Journals of Horror: Found Fiction Read online

  February 11th, 2013

  What a shitty day this was. It was my first day at work following my arrest. Cheryl, the stupid twat who sits on her fat ass behind the reception desk , gave me the evil eye every time I passed within her orbit, which was fairly often since she's the size of a moon.

  The guys are avoiding me, too. I guess nothing travels as fast as bad news, huh? That self-righteous asshole Jenkins acted as if I'd crawled out from under a rock. This is a guy who fully bailed on his wife after she developed breast cancer and ran off with her younger, hotter sister and he's passing judgment on me? What hypocritical bullshit.

  Then I come home and Krissy and Mickey are having dinner. They didn't even bother fixing me anything. Here I am, working my ass off to bring some real money into this house and I can't even get her to make dinner for me. I demanded to know why and she told me (tearfully, of course. Everything is tearful with Krissy. Everything. She probably sheds a tear for each tampon she flushes down the toilet. I sometimes wonder if that's why the kid's real father ran out on them) that her son's pet hamster Maestro died today, apparently from “ill health brought on by shock”. I don't know what part of her ass Krissy pulled that wannabe vet-speak out of, but that's what she said.

  So , basically, she's standing there telling me that I didn't get dinner as punishment for kicking the kid's hamster ball across the room while the hamster was in it, which is what sparked the fight Thursday night that led to me getting arrested in the first place. Y'know, it's hard to get excited about seriously trying to do better when I keep getting punished for the same shit over and over, no matter how hard I'm trying to make it right.

  But I handled it properly. I didn't say anything. I just rolled my eyes and walked out of the room.

  February 13h,2013

  A better day today. Chad Rhea, the guy I share a cubicle with at work, apparently decided that I was still worth talking to. He asked me what I was doing for lunch. We ended up eating at our usual place, Barney's Bar and Grill, as if nothing had happened. If Chad had an opinion on what's going on with me, he didn't share it. Hell, the subject never came up. We talked about football, specifically whether the Dolphins will make the playoffs next year.

  Later- Krissy apologized when I got home . She said she had been thinking about the other day and felt guilty because she's not giving me a chance to prove I'm serious about dealing with my anger. She's still mad about what I did to the rat (what fourteen year old owns a hamster? Hasn't this kid ever heard of sports?), but wants to be fair. I thanked her for that . To my surprise, I actually meant it.

  February 14th, 2013

  Came home with a dozen roses and a stuffed bear for Krissy. She really liked them. It actually felt good to see her smile like that again. Even the kid seemed to be less whiny. I asked him what had him in such a good mood (for him) and he told me that he knew things were finally going to change for the better around here. The optimism surprised me. Maybe he's finally growing up.

  A pretty good day, all things considered. One odd thing, though- I can't find my old blue sweatshirt. I thought I had left it in the bedroom, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Oh well. It'll turn up.

  February 16th, 2013

  Met with Doctor Kourakos today. My first official session. He asked to see this journal and I was nervous as hell handing it to him, especially with some of the things I wrote earlier this week. But I didn't want to cross anything out or erase anything, because then he'd think I'm hiding something or holding back. Censored Journal + Anger Issues = Not good. It turned out that he was happy with what he read. He even complemented me on my honesty. I thought he'd be pissed about the “quack” and “overpaid bullshit artists” cracks, but he said he hears it all the time. What's important is that I'm being honest in the journal and recognizing what's making me angry. I have to admit, writing in this thing has been better than I thought it'd be. He told me to keep it up.

  So, other than some irritating itching on my shins and forearms that's been bothering me today (I think I might have come into contact with something while I was working in the yard this afternoon. Tomorrow I'll check and see if any poison ivy is growing out there ), I can call this another good day. By my count, that's two in a row. Hope it's a trend.

  February 20th,2013

  This is my first entry in a few days because things are tense around this place, thanks to Mickey. It started on Monday, just after sundown. I was feeling dizzy and nauseous by the time I got home from work (so glad my employer doesn't close for President's Day. I couldn't have used the rest or anything), so I cut out early and headed to bed.

  Yesterday, I woke up still feeling ill. Not only was I dizzy, my hands also hurt. I think it may be the beginning of arthritis. Gotta get some cream for that (and for this damned itching. Didn't find any poison ivy in the yard Sunday, so I don't know what's causing this, but it really sucks. This morning, while I was getting dressed, I noticed red splotches on my arms where I've been scratching).

  I went to work anyway, because a guy who was allowed to keep his job after being arrested on a domestic assault charge need not fuck around with attendance issues. But I felt progressively worse as the day went on and, by noon, I had had enough. I requested the rest of the afternoon off. The boss was fine with it. He said I looked like hell and should go get some rest. That means I got home about five hours earlier than I normally would.

