Undue debt Part 1

A late January afternoon in 2007. Randy, a 23-year-old young guy who works in subtitling, sprawls on his sofa, haunted by the specter of his latest decisions in life. "I miss you" he chides himself, the guilt gnawing at him. As the clock nears 7pm, the phone rings. It's Kamal, Randy's best friend since high school, a bookworm whose quiet wisdom often balances Randy's impulsiveness.

"Sup, friend?" Randy greets, surprised. Julia, his mother, who usually works at the nearby hospital, rarely leaves him to his own devices at this hour.

"Finished torturing subtitles for the day?" Kamal asks, his voice tinged with amusement. "Just downstairs. Thought I'd drop by."

"Usually you break in anyway," Randy laughs, relief washing over him. He heads to the bathroom, the sound of water washing away some of the day's tension.

Moments later, the doorbell breaks the silence. "Kamal's a fast walker," Randy mutters, a smile playing on his lips as he heads to the door. He throws it open, expecting to see his friend's familiar grin.

Instead, a tall figure looms before him, clad in a dusty black duster and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. The silence stretches, heavy and unsettling. Randy's smile falters.

"Kamal? You look… different," Randy stammers, a flicker of unease curling in his gut.

The figure remains silent, unmoving, its face hidden beneath the shadowed brim. Randy's heart thumps against his ribs. This isn't right.

"Hello?" he ventures again, his voice a squeak. "Are you lost?"

Still, no response. Just the unsettling stillness and the man's unwavering gaze, piercing through the hat's shadows. Panic claws at Randy's throat.

"Look, man," he says, his voice cracking, "I don't know you. If you're selling something, I'm not interested." He steps back, ready to shut the door.

But before the wood can meet the frame, a long, pale hand shoots out, pushing the door open with unnatural strength. The figure steps forward, into the dim light of the hallway.

Randy's breath hitches. The man's face, once shrouded in darkness, is now terrifyingly clear. Hollow black eyes stare into his soul, devoid of any hint of warmth or humanity. His skin is an unnatural pallor, stretched tight over sunken cheeks.

"I know who you are, Randy," the man rasps, his voice a dry whisper that sends shivers down Randy's spine. "Your father told me a lot about you."

Randy's blood runs cold. His father, gone only a few months ago, a constant presence in his nightmares and regrets. This… this isn't possible.

But the man's chilling smirk confirms it. "I'll be seeing you again soon," he whispers, shoving Randy back with a force that sends him sprawling onto the floor.

Then, as quickly as he appeared, the man is gone, leaving behind only the echo of his words and the icy tendrils of fear that coil around Randy's heart.

Kamal, arriving moments later, finds Randy sprawled on the floor, pale and trembling. The door hangs open, a silent scream against the quiet hallway. As he rushes to his friend's side, a single question hangs heavy in the air: what happened to Randy?

At the hospital

The world unfurled around Randy like a blurry photograph coming into focus. Sterile white walls stared back, and his head throbbed like a drum solo after too much tequila. Next to him, his mom perched on the edge of the bed, hair pulled tight in a bun, face as stiff as a starched shirt.

"Mom?" His voice rasped like sandpaper.

Her head swiveled, a forced smile stretching across her lips. "Hey, honey. You back with us?"

"What happened?" Randy mumbled, memories swirling like cobwebs in his mind.

"Kamal found you passed out by the door," she said quickly, her eyes flickering like a faulty light bulb. "Doc says you're fine, just shook up."

"Shook up?" Randy echoed. "Fine as in... no broken bones? No black eyes?"

Her gaze darted away, landing on a flower vase like it held the answers to the universe. "Just a bit of stress, sweetie. Losing your dad... it's been rough."

He wanted to yell, to scream about the man with the bottomless eyes and the chilling promise, but the words caught in his throat, choked by the thick silence his mom seemed to radiate.

"It wasn't a fall," he croaked finally, the truth burning on his tongue. "Someone shoved me. Some tall dude in a duster and a cowboy hat. He knew Dad."

Julia stood abruptly, her face draining of colour. "What? Are you kidding? You got mugged? Had a bad trip?"

He saw the panic in her eyes, a fleeting glimpse of something deeper, something hidden. Then, it vanished, replaced by a tight smile.

"Just relax, Randy. We will talk about this later. Come on, get some rest."

Before he could protest, the door swung open, revealing Kamal's familiar freckled face. Relief washed over Randy like a cold drink on a scorching day.

