A Trip Down South 6
I don't know if anyone is reading this but this is the next wee section I've written. After this I start winging it.
I could sense something was wrong as soon as I pulled up at the house.
The windows looked dark and unwelcoming which was odd considering a family of four was supposed to live here. Normally there would be some energy or brightness about the place even with a poltergeist but here, there was nothing but emptiness. I wondered if they had left.
I walked up the pathway with my eyes scanning each window for any sign of life. It was quiet though. I chapped the door sharply with my knuckles and waited patiently. There was definitely a noise from inside but it was a strange sort of squeaking. With a frown, I put my ear closer to the door and listened. It sounded a bit like nails on a chalkboard but turned down in volume.
This family were definitely not here, I thought as I took a step back on the porch. I put my hands on my hips and thought for a minute. Maybe the neighbours will have noticed if they left, chief.
Good point.
I walked across the front of the window, jumped the waist-height, wooden fence and jogged to the front door of the house to the left. I chapped it and this time a worn face with mucky brown eyes appeared through the tiny space that the safety lock allowed to be open. “What do you want?”
“Uh, hi there,” I waved pathetically. I was slightly startled by the hostility that was radiating off this old man. “I was just wonderin’; have the family next door moved?” I jabbed my thumb to the right to indicate who I meant.
“What is it to you boy?”
I searched my creative brain for a decent lie and their names. “I’m Brian’s brother and I was in town so decided t’ look ‘em up but the house looks deserted and no one’s answerin’ the door.”
Judging by the look on the man’s face, I could’ve said any name and he wouldn’t have been any wiser. He growled low in his throat and breathed heavily through his nostrils. “Saw the husband high-tailin’ it in that sports car of his about two days ago. I haven’t seen anyone near there since so I’m thinkin’ your brother’s packed up and left them. High time too, they was always screamin’ over there and causin’ a damn ruckus.”
That doesn’t sound right, chief.
I furrowed my brows slightly as I scratched at the two-day stubble on my jaw. “Is there any point in askin’ if you got a spare key?”
“Not at all,” he coughed gruffly and wiped the back of his hand across his dry mouth. “Try round the back. They always left the door open for that dog.”
Dog was good. A dog meant that I didn’t need to bring in the E.M.F meter and have it whirring nosily every time it picked something up. “Thanks,” I nodded slightly and headed back over the fence. I was aware that the old man with the red tartan shirt was watching out his side window as I made my round the house to the back garden.
The garden was immaculate and decorated with various, brightly coloured toys. I felt in the inside pocket of my jacket for my gun just in case, as I stepped up onto the decking and gazed through the double glass doors that lead to the dining room by the looks of it. The house was dark. I squinted my eyes against the glare of the sun on the door and tried to see any obvious details of a struggle or the rest of the family.
Look at the room divider.
I scanned my eyes over to the archway which separated the lounge and the dining room and groaned. A woman’s, high-heeled foot lay, peeking out at an odd angle on top of a dark stained carpet. “Damn,” I murmured under my breath. I took out the gun in my right hand and held a drawstring bag full of rock salt in the other. I never understood why, but for some reason ghosts and spirits didn’t like salt.
The door was unlocked. Essentially that meant nothing because I had been fully prepared to break in if it had been locked, although I’d probably find a more secluded place to get in where an old man couldn’t stare at me. I heard his screen door shut and expected to see him standing on his own decking, peering over the fence if I turned round.
“You get it open?” he wheezed.
I glanced over and sure enough he was there. “Yeah it’s open,” I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before I took two steps into the house. I grunted at the rotten smell of decay that hung in the air and put my forearm to my nose. “I don’ think she’s gonna be pretty and this sure as hell don’ feel like no ghost.”
I was just about to say that.
I stepped gingerly past the table and took a wide berth around the foot so I could point my gun at her just in case.
Gloria Hardy lay with her glassy eyes wide open and fixated on the door to the hallway, I presumed. Her throat had been cut with something blunt based on the clumsy slashes around the voice box. Her left leg was pulled back at an odd angle which looked like it had dislocated in the move and her right just lay bent slightly with a tan stocking crumpled around her ankle. I grimaced at her blood stained blouse and at her skirt which was wrapped around her hips like a belt. “This is definitely not a ghost.”
When I had just finished my treatment and had been going out with Carter, one of the first demons I had come across was an Incubus and Succubus couple. A woman named Hannah Greene had been my fifth dead body and my first glimpse at the horrors of sexual obsession to the point of violence. She had been raped over and over again with the obvious trauma of an Incubus attack and her body mutilated, probably by the Succubus. I never asked before I shot her in the head.
So Mrs Hardy was not my first rape victim and certainly not my first murder victim.
I swallowed hard as memories surfaced of the murders I had committed by my own hand.
