from the sound? There was movement under the covers. Skin rubbed up against mine. I twisted my head to my wife’s side and nudged her on the back, “did you put Jamie back in bed?” The pillows fell off the bed, revealing the sheets had only bunched up and my wife was absent. I grabbed the sheets that had surrounded her and cast them aside. Nothing.
I scrambled back horrified. My back jostled the headboard at the same time I threw my covers off. What laid before me made my mind flip flop. My eyes drooped and my mouth loosed and opened slightly. Spot lighted by the hall’s glow was a stark naked arm and conjoining hand. Its flesh was milky white, its nails long and a grotesquely pale yellow. It had bits of red blanketing its whole. It slid backwards out of view, into the darkness—leaving a light trail of red on the white bedding.
I sat there for a while, saying nothing. I felt so exposed-- coverless, wearing near nothing, without sight into the foreboding blackness at the end of the bed. The rain no longer offered me kind warmth; it was now the dampening background sound trying to mute the sinister scene unfolding.
Then there was a tap on the far wall across the room. Rainbow colors flashed. The room’s darkness was expelled only momentarily, mere seconds. I saw my daughter’s body hanging from the ceiling near the wall, my wife strung up next to her… both were dripping rapidly. They were each swinging slowly from a breeze supplied by the open window. I began to shake. I lifted my hand towards them, fearing any more movement. There was a third figure in the room, one standing at the end of my bed. He was mostly bald with a large grey beard reaching his chest. He stood shirtless and dripping wet—from what, I couldn’t tell. His skin was pale and covered in—the lights stopped and darkness suffocated my sight.
The unknown man eagerly stepped forward into the light. He didn’t blink, didn’t break eye contact and endlessly loomed over the end of my bed.
His cheeks perked up, the smile hidden under the dirty beard, “it’s a shame you woke up.”
I just continued to stare in worsening horror. Jamie… Margret.
“You took my pictures!” The words bolted across the bed to my ears, the voice deflated and stammering. “Why? Why? Why? Why?” he started slapping himself as he spoke. “Why did you do that? Why did you—I had to come inside. Had to come inside, had to come inside. Come inside to see… to see her” His voice gained strength as he jabbed a bloody finger backwards.
Bastard. I hurdled across the bed with enormous force slamming into him. We both hit the wet floor and slid. I was on top of him before he could even move. You worthless scum. He looked up at me and smiled. He let out a loud laugh and held it constant. I raised my arm up high and crashed my fist into his nose. It squished inward with a few pops. The laughter stopped and he struggled wildly, trying to worm his way free. I crashed my fist down again, harder. It connected with his mouth this time and teeth ripped free. He gurgled past blood. My body was filled with rage and hatred. I brought down my fist over and over until it felt heavy. His breaths became shallow now and he no longer struggled.
I wrapped my hands around his throat. His own hands gripped my wrists instantly. They pried and scratched, but I didn’t care. I gritted my teeth and looked into his eyes. My grip closed. His neck made quiet pops and gurgles.
“You piece of dirt,” I hissed behind locked jaws. He fell limp. I spat in his face disgusted. There was a noise at the door. I jerked my head upwards and saw Timothy. He dropped the phone he had pressed to his ear and it shattered into several pieces.
“…dad…” he withdrew from the room into the hallway filled with fear. Fear of death and of my anger. He turned and ran before I could say anything.
I pushed the body away—now disgusted with myself. I jumped up and turned the light on. The image of my wife hanging from the ceiling made my shaking return. She was hog tied and hung by the neck. Her flesh looking like a twisted, mangled ball of clay. I stammered forward. Her perfect body… my wonderful Margret… ruined… dead. There was another tap as Jamie’s foot hit the wall. I looked at her face. My sweetheart… she blinked.
I was frozen for a second, then I ignited with speed. I sprinted to the closet retrieving a hunting knife. I crossed the room quickly and wrapped my arms around Jamie lifting her. I swung the knife hard over her head. It sliced the rope. I did it once more and Jamie fell into my chest. I laid her on the ground turning to my wife. I cut her down and laid her on the floor. The gore made it apparent, however, my beloved wife… my lover… Margret was dead.
I grabbed Jamie’s wrist-- there was a pulse. Please breath baby, please breath. Her eyes were red and sunken in but she managed to shift them to me.
“Daddy…” her lips didn’t move and the words were less than a whisper, “…why didn’t you wake up…” Her eyes went hazy. No, no, no! Don’t do this baby… don’t leave.
“I’m sorry… I’m here. Don’t go. Stay with me.” I shook her by her shoulders, her lifeless body going ragdoll. I shook her harder, tears streaming down my face and landing on her pink pajamas. I moved her enough to trip her shoes again. The lights flickered on then off. She had probably put them on when she heard a noise… the taping.
My arms filled with rage and sorrow again. I let go of my cold daughter and turned to the whoresome half-human inbred behind me. I pulled the corpse to its feet. Running towards the window, I hurled the wasted body at the center of the barrier. The glass shattered, freeing him to the rain. He fell two stories and smacked wet cement.
I fell to my knees at the open window, rain hitting my shoulders. My goosebumps returned. My teardrops soaked the ground below me. A light flashed. Then another, this one blue. My breathing stopped and I shot a glance at my daughter. Jamie laid there quiet. The lights in her shoes off, without life and energy. The walls however still flashed lights, blues and reds. A few seconds past, my brain trying to comprehend without success, then the sirens filled the room. Timmy called the police. Well, I thought—tears pouring again, I saw him again. Below, outside in the rain, a homeless man received a shower for the first time in weeks.
Other titles by this author:
Sickeningly Human: Advena
Aisle 14
Henry Stable
Numb
A Dream to Consider and Letters to the Worlds
Nicholas Blakeman lives in Idaho (USA) with his wife and son. Currently he is enrolled in Idaho State University. He has several other short story publications. He has recently been focusing all his writing on an up and coming epic fantasy. Be sure to read more of this new and promising writer as his career matures and progresses.
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