"Randy! You're awake! Welcome back, bud." He strode to the bedside, ignoring the tension crackling in the air.

"Kamal," Randy breathed, hope flickering in his voice. "It wasn't a fall. The hat guy, he's real. He knew Dad."

But Julia was already halfway out the door, her retreating figure a silent scream of denial. Kamal, catching the exchange, squeezed Randy's arm with a knowing look.

"Don’t worry, mate," he said quietly, his eyes filled with determination. "Just try to get some rest."

In that sterile room, surrounded by the echo of his mother's silence, Randy knew two things. He wasn't crazy. And he wasn't alone. This was just the beginning.

Randy's Apartment

After being discharged from the hospital, Randy invited Kamal to his apartment. It was around 8:00 PM, and Randy was hunched over a box of his father's belongings, sifting through memories like forgotten treasures. Faded photographs, dusty letters, and a worn leather journal – each item held the potential to be a link to the mysterious man with the cowboy hat.

At the hospital

Meanwhile, driven by an unsettling feeling, Julia excused herself from her shift at the hospital and rushed to Randy's apartment. She burst through the doors and hurried to Randy's building.

Back at Randy's apartment

Randy held up the photograph, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. "This is him," he whispered, the echo of the man's words still lingering in his ears. "This is the man who came to me, the one who knew Dad."

The yellowed photograph showed Randy's father, younger and carefree, standing beside the man who had haunted Randy's dreams. Kamal leaned in, his brow furrowed in concentration.

KAMAL (Jokingly) Your father looks nice here.

Randy shook off Kamal's lighthearted remark, his focus solely on the photo. "Kamal, I need to know who this man is. And more importantly, why didn't Mom mention him when I told her about the man I saw?"

KAMAL (Thoughtfully) Maybe she doesn't know who he is. I mean, it's not that unusual for people not to know every friend their parents had.

Randy's eyes narrowed. "Maybe you're right. Or maybe... she's hiding something."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Julia opening the door to Randy's apartment and calling out his name.

Randy answered "I'm upstairs." Julia hurried upstairs, eager to check on her son. She entered his apartment and was immediately confronted by Randy, who stood frozen, clutching a photograph in his hand. The photo depicted Randy's father with a tall, imposing figure, the man Randy had seen in his dreams.

Randy's voice cracked with emotion as he exclaimed, "See! I told you I wasn't crazy!" His anger and betrayal were palpable.

Julia's eyes widened in disbelief, her face paling as she stared at the photo. Her lips tightened into a thin line, and she remained silent, her mind reeling from the revelation.

Before Randy could finish his sentence, Julia's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife. "Randy, that's not possible. This man passed away six months ago, just after your father."

Randy's heart sank as he absorbed this shocking news. How could he have seen a man who was already dead?

Julia approached Randy, her expression filled with concern, while Kamal offered to make some tea, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

The three gathered around the kitchen table, their minds a whirlwind of unanswered questions. The mystery of the apparition hung heavy in the air, a chilling presence that cast a shadow over their hearts.

Julia's voice cut through the tense silence, carrying a hint of sadness and regret. "Your father was a good man, Randy," she began, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "He loved you more than anything in the world."

Randy, still filled with mixed emotions of anger and guilt. "But mom," he protested, "when he needed you the most, you left him. You knew how much he was struggling, but you didn't stay by his side."

Julia's expression softened, her eyes glistening with tears. "Randy, I know it must be hard to understand, but I did everything I could to help your father. I pleaded with him to get help, but he refused. I couldn't watch him self-destruct any longer."

Randy's gaze fell to the photograph, his mind still grappling with the image of the man he had seen. "Mom, who is that man in the picture?"

Julia hesitated, her voice trembling as she revealed a long-buried secret. "That man was John, Randy. He was your father's best friend and business partner."

Randy's eyes widened in surprise. "John? But I've never heard of him."

Julia nodded, her expression sad. "That's because your father and John had a falling out years ago. John had a gambling problem that dragged your father down with him. Your father ended up borrowing money from John, and when he couldn't pay it back, John became obsessed with getting it back."

Kamal, who had been listening intently, interjected, "Obsessed? How so?"

Julia's voice dropped to a whisper. "John's brother was murdered, and Randy's father, Jeffery, had a strong resemblance to him. John loved his brother and the incident took a toll on his mental health. In John's mind, he started to believe that Jeffery was his brother, and he refused to let him go. He even sent him a letter years after their fall out that pushed him back into addiction."

RANDY Do you know what it said?

