom door and lightly rapped on it.
"Mom? You awake?"
No answer. This time he pounded on it. "MOM!" he yelled. Still no response. He tried for the knob. It turned easily to the left. Her room was unlocked. This might have seemed normal to anyone else that might have been there with him, but Adam knew his mother, knew her all too well. She never left her bedroom door unlocked. And she never overslept like this - if that was what she was doing.
Adam pushed his mother's bedroom door open. The sheets were pulled back, possessing that slept-in, somewhat used look. His mother had certainly been here, but where was she now?
"Hey, Mom, you in here?" No response. His mother wasn't in here. Odd. Very odd.
If Mom's not here, is Nicholette gone too?
He closed her door and walked down the hall to Nicky's closed door. But, it wasn't closed not all the way. It was ajar.
"Nicky? You 'sleep?"
He pushed her door all the way open and was greeted with a room just as empty as his mother's. Her bed also had that slept-in look, as if she had simply got up and left, not bothering to make it. But that just wasn't Nicky. She was a neat freak, like her mother. Everything had to be in its place, on time, on schedule.
So why was everything so out of whack? Where were his mother and sister? They hadn't just up and left. The cars were still in the garage, and they never walked anywhere, whether alone or together - they always had this fear of being picked up by some pervert who just wanted to take them to his cabin out in the woods and get himself off by doing horrible, nasty, sexual things to them. A cheap thrill, so to speak.
So where were they?
Adam strolled into the den and sat down on the couch, which faced the television. Sat, and thought recapped. He could remember seeing them go to bed last night - at ten, always at ten - while he stayed up to watch his favorite show: reruns of Married with Children. Al Bundy's wisecracks and one-liners always cracked him up, especially when they were directed towards Amanda Bearse, who played Marcy Darcy, the next-door neighbor. He could remember falling asleep to the slight drone of Nicky's light snoring. He found the sound quite relaxing. Relaxing enough to put him to sleep, that is. Everything had seemed to fit into place. Everything was on time, on schedule.
So what had changed while they slept? What had caused that mental timer of his mother and sister's schedule stop? What strange event - if that was what it was - had happened last night, or rather, earlier this morning?
Why was all this happening in the first place? Adam didn't know the answer to any of these questions. But he wanted, no, needed, to find out. And he planned to do just that. Adam wasn't sure where or how to start his search for the answers to his questions, but -
(Bill, what about Bill???)
Yeah, Bill Freeman. He was a good place to start. Bill was Adam's mother's "friend" and "co-worker" - a real people-person. If anybody knew where is mother was, Bill was it; they had met - or so Adam had been told - at a manager's party that his mother's manager had thrown around Christmas Eve three or four years ago. She had been sitting at the bar, putting away martini after martini. The bartender was a tall, burly man with a week-old beard on his square jaw. He spoke with a slight southern draw as if he had spent enough time in the south to pick up the accent, but not enough to learn it.
"Rough night, huh?"
His mother had looked up - you had to, if you wanted to make eye contact - and looked into his large, round face. "Yeah, it's pretty bad."
"Well, why don't you tell me all 'bout it?"
His mom had offered this man a small grin on the corner of her mouth and said: "I don't even know your name, mister."
Her words came out slurred-drunk speech. The man smiled at this.
"My name is Bill. Bill Freeman." He stuck his free hand out, inviting hers for a friendly shake. She embraced his hand with hers. "Jenna Nosper. Nice to meet you."
Since that night, they had become closer and closer. She always told Adam that their relationship was strictly work related (she found out a few days after the party that he worked at the same company as she), that they were "just friends." Adam knew better than that; friends didn't go to dinner at each other's house, and stay until about three in the morning. Not on a school night. Not when you have two kids at home. Adam admitted that he liked to be treated as an adult - to be treated like he was responsible - and he was - but his mother thought otherwise; and what she said, goes. So, he'd be stuck watching Nichole with strict rules for everything, and she'd go out with her new friend; while they had to be in bed at ten, eleven at the latest.
But Adam generally liked Bill - for the most part. He always treated Adam with respect, and Adam respected him for that. Why not call him? Adam picked up the phone, put the receiver up to his ear, and was greeted with no dial tone. No sound came from the phone, none at all.
What is going on here?
He checked the phone-jack in the wall. It was separated no... not separated... it was obliterated. It was torn to shreds... as if something had chewed on it - for weeks. It was entirely useless. Something had torn the thing from the wall and destroyed it.
