A Relic from Madness

I had arrived home around 11:00pm exhausted from the days labor. 14 hours of work have been a constant schedule these past few weeks for a data technician. I was exhausted, but not unhappily, for I do enjoy my work. It was too late to make a meal so I grabbed some bread with a jar of jam and began to heat up tea. I briefly walked in my room and changed into some more comfortable clothes. It was not soon after that I heard a sound that reminded me of chains clashing together. I thought at first that the noise was something else all together, but then I heard it again- this time distinctively. It sounded to be coming from my room.

It was almost reaching midnight and I continued to ignore the sound, believing it to be coming from outside my apartment window in the alley way. The events in the night are not something I wish to shed light on, so I chose to not bother with looking into the alley way. I had finished my small supper and bathed. As I sat in the tub I heard it again- chains rattling. It IS coming from my room. I thought it to be a rat. What a rat had to do with chains I did not know, but perhaps my mind is hearing chains when the actual sound is entirely different. Such blame is to be placed on lack of sleep and the eeriness of it being midnight. Thank goodness tomorrow is a Saturday, I thought. I had plans with my sister Margret to take a look at a local florist’s exhibit. I finished bathing and put on some sleeping wear in the wash room. Again, the chains. I stood in front of my door for a moment. Part of me felt that I shouldn’t open the door, and just call the police. What in heavens would I tell them?! That there is a sound of chains rattling in my bedroom and I am too afraid to look inside? I was being silly and snapped out of it. I opened the door and turned on the lights. Immediately I regretted my actions.

What I saw was a beast so horrendous, chained to the floor. It didn’t take long for my mind to go black to escape the reality I found myself in, and the last thing I could remember was a vivid and grotesque image of the beast smiling at me. My mind had gone to the strangest dream. A moving picture of a re-creation of Adam and Eve taking the forbidden fruit. It was so vivid and played out as if it was a memory of long ago- a tale told to me, but long forgotten and buried in the depths of my fragile mind. I felt as if a piece of my mind has been unlocked. How did it unlock? Or perhaps a better question: Who or What unlocked it? And the final question: Should it have remained locked?

My body curled in depths of sleep as my fingers clawed at my skin- as if gripping for it’s very life. I was not aware what I was doing while I slept. Long streaks of red flared stripes remained under my biting fingernails. My jaw held tight and firm, gnawing the top and bottom teeth, grinding the microscopic layers of bone. I slept unknowingly as my mind rushed through dreams both wicked and disturbing, but my body fought in pain- curling and kicking on my apartment floor.

I had then woken up by a constant tugging. A woman was calling out my name.

“My goodness, David. What in Heavens happened to you” she spoke.

My eyes opened and I saw my sister Margret looking at me. I realized I was laying on the floor in the middle of the doorway. I immediately turned my site to the end of the room, concerned for our safety, but saw that nothing remained there. There was no beast in chains, no marks on my apartment floor, and no sounds of those damned metal rings clanging together.

“You are starting to scare me” continued Margret.

I began reassuring her as I stood up with her help. I had realized long streaks on my skin as if I had been scratching myself. No doubt my sister had saw the same.

“My dear sister, I don’t know what happened.” I paused in thought, “I must have been exhausted from the week.” I told her. The dreams were now fading back into the shadows of my mind. I could only recall the faintest image of a monster chained to the floor. A devilish nightmare, I thought. I had begun to clean myself up while Margret prepared morning tea. The marks on my body flared bright red when exposed to the hot water. I put on a long-sleeved collared shirt to hide such marks. Who knows what others would of thought if they saw them. I was curious to find out what my sister had thought. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind she saw them, but she had remained quiet about it. I could not remember what I had dreamed about, but I knew it to be a nightmare of sorts. After I found myself to be ready I went out to greet her.

“Well groomed for the exhibit” I told her as I grabbed the cup of tea she offered me.

I could see she wasn’t entirely convinced of my good nature as she sat in the arm chair across from me.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright” she asked.

I waved a hand, “A bad dream, Margret. Nothing to worry about”, I told her.

“David, what about those scratch marks on your arm. It must’ve been a frightening dream” she spoke.

“It was a very frightening dream, but I’m afraid that is all I can remember about it.” I replied.

We talked briefly about the subject, but soon the talk of the bad and forgotten dream must’ve assured her to stop worrying. She sipped her tea as we delightfully talked about the florestry exhibit this afternoon, something both she and I looked forward to.

The day went on in good nature. I found her presence reassuring to my good health. Although, there was something I couldn’t shake off. It was the strangest thing, but I had felt as if I was being watched. In one moment, I was admiring a piece of lilies by an artist named Mrs. Elinor, and the next moment I found myself in a small panic- I had heard the sound of chains rattling and immediately thought of that creature which has not escaped my mind entirely. I looked around in all directions till I found a janitor carrying a box of old car parts and a chain hanging out of it. He had caught my immediate glance and smiled my direction. There was something a little off about the way he smiled at me. It was almost a menacing smile, but he nodded his head and walked in the other direction. This had eased my fears. Margret had stood right next to me, but I was unsure whether she had seen my reaction. This is silly, I thought to myself.

That evening I had supper with Mother, Father, and Margret. We sat and discussed about the exhibit as well as my work. This family get-together was something we all wished to continue since the divorce. Mother and Margret didn’t care too much of the exciting events of a data technician, but Father had a particular interest in such work and found the conversation enlightening. Since childhood father and I had a very close connection. I asked him how his sister, Aunt Regina, was doing since they both live with each other. He had told me that she had been vacationing in Hawaii for some time. The evening went very well, and it was a day well spent. My mind was in good company, and my body was at ease. Margret did not bring up the morning’s events and for that I was thankful. I had said goodbye soon after I ate and father called for a cab to take me back to my apartment. I had gotten to my apartment door and suddenly stopped.