It surprises me that you’re not more disturbed by the way she’s been left.
“What do you mean?” I asked, angling my head to see if I could see any other marks on her that would point to an Incubus attack. They were right bastards as well so I prayed I didn’t find anything.
She’s sprawled with her legs wide open; you can see fucking everything chief and you don’t even care. I can’t even feel any nausea in your gut.
“What can I say? This isn’t my first time,” I mumbled absently as I bent down to close her eyes.
It doesn’t matter. Humans feel remorse at things like this and you feel nothing. You remind me of a demon, chief, more and more each day. Maybe you’re turning into me.
“No, you’ve already tried that act,” I snapped. “Don’ get anymore damn ideas or I’ll yank you out my head myself and send you right back to Hell.”
I’m only asking, chief. Personally I would’ve made a bigger mess.
I could sense his grin and I didn’t even need that to imagine what he would do and how happy he would be doing it because I’d done it. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t in control, it was still my body and I was somewhere in my head watching it all unfold helplessly. “Once you’ve seen the things I have, you get used t’ stuff like this. Yeah, it’s horrible and I hate that it’s happened but it has and all I can do is kill whatever did it. It’s not my fault this has happened.”
If you hadn’t gone out last night we would’ve been here earlier.
I scoffed at the attempt to guilt trip me. “Oh yeah, not takin’ into account here that Grandad next door said it had been two days since he’d seen anyone and she’s definitely not just died.” I pushed a beanbag with the toe of my shoe before looking at the hall door.
As soon as I opened the door I instantly regretted it. Instead of leading to the hall like I thought, it went into the kitchen. There was blood all over the pristine white surfaces in a sort of spray pattern. I looked up at the ceiling fan and two children - who can’t have been older than eight - hung lifelessly with extension wires wrapped around their necks.
I felt the bile rising in my throat as I stumbled backwards in the lounge again. I tripped over my boots, nearly falling head first into the T.V. before I managed to get out of the house and relax my throat muscles. I vomited black coffee onto the grass at the end of the decking and tried to ignore the laughter in my head.
God, who in hell could do that to children?
I could give you a list.
With shaking hands, I tried to pull out my mobile phone to dial the emergency services but I just couldn’t do it.
“What’s wrong boy?” the old man from over the fence barked. “Is everything okay?”
I remembered my lie to him and put on an act. “They...they’re all dead,” I stuttered and watched his eyes widen with shock. “Murdered.”
Damn, I had no idea what to do right now.
I could sense something was wrong as soon as I pulled up at the house.
The windows looked dark and unwelcoming which was odd considering a family of four was supposed to live here. Normally there would be some energy or brightness about the place even with a poltergeist but here, there was nothing but emptiness. I wondered if they had left.
I walked up the pathway with my eyes scanning each window for any sign of life. It was quiet though. I chapped the door sharply with my knuckles and waited patiently. There was definitely a noise from inside but it was a strange sort of squeaking. With a frown, I put my ear closer to the door and listened. It sounded a bit like nails on a chalkboard but turned down in volume.
This family were definitely not here, I thought as I took a step back on the porch. I put my hands on my hips and thought for a minute. Maybe the neighbours will have noticed if they left, chief.
Good point.
I walked across the front of the window, jumped the waist-height, wooden fence and jogged to the front door of the house to the left. I chapped it and this time a worn face with mucky brown eyes appeared through the tiny space that the safety lock allowed to be open. “What do you want?”
“Uh, hi there,” I waved pathetically. I was slightly startled by the hostility that was radiating off this old man. “I was just wonderin’; have the family next door moved?” I jabbed my thumb to the right to indicate who I meant.
“What is it to you boy?”
I searched my creative brain for a decent lie and their names. “I’m Brian’s brother and I was in town so decided t’ look ‘em up but the house looks deserted and no one’s answerin’ the door.”
Judging by the look on the man’s face, I could’ve said any name and he wouldn’t have been any wiser. He growled low in his throat and breathed heavily through his nostrils. “Saw the husband high-tailin’ it in that sports car of his about two days ago. I haven’t seen anyone near there since so I’m thinkin’ your brother’s packed up and left them. High time too, they was always screamin’ over there and causin’ a damn ruckus.”
That doesn’t sound right, chief.
I furrowed my brows slightly as I scratched at the two-day stubble on my jaw. “Is there any point in askin’ if you got a spare key?”
“Not at all,” he coughed gruffly and wiped the back of his hand across his dry mouth. “Try round the back. They always left the door open for that dog.”
Dog was good. A dog meant that I didn’t need to bring in the E.M.F meter and have it whirring nosily every time it picked something up. “Thanks,” I nodded slightly and headed back over the fence. I was aware that the old man with the red tartan shirt was watching out his side window as I made my round the house to the back garden.