"What in the BLUE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?" he screamed. Mother and sister: gone. Phone: dead... ripped to shreds, to be exact. Cars: still in the garage, untouched. So, what, just what, was going on around here? He didn't know, but he just had to find out, and soon. This was getting weirder by the minute. By the second. Was the front door locked? He had made sure that he had locked it last night, but... with all of this going on, who knew for sure?
Better check it out, he thought. Adam stalked over to the front door and looked at the bolt. Locked. Okay, now what? Nobody could have broken in, through the front door, that is. What about the door leading out to the deck? And what about the windows? Could somebody, could anybody, have gotten into the house through these means? Sure, somebody could, but Adam didn't think that anybody actually did. Why would they? The only things missing were his mother and sister. The only thing out of place - literally - was the phone cord, and, from the looks of it, it would never have another place -- or phone jack -- to be put into again.
"I need to lie down," he muttered. "Lie down and think."
(Added 12/6/01)
He slumbered over to the couch and fell back on it. What could have happened? Adam asked himself. The power wasn't out, since his alarm had worked. But had that to do with anything?
"Maybe they were abducted by aliens."
Yeah, like that really happened. God, you're an idiot, you know that?
"Shut up."
Why? Tell me one good reason why I should-
"Just... please..."
Seems to me like I'm the only one making any progress OR sense. Between the two of us, I mean.
Adam placed his index and middle fingers on opposite sides if his temples and began to massage them, moving them in clockwise motions. He couldn't remember exactly when, or why, he started to hear the voice that seemed to occupy his mind, but he argued with him - no, it - since he could remember. He hated it; loathed it, as a matter of fact. It criticized his every action, no matter what the cause. If he helped someone carry their books to class: 'Why are you helping this waste of space out? What have they ever done for us?'
When he could find a time and place to be alone, Adam argued with it. Sometimes, people would overhear him "talking" to himself, and laugh at him for it, calling him such names as dork, moron, weirdo, and the dreaded S-word: schizo.
(Added 12/7/01)
Adam didn't enjoy being called these names, and hated it even more because of this. So, "they" argued. And the funny thing was, in the end, it, that voice, actually did seem to make some sense, although Adam would never admit this to anyone, not even himself.
Only one person - if you could consider it a person - knew of Adam's secrets and desires and emotions, both the homo- and heterotypic ones. And it would never tell. In all truth, it couldn't tell, and Adam was extremely grateful for that.
Earth to Adam; wake up, Adam!
He stopped massaging his temples, and closed his eyes. "Sorry; spaced out there for a min-."
Yeah, I'm very aware of what you were doing, Adam: avoiding, escaping, whatever you physical beings want to call it. I call it hiding.
"What are you talking about now?"
You know damn well just what I'm talking about, Adam. You can't figure what what's going on or what to do about it, so you run and hide in the corridors, chasms, tunnels, and cul-de-sacs of you're mind... with me. You come running to me for help.
"No!"
Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes! You can't deny it, Adam. Remember? You can't hide anything from me. I see all. I am the one that has control, not you. You, my dear friend-,"
"I am not you're friend."
"-are simply a transportation device that I use freely and effortlessly to get where I want to go and to get what I want to get."
(Added 12/8/01)
"Not right now. Please, not right now." Adam slowly opened his eyes. "Listen: I say, we call a truce - just this once, mind you - and we work together to figure this out. What do you say?"
"Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore."
-what the hell does that mean?
Oh, so now you want to speak to me "face-to-face," huh?
-yeah, I guess so. Just answer my question: what the hell did that mean?
All I'm going to tell you is to pay attention in English class; you might learn something. I did.
-English class? ... oh-
"-crap! What time is it?" He leaped off of the couch and ran into his room, instinctively searching for his alarm clock. The bright, red, digital numbers read: 7:42.
"Great!"
What? Play around too long, eh, Adam? Why even go to school today?
"Because-!"
Because why? Look around us, Adam. Just look!
He did.
Now I don't know about you, but I do believe we have a slight situation on our, or rather, on your hands. What do you think?
"You know what?"
What, Adam?
-you're right. We do have a situation, don't we?
We most certainly do, Adam. I think I'll take you up on that offer.
-what offer?
The truce. For once, in your pathetic little life, I am going to agree with you, and actually work cooperatively with you, because that's not a half-bad idea.
Adam smiled at this, and, had the voice in his head a face, I think it would done the same thing.
(Added 12/9/01)
Now then, lets put together the facts-
-you mean the clues?