Again, I had that feeling of being watched.

I turned around and looked into the empty streets. No one was there and I could not see anything past the street lamps. I had thought I heard a faint rattle of metal clanging against each other within the darkness. I listened very carefully, waiting to here that sound again. Abruptly a racoon jumped out of a garbage can and ran off with a rotten apple in its mouth, towards the park down the street. I turned back to my door and unlocked it, walking into my apartment building.

I fell in to a deep sleep and dreamed of odd things. Again, the moving picture of Adam and Eve taking the forbidden fruit. The apple Adam bit into was filled with maggots, but still he continued to eat it and then offered Eve her piece. The image flashed of Adam smiling as worms riddled out of his mouth, and as I focused closer I recognized the man’s face. It mirrored my own. Then my mind flashed to the snake in the tree, Satan, who I recognized as a beast sitting amongst the branches- the same creature I saw chained in my room. He smiled at me and I had smiled back. It was a smile that reminded me of that janitor at the exhibit. Then the dream changed. Images came flashing and I could only make some of them out- a field in daylight, the forest in the darkness, and the sound of horns. A voice then whispered in my mind- Come find me.

Instantly I awoke to the sound of a car horn. I looked around and recognized immediately that I was not in my apartment, but naked in the middle of a field. An officer stood next to his vehicle and watched me.

“Do you know who you are?” asked the officer.

I looked at him for a moment as I was still in shock of what was happening. How did I get here? Where are my clothes? What on God’s earth is happening?

“Is that a no?” the officer continued.

“My name is David Bishop Kelsey. Though I don’t have my I.D. to prove it to you” I told him.

“You don’t need an ID Mr. Kelsey, I know who you are” he replied.

To my surprise Officer John Morris had my clothes within his back seat and briefly explained to me that he had caught me in the forest last night, but that I had escaped in the nude. I told him that I had no recollection of such events. Truthfully, I told him, that I was now afraid for my own safety. In the station he contacted my sister Margret and to my great shock I had found out that it was Tuesday! Two whole days have been spent with no memory of its events!

My sister arrived with my uncle, Dr. Treadwell. I couldn’t help but notice that my parents weren’t with them, but part of me was thankful for their absence in such an event. I had filled out some paperwork while both my uncle and sister conversed with Officer Morris. I honestly wished that Margret would have left my psychiatrist uncle out of this mess.

I was sentenced to a few days at the hospital, being pumped with medication. I asked Uncle Treadwell what the medication was and he told me there was some kind of in balance in the brain and the medication was going to even it out. I told him I do not want to be drugged for 3 days. Dr. Treadwell assured me that I won’t feel a thing when I finish. He was wrong. I felt that these drugs kept me drowsy and dreamy. The doctors payed almost no attention to me. I asked one what they had found. She simply replied that they found nothing and they just wanted to “calm me down”. On the third day Margret and Uncle Treadwell came to pick me up. As we drove home my uncle continued to ask me questions, no doubt attempting to diagnose me. I could see my sister in the review mirror, starring out the window and deep in thought. She was worried and I could see that she was trying to remain composed. No doubt my Psychiatrist Uncle briefed my sister of her role to remain silent. We had dropped her off and she told me she’ll visit soon. Now I was alone and at the mercy of Uncle Treadwell.

“David, do you think we could perhaps set up some appointments at my office?” he spoke as he continued driving.

“Surely you don’t think I am in need of a Psychiatrist? It’s simply a cause of stress, I am in need of a vacation” I told him. I’ve began to realize that maybe too much work and too little sleep has been the culprit of these events. My uncle was not satisfied with the answer.

“My boy, don’t think of it as a session with a psychiatrist. It is simply a talk with your Uncle at his office This little circumstance has finally gotten us to meet each other again” He replied.

“A talk about what?” I asked.

“Life, dreams, the weather. You name it. When’s the last time you and I actually talked, David?” he said.

I thought on the idea and found no harm in just chatting with my Uncle. It was true he and I haven’t talked in a while and I would rather not sit in my apartment alone. I had agreed to meet him tomorrow after work. It had then come to me- what would I tell my boss and colleagues about my absence. Uncle Treadwell had seen I was somewhat anxious when I brought up work. He had re-assured me that he would make a phone call and put things at ease. He explained to me that the actual events will be nowhere in the conversation, and he would simply tell my boss of something else altogether. I took him up on that offer and thanked him. It was dark by the time I got home. My uncle confirmed our talk for tomorrow at 6pm. I agreed and he left while I walked up my stairs. It was a cold night and I wrapped my coat tighter towards my chest, taking out my apartment key. Before I opened the door, I stopped when I felt a feeling of being watched again. I turned around and looked into the empty streets. A great feeling of déjà vu swept over me and I continued to look into the darkness past the street lamps. For a brief moment I had thought the sound of chains were rattling within the trees. Such a thought reminded me of the dream with the monster sitting amongst the branches. I watched closer as the shadows of those branches moved with the wind. I found myself to be smiling erotically, although I was unaware I was doing it. I turned back towards my apartment door and walked in.