  When I walked through the door, the first thing that hit me was the smell. Oh man, that was fucking awful. It was like burned hair or something and it was filling every room. It got stronger as I walked upstairs. It turns out it was coming from Mickeys' room. I gotta say, it wasn't any real trick figuring that part out. God, my eyes felt like they wanted to bleed it smelled so bad. So I popped my head inside his room and there was Mickey, sitting in a circle on the floor, along with a couple of those idiot kids from his school, the little freaks who dress in all black and call themselves “Gothic” or whatever.

  I was about to tell them to get lost (and then chew the brat's ass out for skipping school), when I saw what they were doing. There were these weird black and red candles, set in a circle around the outside of some sort of symbols they had drawn the floor. The candles had been lit and there was no doubt that they were the source of the stink.

  The worst of it was what I saw next. The kid's dead rat was lying in the middle of those strange markings and there was a piece of my missing sweatshirt wrapped around it. The little bastard had cut a piece of my sweatshirt off and made it into a shroud for his dead pet! Not only has he been playing hooky, he's destroying my stuff as part of his weird bullshit. Oh, I was hell pissed.

  I shouted at the other kids to haul ass out of there, yanking Mickey to his feet as they bolted. I told him that his sick little funeral service was over. I put out the candles, kicking them over and stomping them to pieces with my shoe to make my point. Then I grabbed the piece of my sweatshirt off the dead hamster (I left the body on the floor, though. No fucking way I was touching that thing) and shoved it in his pasty face, demanding that he tell me what the hell he was doing. He flashed a cold smile and said that it didn't matter, the “ceremony had been completed thrice” and “what was done was done.”

  That last part actually kind of freaked me out.

  I told the kid to stay in his room until his mom got home, at which time we were all gonna talk about a proper punishment for his being truant (and for stinking up the house with those nasty candles). He just smiled again and said he was planning to stay in his room for the rest of the day anyway. I could have argued but , honestly, I just wanted to get out of there. The vibe in that room was giving me

  the creeps.

  When Krissy got home, I tried telling her what happened. Naturally, she didn't believe me. I kept on about it anyway. No way was I letting this go so easily. I told her about the symbols on the floor, the candles, the stink in the house and the piece of my sweat shirt (which I somehow had lost by then. I must have accidentally dropped it on the fl
oor of the kid's room before exiting, though I can't remember doing that).

  She asked to see proof , so I had her follow me upstairs. I wanted her to see the scene in his bedroom for herself anyway (I'd be lying if I didn't also admit here that I didn't want to go back into that room alone).

  When we got up there and she knocked on his door, the kid opened it almost immediately, like he'd been expecting us. The innocent look on his face told me things were gonna go very badly over the next few minutes. I was right. I don't know how that little creep did it, but he managed to get every trace of that crazy artwork off the floor. The remains of the candles were also gone. So was the dead rat. Even the piece of my sweatshirt was nowhere to be found.

  I swore up and down about what had been there , telling her that he must have cleaned it all up. Krissy got pissed, accusing me of lashing out at Mickey because it was what I'd done to his pet that started all of this. I pointed out that the house was still filled with the lingering smell of burnt hair and she denied that she could smell anything.

  That just about drove me out of my fucking mind, an outright lie like that. I could smell it while she was standing there telling me there was no smell. She was lying just to make me out to be the bad guy!

  I was smart, though. Instead of losing it, I redirected and pointed out that if she didn't believe anything else I had told her, she could call the school and find out for a fact that he had been truant that day. So at least he'd get busted for that.

  Yeah, she called and, yeah, the school confirmed that he hadn't shown up. I thought the kid was sunk, but he told her he hadn't felt well on the way to the bus stop and had turned around and come home. By the time he had gotten here, she had already left for her part time job at the library, so he didn't have a chance to let her know so she could call the school. He actually told her - right there in front of me- that he had been sleeping all day. She believed it. She believed every fucking word of it. What could I do? I gave up. When it comes to her kid, this woman is a permanent resident of the state of denial.

  Anyway, I've got a fold-out futon in my den and that's where I'm sleeping tonight.

  Whatever goodwill I might have earned in the past few days is gone (for the time being). I have to stop writing now. My hands are beginning to hurt so much that they're bunching up like claws. Not mention that this itching has gotten so bad that I've scratched the hair on my arms into rough little patches.

  February 21th, 2013.

  Called out sick today. I felt awful from the moment I got up. The boss understood. He told me he had expected as much, given how piss poor I had looked when I left yesterday. He told me to stay home tomorrow as well, since the district manager is coming in and he doesn't want to risk my getting the entire office sick.