JULIA No. Unfortunately, your father had burnt the letter before I even could look at it. Listen to me, Randy. I need you not to worry about this. I just felt you deserved to know the truth about this man.

RANDY But, mom. How could I have seen this man?

JULIA I don't know, Randy. Maybe you saw someone else. Perhaps a person who looked just like him.

RANDY I know what I saw. It was literally the same man. But somehow lifeless.

As Julia sat there, her face blank and vacant, Kamal's eyes locked onto hers, a look of sudden realization flashing across his features. He had an idea, a possible explanation for the haunting Randy had experienced. However, he hesitated, sensing that the time wasn't right to share his revelation.

After a few moments of silence, Julia bid farewell to Randy and Kamal, returning to her apartment. The moment she was gone, Kamal turned to Randy, his voice filled with urgency. "Randy," he began, "I think I might have a way to help you."

He explained how he had recently come across a book about spirits returning to the living, and how one of the possible reasons for these apparitions was unresolved debts. Randy's eyes widened as he absorbed this information, a flicker of hope igniting within him.

Kamal encouraged Randy to read the book, hoping it might hold the key to understanding his encounter with the spirit.

As the clock struck 10:30 PM, Kamal bid Randy goodnight, leaving him to ponder the mysteries revealed in the book. Randy's mind raced with possibilities, unable to find rest.

Early the next morning, Randy awoke with a renewed sense of determination. He had asked Kamal about the book's name, and after a quick search, he found it at the nearest library. With eager hands, he opened the book, eager to delve into its secrets.

As he delved deeper into the pages, Randy's eyes widened in surprise. The book offered a wealth of information about spirits, their motivations, and the ways to interact with them. He discovered that unresolved debts were indeed a common cause of hauntings, and that there were potential solutions to appease the troubled spirits.

After spending less than an hour with the book, he was bored and decided to return home to finish reading it slowly.

Randy arrived home, the door still firmly shut. No signs of forced entry. Yet, he could hear a faint humming, almost like a lullaby. He entered the apartment cautiously, trying to trace the source of the sound, which he initially thought was coming from the television. As he passed through the hallway, he noticed someone in the kitchen. Peering through the open door, he saw a woman, her back turned, holding a knife. She was chopping something while humming the same lullaby. The sound of the knife striking the kitchen counter sent a chill down Randy's spine. He broke the silence, calling out, "Mom! I thought you were at the hospital. Did you take a day off?"

The woman didn't respond, continuing to chop vegetables with the knife. Randy was concerned; why wasn't his mother answering him? He decided to approach her, assuming she might be tired and had come home to spend the day with him. However, as he neared her, the landline phone rang, pulling him back. He retreated to the living room to answer it. The caller was Julia, his mother. "Hey, sweetie. How's everything going?"

Randy was stunned. He didn't know what to say or do. In a shaky whisper, almost inaudible, he asked, "Mom... Are you at the hospital?" Julia replied, "Yes, honey. Is everything alright?"

Randy's silence worried Julia, but she didn't hang up the phone. She repeated her question, "Are you feeling well?" Randy decided to hang up to figure out what was happening. "Mom, I'll call you back." He hung up the phone, his heart filled with fear.

He didn't want to get up from the sofa to go to the kitchen, too scared to face the mysterious figure. But, gathering his courage, he finally went to the kitchen and saw the woman still there, her back turned. He addressed her loudly, "Who are you? Answer me!"

The woman didn't respond, continuing to chop vegetables and hum her song. Randy's patience wore thin. "Why are you dressed like Mom? I'm calling the police!"

At that moment, the woman stopped chopping and let out a chilling laugh. Still facing away from Randy, she said, "Pay your father's debt, Randy."

Randy was taken aback, unable to speak. He uttered a single word that triggered the figure's fury. "What?"

In an instant, the woman turned around, knife in hand, and lunged at Randy. She held the knife to his face, screaming, "Pay his debt, let his soul rest in peace!"

Randy screamed at the top of his lungs, his fear almost paralyzing him as the woman knocked him over and straddled him, the knife poised to strike. He couldn't move, so he closed his eyes, bracing for the worst.

When he opened them, the figure was gone. But the book he had borrowed from the library lay torn on the floor, a page about unpaid debts to the dead fluttering in the breeze. Randy immediately called Kamal, his only source of solace and help. Kamal rushed to Randy's rescue, and Randy recounted the terrifying incident in detail. They decided to find the address of John, the dead man, and pay back Randy's father's debt to finally lay his spirit to rest.