Dr. Treadwell’s Diary

Yesterday I had arrived back from visiting the hospital. My nephew, David, has been caught from an immoral act of running around in the forest naked- missing for 2 days. Margret and I had a brief word with Officer Morris before taking David to the hospital. I have found out that David was wanting to “find someone”. Who that person is, I don’t know. Officer Morris said that the night before he caught him, David was talking to someone, but the officer had not seen anyone around. The hospital visit was another problem all together. The early tests showed some imbalances, but were waved off. I had spoken to a nurse who had worked on that report. I had consent from David’s parents to access this information. I went immediately into a rage. The mental state of a person so easily waved off. Though, the imbalances wouldn’t have caused much in the sense of what David experienced. I had gone back to Margret’s to discuss the events in more detail. The appointment he and I will have today will give me some more insight on any malfunctioning in his link with reality.

The door bell rang. Dr. Treadwell put down his journal then walked to the door, opening it.

“Margret, I am surprised to see you this morning” spoke Dr. Treadwell.

“Uncle, I am sorry for the unannounced visit, but I wanted to tell you something I couldn’t last night”

Dr. Treadwell invited his niece inside and poured another cup of tea for her. They both sat in his study which was surrounded by books of different sciences. The smell reminded Margret of books and lemon scented sterilizers.

“Now Margret, what do you wish to tell me” spoke Dr. Treadwell, hiding his eagerness for the un-discovered news.

“It is about Saturday morning; the day David and I went to a florist exhibit” she replied.

Margret told her uncle about how she had found David on the floor, shaking violently and covered in scratch marks- brought up by a supposed nightmare. This, she told her uncle, seemed to be the start of such things. Uncle Treadwell’s brows buried as he listened carefully at what his niece was explaining. After she was done explaining, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his brown and grey beard in a sort of meditation.

“You are very right to bring up this event, Margret. This will aid me very much with the talk today” he told her. Dr. Treadwell knew that this dream, or an event from the night before is somehow involved in the recent events. Perhaps it is the secret to the source of these events.

As Margret was about to leave, Dr. Treadwell stopped her briefly.

“Margret, have you thought on the idea that it might be drugs?” he said.

The idea seemed to wiggle into Margret’s mind. “what makes you say drugs, uncle?”

“I’ve thought about the recent events: overworked, the nightmares, the chills, the blackouts and hallucinations”

Margret suddenly thought her Uncle might be on to something, drugs seemed to explain a lot of it.

She looked at him in surprise, “You might be right, Uncle. Although, I have no knowledge of him being interested in such things. They ran a toxicology report at the hospital?”

“And found no traces, yes. But that does not mean it wasn’t there, it could mean that it left his body. Few acknowledge such addictions. I wont rule it out, and will see if I can press on the issue this evening” replied Dr. Treadwell.

Dr. Treadwell thanked his niece for the visit and told her that he’ll keep her informed of the appointment this evening with David. Before she walked out the door Dr. Treadwell stopped her and told her if she was willing to the task, then to go into David’s apartment while he was having his appointment and look around for anything suspicious. Margret was worried about her brother and felt that whatever help he needs then he will get. Her Uncle admitted it was unethical, but Margret agreed to go to the apartment.

Dr. Treadwell sat in his seat for a moment. Such things will momentarily be hid from David and Margret’s parents. Dr. Treadwell found no need to worry them. The case right now was to investigate into this issue and see what else he might learn from the appointment this evening. If David IS involved in illegal substances then the sooner we stop it, the better.

I awoke refreshed, I couldn’t recall any nightmares and had the proper rest to lift my spirits up. The days of yesterday seemed like days long ago and I’ve put those troubles behind me, feeling as if what was wrong is now fixed. Work went as expected. My uncle had convinced my boss that I had to go to Florida to help my grandmother who has almost died. There were no questions or confirmations necessary. Work had ended and I had arrived at my uncle’s office. I felt at first a little hesitant of this agreement, but reassured myself that this was just a talk with my uncle to see how life was going. He greeted and welcomed me into his office. I sat in the armchair across from him and he seemed to be waiting for me to speak.

“How’s work, Uncle” I said.

“Good, good. I’ve had quite a few cases this month which has no doubt kept me very busy”

“Cases of what, if I may ask? Or would it breach the patient confidentiality?”

Dr. Treadwell shrugged, “Listing the diagnosis I work with does not reveal anyone’s identity” he said

There was a pause as Dr. Treadwell began thinking. “Let’s see, there is schizophrenia, depression, anxiety issues, bi-polar disorders, split personalities” he began, “ah yes, there is also drug abuse”. Dr. Treadwell made sure to slightly emphasize drug abuse, purposefully putting It last.

“My goodness, it must be an exciting life of a psychiatrist these days with that list of illnesses” I replied.

Not even a flinch from the word drug abuse, Dr. Treadwell thought. Perhaps, he thought, a more direct approach.

“I have had more drug abuse cases these last few weeks. Some are legal, but overused and some are illegal.” Said Dr. Treadwell.

“I am not sure what people see in drugs, I’ve heard that the long-term effects are disastrous.” I replied.

“Disastrous indeed, David. Make sure you never get involved in such things, and if you do then you will notify me straight away” – a playful gesture.

I nodded politely, “I appreciate your concern, Uncle”.

The man is playing a game with me, I thought. Does he think I’m involved in such things? Drug abuse is no doubt a topic he wants to discuss after having mentioned it once then prolonging the topic.

Then I heard it- the rattling of chains. I immediately looked around the room.

“David is everything ok?” asked Dr. Treadwell after seeing his nephew’s immediate alertness.

“Ah, yes. I had thought I heard something?” I replied still searching around the room.

“What do you think you heard?” he asked.

My eyes were straying in every direction, finding the source of that sound. Then I looked at my uncle. His very figure has changed into the monster! I swallowed in fear and sank bank in my seat.

“May I get anything for you, David?” the monster spoke, its voice shook my very spine.