If you prefer that term, than, yes, lets put together the clues, and see if they lead us anywhere.
-sounds good-
"-to me."
Adam walked back out into the den and sat down on the couch, again.
Alright, then, what do we have so far?
"Well..."
Talk to me in here; it's ever so much easier.
"Okay..."
-... better?
Yes. So much better. Now, what do we have so far to aid us on our quest for the truth? What do we have to lead us to the answers that we seek?
-well... Mom and Nicky are missing, the cars are still in the garage, and every door and window are locked from the inside.
Are you one hundred percent positive about the doors and windows?
-yes.
How do you know that all of them are locked?
-I just know. I can't explain how I do; I just do.
Adam closed his eyes.
So, is it suffice enough to say that no one broke in and kidnapped them?
-yeah... I guess so. But, why would anyone kidnap them and not me as well?
My point exactly. So, they weren't kidnapped. Did they, perhaps, just leave without telling you that they were doing so?
-no! I know them. They would never do that.
Okay. They didn't leave and leave you unaware. So where are they?
Adam stopped for a moment, trying to think.
"They-,"
-they would have to be here.
Correct. So, the question that we now have to answer is: are they in the house?
-no. They are definitely not inside the house.
So... they would have to be...?
-out-
"-side!" He jumped off of the couch and ran to the shoe rack, behind the front door. He bent to pick up his Air Jordans, and stopped.
-wait a minute. First of all, why would they be outside? And second of all, how could they both have gotten outside, and the doors still be locked?
Are the keys still hanging up?
-let me go check.
Adam picked up his shoes and carried them with him to the garage door. On the wall to the left of the door, there lies a key rack. And on this key rack, there lies a few sets of keys.
-yeah, the keys are still hanging up. What are you trying to get at?
That somebody inside the house did this. Somebody inside of this very house is responsible for their mysterious disappearance.
-but, but... I'm the only other person in this house! Just what the hell are you saying!? That I got rid of them? Huh!? Is that what you're trying to tell me!?
Yes! How else could they have just up and disappeared!? Tell me that!
-but... what... I mean, why...?
Let's find them before we do anything drastic, okay?
-yeah...
"... okay... fine by me," Adam muttered, "where do we look first?"
Let's try the back yard first.
Adam stopped, took a minute to put his sneakers on, and headed back to the den.
"I'm still trying to figure out why I'm still listening to you, after what you're accusing me of... god, you're really bold, aren't you?"
Well, it's the only thing that makes any sense to me.
"I really don't give a hairy rat's ass what you - wait a minute."
Such language! You didn't learn it from yours truly.
Adam bent to re-tie his shoestrings, and, having done that, reached up and unlocked the deadbolts on the back door: "You better not be leading me on a wild goose chase. Or else."
'Or else' what?
"Nothing." He opened the door, squinting as the early morning rays beamed down upon his dark-adjusted eyes. After a few moments (long enough for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the outside world), Adam ventured out onto the deck.
The house was a two-story Victorian, with the first floor being below ground level, and the second level making up the living quarters. They had stored all unwanted items, such as boxes and such, in the garage, and had no use for the underground floor. It wasn't a basement, just an un-used, forgotten floor. The real estate agents never mention this lower level, and nobody ever cared to ask. So, it was virtually forgotten.
Adam had stumbled upon the entry to this forgotten floor just last summer, while he was mowing the back yard.
"What...?"
Adam let the lever fall back into place, shutting the motor off. His mother and sister were out visiting Bill and his daughter, Maria, who was about the same age as Nicky. (They'd gotten along since they'd first met, and every time it was Bill's weekend with his daughter, Jenna and Nicky always made an attempt for them to get together for a few hours.) Therefore, his mother wouldn't wonder why he had pre-maturely cut off the lawnmower, which meant that he could explore for a little while, as long as he finished cutting the grass before they returned, and they had only been gone an hour, two at the most. That left him plenty of time, if they kept on schedule, and stayed there until about nine o'clock that night.
Why are you showing me this memory?
-because I think that it may help us.
Then, by all means, please, continue.
He
(-I)
wondered over to the small hole in the side of the house and peered inside. It was as black as pitch, and his curiosity grew.
'Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.'
-will you shut up?
Sure, sure. Please continue.
Then fence surrounding the backyard was as high as the deck, so no one would see him. Knowing this, Adam ventured in. He had to duck to get his entire body through, but once he did, there was enough room for him to stand up with ease. The only light was behind him, and this aroused his curiosity even more.
Curiousity killed the cat.