Kamal, witnessing Randy's growing desolation and helplessness, pledged to locate John's address and gather as much information as he could. Meanwhile, Randy embarked on another exploration of his father's room, his curiosity leading him to a tightly sealed drawer. Upon prying it open, his eyes fell upon a well-preserved letter, its edges frayed from years of neglect. The letter bore John's name, and Randy's heart pounded with anticipation as he broke the seal.

The letter unfolded, revealing a torrent of pleas from John to his father, Jeffery, to return to him. Throughout the missive, John's deteriorating mental state was evident, his desperation reaching a fever pitch. In a heartbreaking twist, John repeatedly referred to Jeffery as Paul, his deceased brother, a sign of his fragile psyche.

As Randy delved deeper into the drawer, he was met with a chilling discovery – a dozen more letters from John to Jeffery, each bearing the same plea for his father's return. But the tone of these letters grew increasingly sinister, the messages darkening with each line.

One letter read, "I'll find you, Jeffery. And when I do, you'll regret ever leaving me." Another chillingly warned, "I'll haunt you, Jeffery. I'll make sure you never find peace."

But the most disturbing letter, the one that sent a shiver down Randy's spine, was the last one. Its contents were a chilling testament to John's desperation and the depths of his obsession. In this final plea, John outlined a series of ominous threats, promising to harm Randy if Jeffery didn't return to him.

"I'll kill your son, Jeffery," the letter read. "And I'll make sure the world knows you're the reason."

This revelation hit Randy like a punch to the gut. He realized that John's torment had not only consumed his own life but had also haunted his father, leading to his descent into addiction. It was this understanding that fueled Randy's determination to put an end to this cycle of pain.

As if summoned by Randy's resolve, Kamal's phone call rang, breaking the heavy silence. Kamal's voice held a mix of excitement and relief as he announced he had finally tracked down John's address. He was on his way to pick up Randy, ready to embark on this final, crucial mission to lay two tormented souls to rest.

As the clock struck 7:30 PM, Randy and Kamal set off in their car, their destination: John's address. Kamal, seated behind the wheel, cast occasional glances at his friend, who seemed lost in thought. "So, what do you think the debt is?" he inquired, breaking the silence. Randy sighed deeply, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "I don't know," he admitted, "but I have a feeling it's not just money. The more pressing question is, who will we find there?"

Kamal nodded, his expression grim, and they fell into a tense silence until they reached their destination. Randy parked the car and instructed Kamal to wait for him. Kamal's eyes held a flicker of concern as he watched Randy approach the imposing house, its darkened doorway casting an eerie glow in the fading light.

Randy's heart pounded in his chest as he raised his hand to knock. The sound echoed through the silence, sending shivers down his spine. The door swung open a crack, revealing a shadowy figure standing within. An ominous voice, laced with malice, echoed through the hallway. "Can I help you?"

Randy, his voice trembling slightly, replied, "I'm looking for someone who knew John. He was my father's friend, and I figured this was his address." The door creaked open wider, revealing a man dressed in an impeccable suit, his shoes gleaming under the dim light. A chilling smile spread across his face as he invited Randy inside.

As Randy stepped into the house, a sense of unease washed over him. The man's appearance was unsettling, his movements stiff and unnatural. He offered Randy a cup of tea, his eyes gleaming with a sinister glint. Randy accepted, his mind racing with the realization that something was terribly wrong.

He cautiously broached the topic of his father's relationship with John. The man nodded, his smile widening into a grotesque grin. "Indeed, they were close," he replied, his voice dripping with malice.

Randy's curiosity piqued, he inquired about the man's connection to John. The man's face contorted into a twisted expression, and he let out a chilling laugh. "After years of being trapped in a desolate, lonely realm, I finally found a way to break free," he declared.

The man rose from his seat, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. He paced restlessly, his footsteps echoing through the silence. "You know what makes me sad?" he asked, his voice laced with a haunting melancholy. "Loneliness. The idea of being trapped in a desolate, lonely realm, where I yearn to inflict pain but am confined to tormenting myself."

A pause hung in the air, heavy with unspoken dread. The man abruptly halted his pacing, his eyes burning with a malevolent intensity. He slammed his fist against the wooden table, sending a shockwave of fear through Randy's trembling body. "I'm sick of it!" he roared, his voice echoing through the house like a death knell.