I hesitated and closed my eyes, wanting to wake myself up. Then words began echoing in my brain- COME FIND ME. Immediately I opened my eyes and found the monster gone. My uncle starred at me with a confused expression. I tried to hide my shock.

“Uncle, I fear that this have might have been a mistake.” I told him.

“How so, David? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, but I must leave” I replied.

Dr. Treadwell felt an eagerness to keep him here, fearing that Margret would still be in his apartment.

“ David, I feel that you might be under the influence of something” spoke Dr. Treadwell.

I had grabbed my coat off the chair and looked at my uncle, “You think it to be drugs” I replied.

“There is no need to fear if it’s illegal, I can help you, but I just want to take a blood sample to see what kind of drugs you’re dealing with”

“No, Uncle. I am not on drugs. There is nothing wrong with me, even the doctors said nothing was wrong with me.”

“Surely something IS wrong with you, David. You have been running around the woods naked talking to an imaginary friend” said Dr. Treadwell.

The tone of his voice had surprised me. Uncle Treadwell is on the offense now, that much was certain.

“I haven’t had any incident since. I have been overworked!” I spat back.

“You are not well, David. Make no mistake, you are ILL” he countered.

I found no need to stay for this argument and began to walk out the door. Such nonsense, I thought. A simple chat?!

“We care about you, David” called out Dr. Treadwell.

Care about me? He thinks I’m a disease, something to be diagnosed, something to be FIXED. I very much regretted agreeing to this appointment. I felt that I should have known better. I had taken a bus which dropped me off a couple blocks from my apartment, and I began walking down the street. It was then I saw someone locking my apartment door- my sister, Margret. She walked down the street away from me. What was she doing in my apartment? The thought had disturbed me. She knew I was going to Uncle Treadwell’s during this time. I walked faster to my apartment. When I arrived inside I at first did not notice anything unusually different. I went into my room and put my tie away when I did notice that some clothes within my drawer have shifted around. Margret was looking for something. She was in league with my Uncle, thinking there would be drugs in my apartment. I paced around the room, feeling betrayed by them. I suddenly stopped as a figure moved from the corner of my eye. I turned around and saw it- the Monster, chained to the floor.

You’ve found me, David.

I fell to the floor in fear, paralyzed to even move. It was a grotesque creature with black skin covered in scars. Its teeth were sharp and black. The creatures size was that of a gorilla. The feature that stood out most were its red eyes which glared in anger and savagery.

“What do you want” I replied, my voice shaking in terror.

The monster then grinned. That hideous smile, I remember. The smile the janitor at the florist exhibit gave me. Dare I say- the Devil, who I feel has been following me. It spoke: I’m here to help, and suddenly the chains that held him down had broken- The monster was now free.

I awoke to a knocking on my door. I found myself sleeping on the living room sofa. I recall the monster and the broken chains, but not the faintest idea of what happened afterwards. Again, the knocking continued. I had noticed that I was in different clothes than before as I walked to the door. I opened it to find my Uncle, Dr. Treadwell.

“Good Morning” I spoke, still a tinge of anger in my voice.

“Good morning, David.” He replied, “Might I come in?”

I nodded and let my Uncle inside. He had sat as I heated up some tea.

“I have come to apologize for yesterday, David” he told me.

“For the appointment or for Margret’s unexpected visit?” I replied to him.

He looked at me with a little sense of shock. He clasped his hands together and bent his head in regret.

“For both, I was the one who told Margret to come over to look for any drugs” he said to me.

“You couldn’t take my word for it?”

“Surely you wouldn’t trust someone’s word if they were hiding something” he said.

“I’m not hiding anything” I told him.

“Yes, well that was my mistake. I was just trying to get to the bottom of what was happening. Margret and I do care about you.”

I handed him the tea, “to a point where it’s a little disturbing” I said.

“Yes, very well. I only came here to apologize, It just seems a little unusual that you went through that experience on a purely random coincidence” he said.

I had acknowledged the concern in his voice and sympathized with the man.

“If something else does come up then you will be the first to be notified, Uncle” I told him.

“So nothing strange has come up since?” he asked me.

I shook my head, “Nothing, everything has been normal” I replied.

There it is again, Dr. Treadwell thought, does he know he’s doing this?

“Are you taking your medication?” asked Treadwell.

He was talking about the medication for the sleep and headaches. I nodded and sipped some tea. There was a sudden sound of sirens that blasted by the window. Five Police officers have drove by in a hurry. Uncle Treadwell and I looked out the window, curious as to what was happening.

“Oh, there’s Margret” he said as we looked down the street.

We both set aside our cups of tea and walked outside.

“Margret, a pleasant surprise” greeted Uncle Treadwell.

“Good morning to you both. Uncle, I did not expect to see you here” she replied.

“He was apologizing on your behalf for your visit yesterday” I interrupted.

Margret looked at me with some feelings of embarrassment.

“Well I am sorry for that, David. I was just worried. You can’t blame your sister for caring about her brother” she snapped back.

I sighed, mostly disappointed that my anger for these two had died off so quickly.

“What on earth is going on with those police?” asked Uncle Treadwell.

“They have seemed to have stopped at the museum. The same one David and I went to on Saturday” she told us.

“Let’s say we check it out, do a little investigating as a team” spoke Uncle Treadwell, looking and Margret and I.

We all had agreed and I grabbed my coat. I felt to be in some good spirit. I am not sure what happened, but whatever happened was for my own good health. The monster was pushed to the back of my mind. The orange and yellow leaves were falling off the slim branches along the road. I admired how October was such a relaxing month. The leaves changing colors to its rusty tone, the air filled with a slight bite of cold, and the smell in the air that has seemed to change. We arrived to the museum only to see about a dozen police cars blocking the entrance, and a field of people behind the vehicles eagerly wanting to find out what was happening.