  Despite this horrible itching (the hair and skin on my arms and legs are getting so rough from the constant scratching that it's starting to look like I have small patches of fur in those spots, instead of the red splotches) and my still feeling disoriented , I was surprisingly hungry. So I went into the kitchen.

  Now, I'm normally a meat guy. I'm the original carnivore and I like my food bloody and rare.

  But as I checked out the contents of our fairly well-stocked refrigerator, the only thing that appealed to me was an extra large bag of sunflower seeds Krissy likes to keep on hand as a healthy snack alternative. I grabbed them off of the shelf on the 'fridge door and took them with me.

  Krissy and Mickey were both gone already. Being awake and having nothing better to do, I decided to drive over to the drugstore and pick up some topical cream for the itching, plus some of that ointment that heats up after you apply it to combat the constant pain in my hands. God they hurt. I keep having to rub them together, over and over, just to loosen up my fingers so I can write.

  I got dressed, grabbed my car keys and stepped outside. That's when things went south really fast.

  I walked out the front door into a clear, beautiful morning and the sunlight practically blinded me. I'm not exaggerating. It was like I had stared directly into the sun. It hurt, like jumping into a pool without realizing how cold the water is and suddenly having the feeling of a thousand needles puncturing your skin, except it was all focused on my eyes.

  I clapped a hand across my face and turned to go back into the house and grab my sunglasses, when my foot struck something soft and furry. There was loud hiss and a flash of pain. I looked down and saw the neighbors' cat on our front stoop, ears back as it growled at me. There was a trickle of blood staining my sock where it had clawed my ankle.

  I don't know why, but instead of getting angry and drop-kicking that little motherfucker across the yard, I was scared. I mean really scared. My heart started racing , my skin felt cold and I swear I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I ducked around the cat and dove through the front door, slamming it behind me.

  After I calmed down, I felt tired and just wanted to get back to the relative safety of the den. That's where I'm writing this. I've been here all day (no way I'm going outside again), eating sunflower seeds and lying on the futon wrapped in several blankets, with the blinds drawn. I can see well enough to write legibly, despite it being fairly dark in here. I'm going to stop now, because the nausea is back and my hands are making their misery known again. My fingers are stiff and sore and they want to stay curled. I swear, when I put the pen down and look at them, they almost seem smaller. The skin on the back of my hands looks raw and pinkish. I wonder if the rash from my arms and legs has moved to my hands? Maybe that's causing the pain?

  Later- Krissy and the kid woke me up coming in this afternoon. I stepped into the living room to greet them . Mickey was carrying what I at first thought was an empty aquarium. It turned out to be a home for his new pet. She got the kid a snake. A small python.

  I don't know why, but just the sight of that thing made me uneasy. I've never had a problem with reptiles before, but it felt like what had happened with the cat was repeating all over again. Krissy commented that I looked terrible and said I should see a doctor, but I didn't answer her. All I could do was look at the black eyes of that python staring back at me from behind the glass and be afraid.

  I walked back inside the den and laid down for the night. I'm going to try and get some sleep now.

  I really wish the door to this room had a lock.

  February 23rd

  Called out sick again. This is my third day out in a row. The boss was unhappy, but I can't help it. I'm so tired. I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep. I kept hearing the sounds of the house: The clock ticking on the living room wall, the sound of the A/C running, the way the house creaks and settles in the night. I guess those sounds have always been here, but they seem so much more noticeable now.

  I was restless, so I wandered into the living room and clicked on some late night television. The light from the screen hurt my eyes and I shut it off immediately. I decided to check the kitchen for more sunflower seeds - I finished the bag yesterday and had a fresh craving - but no such luck.

  While I was in there, I noticed that the trash needed to be taken out (the kid's chore. Of course he didn't do it) and decided to get it into the outside cans before the trash pickup this morning.

  Funny thing: When I was outside dropping the trash bag into the can, the smell of old food and other garbage hit me pretty hard. What was so odd was that, instead of being revolting, that smell made me hungry. I was practically drooling.

  Frightened, I dumped the trash and got back inside as quickly as possible.

  Feb 24?

  Just woke. Tired and confused. It's late. Clock says three in the morning. Ears feel [passage indecipherable]. Almost like they're getting rounder. Disoriented and in pain. The itching is all over my body now. Room seems bigger. Stretches forever. Stretching out and getting wider as I write. Hands twisting. Too small to hold the journal. Can barely [passage indecipherable].God. All so huge and I'm so getting so small. I'm [passage indecipherable
]about Maestro? Am I Maestro? I am Maestro. Somebody is here in the room. Something . Sliding. I can hear it slithering toward me.

  [passage indecipherable]

  Transcript Ends

  Louis White

  Sr. Detective

  Homicide/Missing Persons Division

  Lake Green Sheriff's Office

  Lake Green, Florida. 33463.

  813-555-2705

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