Randy recoiled in horror, his mind reeling with the realization that he was not dealing with a mere mortal. A chill ran down his spine as the man's words sank in, confirming his worst fears. He was in the presence of a malevolent spirit, a tormented soul seeking vengeance. He attempted to make his escape, but the man blocked his path, his eyes burning with a malevolent intensity. A scream echoed through the house as Randy fled, his heart pounding in his chest.

He stumbled into a darkened room, his eyes darting around wildly. In the dim light, he spotted a framed photograph of John and his brother. The man chasing him through the house was the deceased brother, his eyes wide with terror. Randy's blood ran cold as he realized that his father's debt was his soul and body.

Meanwhile, Kamal, growing increasingly concerned for Randy's safety, began searching the book Randy had been reading. He stumbled upon a passage that sent a shiver down his spine: "When a spirit is unable to rest, they may seek to reclaim their debt by possessing the body of the in debt."

Kamal's eyes widened in horror as he realized the danger Randy was in. He leaped out of the car and ran towards the house, determined to save his friend from the clutches of the malevolent spirit.

Kamal's knocks on the door went unanswered, but the cries for help echoing from within prompted him to break the window and enter the house. Once inside, he desperately searched for his friend, shouting his name at the top of his lungs, but there was no response. The sound of Randy's muffled voice seemed to be coming from somewhere within the house, but Kamal couldn't pinpoint its source.

Randy, terrified and disoriented, stumbled upon remnants of John and his brother's dark deeds – strands of hair and haunting photographs of their victims. As he delved deeper into the house's macabre past, he began to sense the presence of tormented souls, their pleas for salvation echoing in his mind.

Suddenly, Randy felt a presence in the room. He peered from his hiding place under the sofa and saw a pair of shiny shoes approaching – the same ones John's brother had worn. The man lunged forward, grabbing Randy and attempting to drag him from his hiding place. His hands were cold and clammy, his fingernails long and sharp. With a vicious swipe, he cut Randy's cheek, drawing blood.

Kamal, guided by the sound of Randy's struggle, raced towards the room. "Randy, where are you? Open up, I'm here!" he called out, his voice filled with urgency. The door remained shut, and Kamal began to pound on it with his fists, desperate to reach his friend.

Inside the room, Randy fought with every ounce of strength he possessed against the malevolent spirit that had possessed him. The man tightened his grip around Randy's throat, trying to choke the life out of him. With a desperate cry, Randy managed to break free from the spirit's grasp and stumble to his feet.

He snatched a photograph of John from the table and held it up, taunting the spirit. "Go to hell!" he screamed, lunging his body at the man through the room, in an effort to push him out of the window. It was in that moment, Randy realized, the spirit of that man was trapped in the house and it needs a new body to be able to break free. So, if he pushed him out, he would disappear. But the spirit, undeterred, lunged at Randy, clinging to his back like a malevolent shadow.

As Randy fell unconscious to the floor, Kamal finally broke down the door. He rushed into the room, his heart pounding in his chest, and saw his friend lying lifeless on the ground. The malevolent spirit had vanished, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Kamal scooped Randy into his arms and rushed him to the hospital, where he reunited with Julia. He recounted the horrifying events that had unfolded, leaving both of them shaken and filled with dread.

A few hours later, Randy regained consciousness, and Kamal was by his side. "Welcome back, buddy," Kamal said with relief. Randy smiled weakly and replied, "I'm never opening or knocking on doors again." The two friends shared a nervous chuckle, but Kamal couldn't shake off an unsettling feeling.

There was something different about Randy, an unsettling aura that made Kamal's skin crawl. When Kamal inquired about the events in the house, Randy's response was vague and unconvincing. "I handled it," he said curtly, leaving Kamal with more questions than answers.

Over the next few days, Kamal's suspicions grew stronger. He visited Randy's apartment and used the spare key he kept for emergencies. Randy wasn't home, but the computer was still running, displaying a webpage filled with pictures of young women, their names, work addresses, and personal interests neatly listed.

Kamal's heart sank. What if John's brother had possessed Randy and was using his body to continue his reign of terror? He sat there, his mind racing with fear, when he heard a loud voice from behind.

"Can I help you?" Randy asked, emerging from the bathroom. Kamal turned to face him, his eyes wide with shock and fear. His gaze fell upon Randy's face, and he felt a chill run down his spine. Randy's eyes, once filled with warmth and kindness, now held a sinister glint. Kamal stepped back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had a feeling he was no longer looking at his friend Randy, but at the malevolent spirit that had taken his place.

To be continued...