“Perhaps someone stole an artifact?” I asked.

“That’s a good thought, or maybe vandalized one” replied Margret.

“I have a feeling we are both wrong, there are too many policemen here” I told her.

We had arrived to the scene and tried to look past the crowd, though we couldn’t see much into the museum windows.

Uncle Treadwell had begun to ask members of the crowd what was going on, but none seemed to know anything. We had met an officer near a police car and had asked him, but he couldn’t tell us anything. Margret had finally found a friend of hers who was a member of the museum. She had just walked out of the museum and Margret caught her attention before she had gotten lost in the crowd.

“Lily, are you alright? What happened?” asked Margret.

Lilly had held on to her arm as she walked Margret away from the crowd. Uncle Treadwell and I followed closely as Margret introduced us to her. As we were far enough away, Lily leaned in.

“Jeff, the janitor has been murdered” whispered Lily.

“Murdered?!” replied Margret.

“Not just murdered, Margret. The janitor was mutilated and the killer hung up his body in chains. I’ve never seen of anything like this!” replied Lily.

The chains don’t make noise when they’re under weighted pressured.

“Good Heavens” gasped Uncle Treadwell.

“My God, hung up his body?” I replied, disgusted at the idea.

“Do they know who did it?” asked Margret.

Lily drew in closer, “The police say that it was most likely a staff member. Could you believe it?!” she said.

Margret gasped in shock at the idea.

“Lily, how are you feeling?” asked Uncle Treadwell.

Lily nodded, but looked shaken. Uncle Treadwell gave her his card if she ever needed any sessions to talk it all out. This was a traumatizing experience for her, he told her. I thought his gesture to be noble and found an appreciation towards my uncle. I felt somewhat uncompleted when we left the museum, part of me felt that we should have seen the body. The book was being dropped at the half way mark. Perhaps it was better we had not seen the body. Lily had given us a rather disgusting image already- a mutilated and chained body of a janitor. There is now a killer hiding amongst us who is feigning to be a normal person. I am sure the cops will soon have this monster in custody. Till then I fear that no one is safe.

I was not sure whether this following incident actually happened, or if it was a dream. On my way home I had found a dog near the alley way and noticed that its paw was injured. I looked at the dog for some time, mesmerized by its injury. Why, I’m not sure. I was fascinated by it. Leaving this dog on the street in pain was immoral. I decided to lift him and began to walk down the street towards the vet until something stopped me. I looked into the apartment window and found it. The monster staring at me. I watched him and had forgotten entirely about the dog in my arms. The beast above waved his hands, calling me in. Without hesitation I turned around and unlocked my front door, carrying the dog inside my home. The monster appeared beside me and looked at the injured dog. On the counter was a knife. I could help but grab it and smile, and unknowingly begun my work.

Dr. Treadwell’s Diary

I had gotten back from David’s house, to apologize for my forward behavior the day before. I had noticed a few differences. As we engaged in conversation, his speech was a little slow- abnormally so as if he was sleep deprived. A few times he even paused and spaced out, unaware that he was doing it. Update: I talked to my brother John, David’s father, and Melissa to go over there and check on him. They noticed these little changes, and have even witnessed David taking a bath with his clothes on. They admitted it to be very strange activity, but found no cause for alarm. Perhaps they choose NOT to see the problem. Melissa believes that as long as no other incidents arise, and he’s taking his medication then everything is normal. I believe otherwise. David has hit a fork in the road and perhaps is walking in the wrong direction. Where it will lead, I do not wish to find out.

“Are you cooking lunch or are we going out, David?” asked Margret who was watching me wrap some meat in plastic.

“Ah yes, we are going out. I just wanted to make sure that these were wrapped up tighter. I don’t trust the butcher to do it and if it leaks It will get everywhere.” I replied.

She picked up one of the wrapped packages and looked closer to it.

“You had only picked out organs? Again.” she asked.

I looked to her and saw her looking at the kidney.

“I must have bought a little too much last time” I spoke.

She shrugged and handed me the wrapped tray to put into the cooler.

“You had tried some last week, you said you loved it” I said.

She smiled and put her hands up in surrender, “It was great, I admit”.

I found the urgency to smile at the comment.

We had arrived to a small restaurant called Mama’s Kitchen. It was one we have gone to since we were children. The original owners are long dead, but the family still ran it. As we sat down one of the sons greeted us and told us that our regulars were almost ready. I have had a habit since childhood of ordering smoked salmon with a lemon caper sauce. Margret contemplates between lobster stuffed pasta shells and squid-ink pasta. On our regular visits, she decides on the shells. Our food arrives and we start dining and talking about recent news. We had begun on the topic of family. Our parents had a divorce in the last few months. We all felt it was the right thing to do, neither one could get along with living together. Mother still lives in the same house while father lives in his old house that he has kept throughout the years. Aunt Regina has been staying with him. Our parents are still on good terms and found this decision long over- due. Everyone seems to be happier. Margret had then broke off onto another topic.

“Have you heard about the murder?” asked Margret who was cutting the piece of lobster tail within the shell.

“Another murder?!” I replied in shock, “My god, that makes what 3 or 4”.

“Police suspect that it’s even more than 5, same MO of our museum killer” she said.

“What is our police force doing with its time?” I replied, frustrated that such things have gone on. Margret agreed also. The police aren’t doing their job. More people are getting killed.

“Did they say they had any leads?” I asked, curious as to how close they were.

“They do, but it was disclosed to the public” replied Margret.

