Breaking and Entering

Thank goodness for the last bell! Timmy threw his bag over his shoulder, raced to his locker, grabbed all of his books he would need, and bolted out the door. The sun was shining brightly down on a warm summer day and he was thrilled. As he began his two mile walk home from school, Timmy began to skip leisurely along the route.

It was the time of year for Timmy’s favorite school sport, track and field. Timmy was a natural long distance runner. Tall, athletic build, with long legs, he was a hit with the coaches. Being blonde haired and blue eyed didn’t hurt his chances with the ladies either, but Timmy was more interested in sports and school at the moment. Finishing up his Sophomore year with an almost perfect GPA made him feel so accomplished.

He turned left onto the dusty road that was a shortcut home. He had taken this way countless times before instead of another route that wound downtown. Timmy was hoping to get home sooner and finish a project before a party he was supposed to attend this weekend. By his calculations, he could get all the major work done by midnight and then put it all together when he woke up on Saturday.

As he walked along, he took in the rich collage of the tree leaves, the emerald hue of the grass, and listened to all the various insect symphonies. He was about halfway home, when he noticed a partial opening between some thick vines. He slowed his clipped pace and paused before this mysterious new entrance.

He didn’t recall it being there before and slowly made his way towards the parted ivy. As he neared the natural curtain, the old local homeless man, dubbed ‘Merck’ by locals, came lumbering down the roadway towards him. Merck began gesturing to Timmy to follow him down the dirt road. Timmy decided to wave a quick ‘hi’ in response and stealthily ducked back into the thick foliage before he could follow him. Merck was by no means dangerous, it’s just Timmy’s curiosity was more piqued by this strange new anomaly.

As he carefully moved through the brush, Timmy came upon a small building he had never seen before. There was a weathered sign posted precariously on the outside “No trespassing. Private property. Enter at own risk”. If a strong enough wind blew, the sign would have been knocked down long ago, and Timmy wondered how it had stayed up this long.

As he neared the small structure, he noticed the door sagging on ancient hinges. He wanted to see inside for himself and reasoned he could explain his actions by making sure no one was trapped inside. The tiny shed could be a death trap if anyone accidentally got stuck. He carefully grabbed the knob and the squeaking of the rusted mechanisms made his skin crawl. With great effort, the door advanced enough for Timmy to squeeze his frame inside.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he jumped when a booming sound rumbled all around him. He glanced to check out the single window on the far side of the shed as sheets of rain beat against the pane. WTH? It had been a perfectly beautiful day outside just moments ago. He reasoned his eyes were still adjusting and his mind conjured the sounds. Suddenly, jagged lightning streaked across the glass portal and the wooden planks shook with another crash of thunder.

Timmy scratched his head, and checked for any possible injuries he may have unknowingly sustained. This was the craziest thing to happen to him EVER!!! As he continued to ponder what this meant, he felt the temperature drop quickly. His breath came out in icy puffs and suddenly he knew he was not alone. His body instinctively shrank into itself while he was hit with a feeling that was paralyzing. Sheer and utter terror; something was in there and it absolutely did not want him anywhere near this shed.

This was all the invitation he needed. The weather had been crazy enough but no way was Timmy going to try and fight some ghostly ghoul. He spun on his heel and ripped open the door as it slammed against the shed wall. Once outside, he was stunned momentarily to be back in bright sunshine. With well trained legs he sped along the path back to the dirt road. As he turned towards home, Timmy chose to continue running and put as much distance between him and the creepy shed as possible.

Making it home in record time, he panted heavily as he stood in the safety of his parents kitchen. Chugging a few glasses of cold water, he couldn’t help but feel the lingering presence that crippled him. Physically shaking his head, he reasoned it was because he was still shaken up and slowly felt the fear dissipate. Nah, it was all in his mind, although he vowed to himself NEVER to take that shortcut, EVER, again!!

He jogged up the stairs and set to work on his project. He finished the second to last portion as his mom called for dinner. Rushing downstairs, he slid into his usual chair. While eating, he filled both of his parents in on his unusual experience and asked about the shed. Neither parent had ever heard of any structure back there. His dad offered to speak with the police chief, whose family had been in the area for generations. After satisfying his belly, Timmy trudged back upstairs to finish the last part of his homework for the evening.