The garden was immaculate and decorated with various, brightly coloured toys. I felt in the inside pocket of my jacket for my gun just in case, as I stepped up onto the decking and gazed through the double glass doors that lead to the dining room by the looks of it. The house was dark. I squinted my eyes against the glare of the sun on the door and tried to see any obvious details of a struggle or the rest of the family.
Look at the room divider.
I scanned my eyes over to the archway which separated the lounge and the dining room and groaned. A woman’s, high-heeled foot lay, peeking out at an odd angle on top of a dark stained carpet. “Damn,” I murmured under my breath. I took out the gun in my right hand and held a drawstring bag full of rock salt in the other. I never understood why, but for some reason ghosts and spirits didn’t like salt.
The door was unlocked. Essentially that meant nothing because I had been fully prepared to break in if it had been locked, although I’d probably find a more secluded place to get in where an old man couldn’t stare at me. I heard his screen door shut and expected to see him standing on his own decking, peering over the fence if I turned round.
“You get it open?” he wheezed.
I glanced over and sure enough he was there. “Yeah it’s open,” I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before I took two steps into the house. I grunted at the rotten smell of decay that hung in the air and put my forearm to my nose. “I don’ think she’s gonna be pretty and this sure as hell don’ feel like no ghost.”
I was just about to say that.
I stepped gingerly past the table and took a wide berth around the foot so I could point my gun at her just in case.
Gloria Hardy lay with her glassy eyes wide open and fixated on the door to the hallway, I presumed. Her throat had been cut with something blunt based on the clumsy slashes around the voice box. Her left leg was pulled back at an odd angle which looked like it had dislocated in the move and her right just lay bent slightly with a tan stocking crumpled around her ankle. I grimaced at her blood stained blouse and at her skirt which was wrapped around her hips like a belt. “This is definitely not a ghost.”
When I had just finished my treatment and had been going out with Carter, one of the first demons I had come across was an Incubus and Succubus couple. A woman named Hannah Greene had been my fifth dead body and my first glimpse at the horrors of sexual obsession to the point of violence. She had been raped over and over again with the obvious trauma of an Incubus attack and her body mutilated, probably by the Succubus. I never asked before I shot her in the head.
So Mrs Hardy was not my first rape victim and certainly not my first murder victim.
I swallowed hard as memories surfaced of the murders I had committed by my own hand.
It surprises me that you’re not more disturbed by the way she’s been left.
“What do you mean?” I asked, angling my head to see if I could see any other marks on her that would point to an Incubus attack. They were right bastards as well so I prayed I didn’t find anything.
She’s sprawled with her legs wide open; you can see fucking everything chief and you don’t even care. I can’t even feel any nausea in your gut.
“What can I say? This isn’t my first time,” I mumbled absently as I bent down to close her eyes.
It doesn’t matter. Humans feel remorse at things like this and you feel nothing. You remind me of a demon, chief, more and more each day. Maybe you’re turning into me.
“No, you’ve already tried that act,” I snapped. “Don’ get anymore damn ideas or I’ll yank you out my head myself and send you right back to Hell.”
I’m only asking, chief. Personally I would’ve made a bigger mess.
I could sense his grin and I didn’t even need that to imagine what he would do and how happy he would be doing it because I’d done it. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t in control, it was still my body and I was somewhere in my head watching it all unfold helplessly. “Once you’ve seen the things I have, you get used t’ stuff like this. Yeah, it’s horrible and I hate that it’s happened but it has and all I can do is kill whatever did it. It’s not my fault this has happened.”
If you hadn’t gone out last night we would’ve been here earlier.
I scoffed at the attempt to guilt trip me. “Oh yeah, not takin’ into account here that Grandad next door said it had been two days since he’d seen anyone and she’s definitely not just died.” I pushed a beanbag with the toe of my shoe before looking at the hall door.
As soon as I opened the door I instantly regretted it. Instead of leading to the hall like I thought, it went into the kitchen. There was blood all over the pristine white surfaces in a sort of spray pattern. I looked up at the ceiling fan and two children - who can’t have been older than eight - hung lifelessly with extension wires wrapped around their necks.
I felt the bile rising in my throat as I stumbled backwards in the lounge again. I tripped over my boots, nearly falling head first into the T.V. before I managed to get out of the house and relax my throat muscles. I vomited black coffee onto the grass at the end of the decking and tried to ignore the laughter in my head.
God, who in hell could do that to children?
I could give you a list.
With shaking hands, I tried to pull out my mobile phone to dial the emergency services but I just couldn’t do it.
“What’s wrong boy?” the old man from over the fence barked. “Is everything okay?”
I remembered my lie to him and put on an act. “They...they’re all dead,” I stuttered and watched his eyes widen with shock. “Murdered.”
Damn, I had no idea what to do right now.