I expressed a sarcastic shrug. The police have leads and no one has gotten arrested. The murderer is still on the loose. I was worried for myself, but even more worried for Margret. Who knows who this killer would attack next. I ended the conversation in hopes that our appetites don’t spoil.

“Looks like it’ll rain” she told me.

I looked up into the sky. Yes, it does.

I’ve never told anyone this, but I’ve heard these two words most of my adult life- “wake up”. I’ve heard it in the morning drinking coffee. I hear it when I walk to and from work. Something in my brain shouts it. The voice is my voice, but desperate, angry, and afraid. Wake up. It was raining as I heard it again, this time clearer than ever before. I closed my eyes and focused on where in my mind it was calling from, and why. I searched within rooms of my mind. I could hear it moving closer, and then I found a door that was unfamiliar to me. Did I make this door? The voice came from inside. I put my ear onto the wooden frame and listened. The voice became faint- almost to a whisper. Behind the whisper was a beeping noise, like the ones you hear at the hospital. I looked at the door handle and wondered for a moment what memory I had placed in this room. My hand fell on the knob and I twisted it, opening the door.

A young boy came up to me and asked: “are you afraid?”

I told him no, but I’m unsure what this is. He told me to follow him, and I did. I felt I knew the boy, but like all dreams you may never fully recognize someone you find familiar. The boy led me back into the corridor I came through.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer right away, but as he walked further he spoke: “You’re waking up”.

I glanced at the walls and realized the wall paper was falling off. I feel as if I am a stranger in my own home. I then opened my eyes into my apartment, the rain still drizzling outside. I looked at the wall and window with a hypnotic gaze, unsure whether I was in my mind or in my life. I became convinced I was no longer in my head. Although, I knew I was different somehow. The man who closed his eyes was no longer the person who opened them. I gazed at a man walking down the alley way, he reminded me of someone. Something made a noise behind him and the man looked back. He had seen me starring at him and smiled. The boy from my memory appeared next to the window. Beside me on the coffee table was a picture of a child and his family. I could not recognize it, but the boy and I look exactly alike. I listened to the rain and watched the boy glare at the man who continued walking down the alley way.

“That smile reminds me” he spoke, then paused.

I gazed back into the alley way.

“I don’t like the way he smiled” he finished.

I watched the boy, and couldn’t help but agree. The same smile.

Another dream? I am in mystery on why these horrendous dreams are occurring. I found myself a new person, changed or rather transformed. I tell myself that I am unsure what it is that separates monsters and men. To my knowledge we are all monsters who’ve learned to suppress the urge act on it. Am I acting as a monster? No, I am ridding the world of the true monsters who hide behind the skins of men. The very thing within Adam and Eve when they were tempted to eat the forbidden fruit. The woman had stopped moving, paralyzed from a broken spine. Her ears were gone, hear no evil. Her eyes were gone, see no evil. Her tongue was gone, speak no evil. She had mumbled before, asking me why I would do such a thing.

The image had come to me- the way she smiled at me. That same smile as the janitor. The same smile as the garbage man. The smile Eve had when she took the fruit. The smile when Adam bit into it. The smile the snake had when he slithered away. The devil’s smile.

The memory made me cringe. No one knows what the other is capable of.

I am freeing her from this beast so she may not act on that evil- and one less creature roams this fragile earth. I am realizing that what I have is a gift- To see the devil in others. The Devil reincarnated in these people. Honorable work, I had thought, to cut the head of Satan before he wakes up in them. I had grabbed the chains and began wrapping her inside of it. Wrap it tighter. I looked at the woman and watched the intestines slide out. The organs remained intact by tissue. I grabbed my knife and went to work. I have never felt so alive.

Margret sat and poured over her work. The steam of cooked chicken with capers and roasted peaches filled the apartment. Her appetite was dimmed as she shuffled papers around the table, occasionally biting the food on the plate. A man had been murdered last night- chained in his basement and organs removed. With the free time Margret had in the evening, she found it appropriate to busy her mind with little projects and short-term obsessions. Her project now- investigating these murders, something that has stroked her curiosity and interest…something familiar.

Eight victims made to the public. Four men and four women who all were in their 20’s. No doubt, Margret thought, that the killer is focusing on age, but what else? None of these people were couples or related in any way, but the killer picked out pairs. Margret looked deeper at the pictures of the victims laid out on the table. It wasn’t the color of the hair, eyes, or skin that connected them. She had printed out earlier that day large poster of a map- the map of the area. In her apartment she began to pin the victims based on where their bodies were found. The farthest away was Mr. Josephine Ryder in Tawana County. Margret had visited the county only once when she and her uncle picked up David. The rest of the victims were dispersed. None lived near each other, but all lived within a 100-mile ring. The first victim- the Janitor at the Asian Art Museum. She numbered each according to the news dates. Now the occupation, Margret thought. The information wasn’t released to the public. Margret looked at the time- 1:35am. Tomorrow is a Saturday, or rather today is. She went on her computer and recorded the names and phone numbers she could find. She’ll visit the parents of the victims, and maybe she’ll get closer in catching this psychopath.

Steve Nelson- Bartender

Jonathan Chimp- Carpenter

Timothy Guidewheel- Construction worker

Josephine Rider- Garbage Man

Jeff Collins- Janitor

My nose must’ve bled in my sleep. I washed the dried blood off my hands, thankfully it had stopped sometime during my sleep. As I finished I had heard the door knock. At the time there were sirens blasting down the streets and I felt for a moment that the visitor was a police officer, but as I opened the door I had found the last person I would expect to see- my father.

“Well this is a surprise” I said.

He nodded, “just wanted to stop by” he replied.