-but satisfaction brought him back.
"Let's go down there, again."
Sounds good to me. Lead the way.
Adam walked down the thirteen or so steps connecting the deck and the grass, and walked over to the hole... for the last time.
What's in there? What was in there?
-I'll tell you on the way.
Adam lowered his head and stepped inside the black tunnel. The year or so that he had spent avoiding this exact spot hadn't changed it much.
-let's go.
After you, Adam.
Adam began to walk forward, remembering on the way. Then, the first time that he had begun to explore, he wasn't sure exactly sure where he was headed. Now, the last time that he explored that hole-in-the-wall, he knew exactly where he was going, and he told it about his first venture, Adam, unknowingly, began to understand.
-I was curious, as most humans are when they discover something unknown to them, and, as most humans also do, I decided to check it out. I began to walk forward, much as we are doing now, even though the only light was behind me, and, although the first few feet were in front of me where alluminated by the sunlight light, I still had a hard time seeing. I felt my way about the wall, which was a bit damp, probably from years of abuse from the rainfall. I guess it was brick, but I couldn't tell for sure.
He reached a point where he seemed to stop and think.
I believe we turn left here, Adam.
Adam turned left, walked forward, and continued the memory.
-I reached that left turn, and fell down. At first, I cried out, more in surprise than fear, but I quickly recovered, and I stood up, dusted myself off, found the wall, and followed it, this time heading left. Much as we are now, I walked for what seemed like an eternity. It was, literally, so dark that I couldn't see my own hand in front of me. Just like it is right now.
Well, dear Adam, in the recesses of your mind, it's always dark, so I'm used to not being able to see my own hand in front of me, so to speak.
He reached another turning point, this time right. Only this right-turn was a set of steep stairs that lead down into the depths of darkness.
-I, eventually, reached this exact point, and I could feel the presence of the stairs, which made me descend them with extreme caution. As you can tell, they were, and still are, impossibly steep, and, had I fallen down them, I wouldn't be here to do it again.
I am the one who controls your mind. I made sure you didn't fall.
-yes, but I control my memories.
You're not very good at it.
-what do you mean? Just what do
"-you mean?"
You'll see that I have power over a lot more than you think, but, for now, let's just get on with the story, as we are nearing the end.
-I, or rather, you, descended the stairs one at a time. There are no rails, as you and I can see, so I had to be extra careful then, more than now, seeing as how I remember them.
He followed the stairs down, down, impossibly down, until, at length, they stepped on level ground. Adam didn't stop when he reached the end of the stairs, just continued on, nearing not only the end of his journey, but the end of his (and this) tale.
-I didn't know it then, but I do now. This tunnel, corridor, whatever it is, leads to a large, open room with a few halls extending from it. When we reached the entry, if my memory serves me, there should be a light switch to my right. I have no idea how it got there/here, or why, but it's there just the same. And it works, or at least it did then. We'll find out if it still does. In just a few moments, we'll see.
They - for Adam and it have truly become one and the same - reached the entry to the living room on this forgotten floor. They felt the wall to their right, searching for the switch. After what seemed like
(hoursminutesDAYS?)
they found it, and flipped it up. Dull, dying light slowly began to fill the room. Adam covered his eyes until they adjusted, and there was slight pain in the back of his head, but that quickly faded.
"I'll be damned, it still works."
They walked in and looked around, remembering. To their left, a hall lead to a dead end, with two or three doors on either side.
-inside the first door, which is on the left, I saw an empty room, save for a few, dry, dead leaves and some bugs. The second door, also on the left, was exactly the same. The third door, and the last, located on the right, had a few discarded bottles of alcohol, probably left there by winos looking for shelter during a storm.
On the wall in front of them, a hall lead to a smaller room, which had but one solitary door. Adam walked to it.
-I don't remember this.
Oh, but I do. Open it and let's find out.
-how do you know what's behind it?
Just open it! The anticipation is killing me!
"I wish," he muttered. Adam opened the door, and saw another set of steep stairs, also leading down. The light in the living room didn't help out much in the lighting department, but he ventured down nonetheless.
"Where does-..."
-...this take us?
To the answers.
These stairs were much longer than the first, and Adam soon found himself enveloped in darkness once again. He felt his way down along the wall, and, after what seemed an eternity, he, once again, stepped on level ground.
Walk a few yards until you find a door.
Adam began to walk. After about twenty or so yards, he stopped in front of an ancient door. It was, perhaps, ten or eleven feet high, give or take an inch, and was carved in the old gothic style.