As he quietly shut his laptop, he checked the clock. It was fifteen minutes past midnight. He smiled satisfactorily to himself as he quickly changed for bed and crawled between his cool soft sheets. He imagined what he and his friends would do at the party later that day. He faintly heard in the background some faint, scraping noises and footsteps. He reasoned one of his parents was up and drifted off into a deep sleep.

The blackness was unlike anything Timmy had ever seen. It was almost a substance that could be felt. He groped in front of him searching for something, anything that could help orient where he was. He jumped as the space was lit up with the flash of lighting and the all too familiar sound of the deep thunder. He froze in place while his mind raced; why did he end up back at the shed?

While he contemplated how he was there, the lightning came in quicker successions. Instinctively, he realized he was dreaming. He noticed a tall, thin figure clothed all in black on the opposite side of the tight space. Fear drove him to find any place to hide away from this foreboding presence. As he quickly glanced around, he realized with terror the door was absent. A rickety table with a threadbare cloth was the only thing near him that gave him a chance for cover. Timmy dove underneath it and prayed the storm would cover any noise he might have made.

He watched in horror as the figure GLIDED backwards directly towards him. Upon reaching the edge of the table, Timmy watched as the figure slowly shrank down to a crouching position. Slowly, the figure began twisting only its upper body around to face Timmy while the legs remained in the crouching stance. Finally, the upper portion of the figure faced Timmy and he screamed with all his might. The figure had NO FACE. The only feature that appeared were large, glittering eyes that appeared hard, cold, and reflective like diamonds.

The figure lowered its upper body to the floor and began to advance slowly towards him in a makeshift crab-walk. Timmy couldn’t get any air in his lungs to scream again and he heard the ‘thing’ taking great raspy breaths. As it got closer, Timmy could feel the heat from each breath and nearly vomited from the rank smell. It stopped an inch away from his face and then Timmy passed out.

He started awake with a jolt. He was curled in the fetal position facing his room. Slowly, he unwrapped his limbs and tried to control his breathing. He felt his heart rate lowering as the comfort of his surroundings melted into him. What felt like hours crept by and Timmy began to feel sleepy again and rolled over. When his body faced the wall, the blackness expanded in front of him. Before he could get out a scream to alert his parents, a very real and lifelike figure grabbed his throat with a vice grip.

The next day, Timmy’s parents went upstairs to check on him since he had not come downstairs by one in the afternoon. His dad softly knocked on the door and called his name. Not getting an answer he slowly opened it. After taking in the horrifying scene, he let out a cry not altogether different from the one his son had tried to utter the night before. His wife came running into the room and wailed loudly while her husband caught her from falling to the floor.

The only thing altered in his room was his bed; the linens had been thrown back and torn to shreds. Blood touched every layer, even his pillows. They could see handprints where presumably their son had tried to fight for dear life. Everything else was untouched, like someone had come in the night and switched beds on them as a cruel joke. The window was closed and locked, closet door open wide so they could see inside from where they stood. There was no sign of Timmy, save for the bloody carnage.

The months that followed only brought more questions instead of answers. Hundreds of volunteers searched the stretch of forest along the dirt road for the elusive shed. Tim’s mother refused to get rid of anything he had owned and his father began to drink heavily. A witness claimed to have seen Merck coming from the shortcut near the school and the cops jailed the poor man every chance they got. There were no leads and in her grief Tim’s mom put up missing persons posters refusing to believe he was dead. The town’s people went along with it, not having the heart to correct her.

On the poster was a school picture of Timmy showing a distinctive scar on his left arm. When he was ten, he caught his arm on a barbed wire fence and carved a three inch gash. He was so proud of the stitches he got that day and wasn’t embarrassed about it as he got older. His mom made sure to point it out to anyone who took a poster. Outside the grocery store, a cop from town took the poster with pity in his eyes and glanced at the photo for her sake. As he walked away, a memory began to tickle its way from his subconscious. By the time he reached his car, it blared like a siren in his mind.

He had seen the same exact scar on Merck during one of the first times he was detained. They had also found numerous scars all over his body. The cop shook his head in anger at himself; ‘get a grip’ he thought. Merck was a mute due to an old throat injury and besides the guy was well into his sixties. How could it even be possible? It wasn’t, and the cop struggled to stop the barrage of memories that flooded his vision.

Soon enough, one memory kept being replayed over and over. It was when Merck did his best to tell his story the first time he was brought in. He kept drawing these weird pictures of a faceless black shadow with glittering, cold eyes in an old wooden shed…………..