I invited him in and offered him a cup of tea which he declined.

“I am only here to ask if you’d like to come by my place this evening for supper” he said.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, surprised that he didn’t call.

“No occasion, I was just passing through and thought I’d ask you. It’s been a while since it was just you and I” he replied.

I thought that was very kind of him and agreed to meet him in the evening. As he went out the door he turned to me and looked at my hands.

“You missed a spot” he said.

I looked between one finger and found a patch of dried blood still there. I blushed in embarrassment, telling him it was a nose bleed. He continued to walk down the steps, and I could see the corner of his mouth lift up as if he was smiling.

That evening I had arrived at Aunt Regina’s house where my father was living. He had told me that she was still in Hawaii on vacation. I found the door partly opened and shouted inside. After waiting a couple minutes I decided to walk inside. I was surprised to find no sign of my father in the house. I looked in in the kitchen, expecting a meal to be cooking, but found nothing. It was then I heard it, a rattling of chains coming from someplace. My head began to ache as I began to look in all directions.

“David, get down here!” a faint voice yelled.

I blinked and then found the small boy in front of me, starring in the direction of the sounds. My body fell into a strange sensation. I followed the boy, trying to place this scene in my mind. Again, the chains clanked against each other. The boy led me to a wall beneath the stairs and I found it to be a door. I opened the secret entrance and looked down into the darkness.

“David, I got supper ready” the voice continued, much clearer now.

I walked down the stairs and found a small light where my father stood. It was then things turned dark.

I stood in a hallway of my mind, that was familiar to me. The young boy was beside me and led me down to the door I had opened and found him before. I walked in and found myself at Aunt Regina’s house. I watched the memory play out as if it was a movie. I could hear the chains rattling and the boy’s father calling him into the basement. I followed the scared child into the secret entrance under the stairs. I had skipped forward to a scene of great disturbance. There was a man who was in his mid 20’s smiling at the child, petting his head.

“You try, now” he told the boy.

The child refrained until his father whipped his back with a chain he was holding. The boy cried slightly. I watched as if this was all familiar to me. The boy picked up a knife and went up to the woman hanging in chains. He slashed at her breast and cut open the flesh.

The father’s excitement was raised as he yelled for the boy to do it again. Again, the boy slashed at the women who cried out in pain. I watched the father put his hand in his pants, pleasuring himself at the site.

Then the scene changed and we were all at the dinner table. The boy’s father served supper for the family. As he set the plate of cooked organs and vegetables on the table in front of David, he smiled and whispered into the child’s ear: “No part goes to waste, eh? I want you to enjoy the meal after a hard day’s work... smile.”

Slowly the memory leaked through my conscious and the puddle was now becoming full. I remember this happening. I was that boy. I closed my eyes and opened them, finding myself with my father down in Aunt Regina’s basement. He looked at me as I knelt in front of a women hanging in chains. In my hand was a knife which was already covered in blood. I recognized the woman in front of me- Aunt Regina.

“I remember” I spoke in a sullen mood.

He smiled at me, “I had a feeling you would. Like father like son, eh.”

This is my purpose. I have been tasked to kill all those who have the beast within them. Expelling demons by the power of the devil. It all made sense. I smiled and grasped the knife harder, plunging into the woman. I didn’t care if I ruined the organs. I kept plunging the knife into Aunt Regina…and I couldn’t help but laugh. I now felt as if I was truly awake. The truth that had been buried inside me has now come to light. My father stood behind me, pleasuring himself. Just like old times, he thought.

Margret sat and ate half of her sandwich, crossing off Jonathan Chimp, the carpenter. She was almost done questioning the parents or relatives of the victims after convincing them that she is working as consulting reporter with the police. There seemed to be no help, she thought. A moments thought had entered her mind which almost stopped this investigation and move onto something a little less dim, but the curiosity had taken over her. One last person to visit, the mother of Joseph Ryder.

“Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Ryder” said Margret.

Margret sat in the living room while Ms. Ryder was preparing something in the kitchen.

“So you’re a reporter for the police?” she called.

Margret tried not to blush: “More of a free lance writer hoping she can be useful for the police”.

Ms. Ryder nodded and brought over a tray of apricot and cinnamon tea paired with sugar cookies. They both sat in silence for a moment, sipping the hot tea.

“What did your son, Joseph, do for a living?”

Ms. Ryder didn’t answer right away, but took a long sigh.

“He was a garbage man” he told her.

“What did he like to do in his off time?”

“Watch over the kids” Ms. Ryder replied with a tone of frustration.

Margret caught the tone and uneasily shuffled on her seat.

“What was he doing on the night he disappeared?”

“If you’re working for the police then you should know that” snapped Ms. Ryder.

“Ms. Ryder, I am not working for the police, but simply trying to get any details to aid them”.

The reply seemed to annoy her. Ms. Ryder got up and motioned to the door, “I think we’re done here”.

Margret sighed and got up. As she was walking out of the living room she noticed a picture of Joseph on the wall. She paused and looked at it, “You have a very handsome boy, Ms. Ryder”.

“Yes he is, his smile was his best quality despite what he thought”

“Despite what he thought?” asked Margret.

“Crooked smile, the bigger Joseph would smile then the more his right lip resists – he had a stroke two years before that picture was taken which paralyzed part of his face. In time it went back to normal, but his smile never really changed.”

“Ah yes” Margret replied, “I see it now”.

Margret stood in thought for a moment.

“Thank you, Ms. Ryder” said Margret who quickly left the house.

Back at her apartment, Margret looked at the pictures of the victims. She was mesmerized at the connection she found- The smile, that’s how he’s choosing them, she thought. She had called the parents of all the victims – finding out that they all had strokes in the past.