-what's behind this?
The truth, dear, dear Adam, the truth.
Adam reached forward, searching for the knob, found it, and turned it. He pulled, and the door gave a little, but not much.
-Jesus!, it's heavy!
Just keep at it. It'll open; it did last night.
-what?
Everything will explain itself after you open the door.
He grasped the doorknob once more and pulled. He pulled as hard as he could, exerting all of his strength. Eventually, the door slid open enough to allow him to squeeze through.
Tell me, Adam, why did you avoid this floor for so long?
-I... I...didn't want to hang around it because I was afraid that Mom or Nicky would discover it too. I wanted it to be my secret place.
On your immediate right, there's another light switch. Flip it.
He did.
Now look, Adam. LOOK!
Adam's eyes didn't take as long to adjust, and what he saw horrified him. They were in a large, square room, and in the center of this room, hanging from the ceiling, where three large meat hooks, such as butchers use. And from these hooks hung three bodies - three familiar bodies.
-oh
"...my God..."
Witness... your handiwork, Adam
They remained stationary, for there was no wind to blow them to and fro. The first body was Nicholette, stripped, bloody - hung on the hook by the nape of her neck, which, by now, had begun the process of tearing off from the rest of the body. The second, his mother, was done in the same fashion: stripped, bloody, and hung by the nape of her neck. The only thing still connecting her head to her shoulders was a single, twisted strand of muscle. Her eyes were opened wide, her mouth agape.
"...oh my..."
-...God...
The third corpse was Mr. People-person himself, Bill Freeman. He was stripped and bloody as well, but was hung by the back of his head. Unlike the others, his naked feet rested upon the ground, where a puddle of his coagulating blood had formed.
He was a bit heavier than the others, so, his head was as high as we could manage.
-we!? I didn't do this!
Oh, but you did, and let me tell you why. Years of verbal abuse from your peers; years of disrespect from your mother; it all got to me in the end.
-you? Got to you!?
Yes! For years I sat back and watched them walk all over you and I, and what did you do about it? Nothing! You see, Adam, for a long, long time I let you have control over what you did. But last night... oh, last night... that was the last straw.
-what did you do?
Exactly what you see before you. I probed in your memory files, and found this place. As I remember us coming here, I noticed the door leading to the stairs that brought us here. You, however, did not. This place was perfect for the plan that I had concocted.
-why!?
Your mother and Bill arrived last night after they had gone out to dinner. On a school night. I could feel the rage building up inside of you, and I took over. While they slept, I had you kill them; stabbing via a kitchen knife for Nicky, and, did you know that spraying insecticide down Bill and your mother's open mouths works nicely?
-you're a sick, sadistic bastard.
You dragged them down here, and hung them upon these hooks.
-did you put the hooks in here too?
No. I don't know how or why they're here, much as I don't know how or why that door is there either. And it doesn't matter, for they've served their purpose, much as you've served yours.
-what about the phone-jack? And why didn't I remember?
I knew that this job would tire you out, so you would sleep like a log. While you slept, I went in and deleted any recent memories you might have, such as a few hours ago. Before you went to bed, I had you take the cord and stick it in the food disposal. It's a wonder you didn't get electrocuted or something.
-why?
When you woke up, you did exactly what I had figured you would do: discover you mother and sister were missing, then try and call someone.
-but... why wasn't I able to stop you?
I told you that I had control over a lot more than you think.
-no...
"...no!"
Adam turned and ran, heading for the stairs, heading for daylight.
What the hell do you think you're doing?
"I'm getting out of here, and I'm going to make you pay!"
One detail I forgot to mention...
Adam bounded up the stairs, getting half-way, then suddenly stopped.
I can control your entire bodily functions.
He began to lean backwards.
"What are-..."
-... you doing!?
What I should have done a long time ago.
Adam leaned back a bit more, and tumbled down the stairs, breaking his legs, his right arm, and his neck. He landed at the foot of the stairs, coughing up blood.
"...why..."
'I'm alive / for you I'm awake / because of you I'm alive / for you I'm awake...'
-...please... no more riddles...
You have no one to blame but yourself. Through your actions, or lackthereof, you have created this...
-...what...?
It closed Adam's eyes.
'Welcome... to Hell.'
And with that, lying in a puddle of his own blood and a pool of his own inner sins, Adam Nosper died, that inner voice of reason, which was his own demon, laughing and enjoying every second.
Copyright 2001, "Little" Curtis Graham
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