She motioned her gaze to the table where a picture of her father stood.

“The same smile as my Father” whispered Margret.

Margret grabbed her coat and went to the door. I have to warn him, she thought. As she opened the door, she found her Uncle standing on the other side.

“Uncle Treadwell, I was not expecting you” she spoke.

Uncle Treadwell smiled, “I wanted to talk about your brother, may I come in?”

“Now is not such a good time, Uncle”

Uncle Treadwell glanced inside the room and his gaze was immediately focused on something. He titled the door wider and Margret looked back to see what he was looking at.

“My God, Margret, what is this?” asked Uncle Treadwell as he walked into the house and stood in front of the board filled with clippings, pictures, and maps of the murders.

“Just a little project” blushed Margret.

“Knitting a scarf is a little project, my dear. This is something else”

Margret remained silent then looked at her watch, “Uncle, if we could talk some other time, I need to go see…”

“Did you find something” interrupted Dr. Treadwell.

“Yes, I do believe so”

“A clue to aide the police, I shall go with you to see them” replied Dr. Treadwell.

“No, Uncle. I need to go visit father. I believe he’s in danger” she said told him.

Margret had been trying to contact David, but his phone wasn’t answering. He told Uncle what clues she had found and instructed him to aid this information to the police while she was to visit her father.

It was about 4:00pm when Margret arrived to her father’s place. They both went into the kitchen and Margret began to tell him about what she had discovered.

“Did you tell the police?” he asked.

“I haven’t” she replied.

Margret’s father walked behind her, glancing at a shelf of pictures and gifts. He particularly admired a small bronze statue of fallen angels.

“You have a very keen mind, Margret” he finally spoke.

Margret didn’t turn around, but smiled, “You’re calmer about this than I thought”.

Her father immediately took the statue and hit Margret over the head with it, knocking her unconscious.

He began dragging her to the secret door into the basement.

“A keen mind, indeed. Can’t wait to see how it tastes” he smiled.

I stood in the dark bedroom at the home of Mr. Ronald- my co-worker. This has been my 3rd visit into his home in the middle of the night. The only company he had was a son of 12. I slowly walked to the bed and watched him sleep. No rest for the wicked, I thought. Immodestly I threw my handkerchief over Ronald’s face, forcing him to breath in the chemicals. Taken by surprise he waved his hands in all direction in a panic. In a short time, he went unconscious and I took him to the attic where his boy was.

After a moment Ronald woke up and looked in all directions. He couldn’t speak through the tight cloth shoved into his mouth, but I could make out the words he was trying to mumble. I turned on the light and it only took him a moment to recognize my face. Once I saw that he was familiar with who I am I turned on a second light and watched him go into a frenzy. The small lamp showed the body of his dead boy, mangled and torn.

“I know who you are” I looked at him, “who you really are” I said.

I began walking around the room, dragging the chains behind me.

“Satan” I said rattling the chains, “the tempter” I continued, “The devil hiding behind a mirror. A lie”.

He shook his head mumbling “no”.

I became upset and threw the chains over his head from behind, tightening them.

“You vile snake” I spat as I tightened the chains on his throat, “Wearing this human skin doesn’t deceive me!”.

I had spoken only that and began my work on him as I have another engagement soon after. Father has been calling me, wishing me to come over. No rest for the wicked.

I arrive at my father’s house and went to this basement. It was there I had found Margret tied In chains as my father stood in front of her. She seemed to be unconscious and blood trickled down her naked body.

“I’ve always wanted this” spoke father.

I didn’t reply and walked closer. He had told me over the phone that there was a family meeting. I now understand what he meant by that. My father smiled at me and I saw it again. There was a flicker of reality that seemed to reveal itself. There is something about my father that I am having trouble seeing.

“Kill her” he told me.

I took the knife and stared at it. I started to think about my father. He’s commanding me like a dog to do this or do that. What IS he? I looked at him somberly and he smiled again, but I had trouble seeing it before. The Devil’s final re-incarnation.

Without hesitation and I put the knife deep into my father’s gut and looked at him. He smiled no more and I had realized now that he was my true purpose. It was a shame it was so quick, but I enjoyed the slow moments of him realizing what had happened. I looked at Margret and thought about killing her, but something drew me off. She was unconscious. There was no hunt, no desire. She was hurt by my father’s hand and I had felt that she was only scrap meat for the dog my father thought I’d be. I hear sirens ringing outside the house. Policemen were now entering the house.

I hear the basement door open and the flashlights shining below. My hand grips the knife and I plunge it within my own skin. I stand frozen as my mind ceases itself within the chaos. It is the calm before the storm. I look upon the still waters of my mind and see it. The reflection of my true self. Skin as black as coal, teeth cradling pieces of human flesh. The monster un-chained. I am burning with a desire. It calls me man or mortal. It is no personal angel or relic of my identity, but a relic- nay a memory of a corrupt Eden well hidden in the dark recesses of my now broken mind. I do not despise my own creature, but have accepted it. Call It by many names, but I shall call it by its truest- I shall call it madness. It is who I am, but no more can I remain.

Slowly my sight began to dim as I notice the faint figures of policemen walking down the steps. I had heard my Uncle talking to the policeman who checked my fading pulse.

“We might still be able to save him” the police man told my Uncle as he sped off upstairs hearing the ambulance arriving.

My life was dim and dark as I heard those words and I could not help but smile at what the officer told my Uncle. Save me? Not if they knew that David was no longer dying on the floor, David was dead already. What was left now was the only madness that remained... Only the monster. If they were to revive me, they’ll regret it.