Missing Knife nosleep

My girlfriend and I were making dinner one night. On the menu: An herb-crusted chicken, sauteed in olive oil with fingerling potatoes and a kale salad, a recipe she found on her favorite pinterest board. I’m usually not a fan of pinterest but I took one look at that post and my mouth started to water. I had to have to eat this dish plus the steps looked simple enough and the directions were easy to follow. A few weeks back we made the decision to cook at home more often. She wanted us to eat healthier and I read somewhere that eating at home can save money.

We were a bit rusty, neither of us had prepared a meal using a recipe in quite sometime. Usually cooking in our household entails heating up canned soup on the stove top or heating up take out in a microwave. About half way through we got into the swing of things. A wrench was thrown in our plans when she needed a knife to chop some garlic. I was using the knife at the time to slice some onions for our salad. We had a second knife so I rinsed off the one I was using and handed it to her. When I went to look for our back up knife, the one we kept on the knife block, it was missing from it’s usual place.

“Have you seen the other butcher knife? The one from my old apartment?” I asked.

“No, what’s wrong”

“It’s missing. Do you know where it went?”

“No. Last I saw, it was on the block.”

“Are you sure?” I asked “You didn’t misplace it did you?”

“How could I misplace a knife?!?”

She went back to chopping garlic. I let it go. I figured we’d finish making our meal and I’d search for it afterwards or it will turn up later.

The meal was delicious but I had a hard time enjoying the meal. I kept thinking back to the knife. Where was it? Did I accidently throw it away? Did she throw it away? Should I be worried?

After dinner, we tidied up the kitchen. I was surprised about the mess we made. It’s funny. Both of us are usually pretty clean but, for whatever reason, we decided to cook with the unabashed fury of a child left alone. “Next time, we should clean as we go” “An accomplished chef never cleans” I said.

She threw a paper towel towards me. I tried to dodge it but wasn’t too successful. The brunt of it caught my forehead. I laughed it off and began my search for the missing knife.

I must have turned the kitchen upside down...twice. I looked everywhere. In the cabinets, the drawers, even the refrigerator. Nothing. I went back to the knife block, the spot I had checked originally. The knife was still missing but i noticed a small white piece of paper in it’s place. I pulled it out. It was a note cut into the shape of the missing knife.

“Did you put this here?” “What?” “This note” I replied “Did you put this here?” “No. I’ve never seen that before.”

I opened the note. “What does it say?”

I read the note aloud.

‘Find me by 11:45 tonight and you will be rewarded with you life’

We stood there in silence. Both of us unsure what to think. Was this a practical joke? Where did it come from? Was it her? If not, what kind of person would do something like this?

I looked at my watch. 10:30. We had a little over an hour.

We debated the seriousness of the situation. We decided to aire on the side of caution and try to find the missing knife. She would take the living room and office. I took our bedroom and bathroom.

The search started out fun. It felt like a treasure hunt. Once we found the knife we’d have a story to tell at parties or during holidays. An odd thing that happened to us in our new home. As time progressed the fun slowly drained from the room. I felt myself becoming more nervous and I could hear the tension in her movements.

“Find anything?” “Nothing yet” I called out.

I looked at my watch. 10:50. Where the hell was it?

We spent the next half hour turning the house upside down. We looked everywhere. Every nook and cranny. No stone was left unturned. It looked we were serving a search warrant for hard to find contraband. Our efforts, while valiant, were ultimately futile.

“You’re not fucking with me are you?” She asked. “What if I am?” I joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. “If you’re messing with me please tell me now. It’s not funny anymore. I’m kind of freaking out”

She wasn’t lying. I looked into her eyes and saw something in her I’ve only seen a hand of times. Fear. She was doing a good job of hiding but I could tell she was scared out of her mind. I grabbed her and held her close to me. I felt tears streaming down her the side of her cheek.

“Everything’s going to fine” I said “I’ll find it. I promise”

She looked up and forced a smile. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared too.

I looked at microwave. 11:37. Less than ten minutes.

“Should we call the cops?” “Let’s wait” I said “Wait until when? Until we’re dead?!?” “Hold on a second. Let me think!” “Don’t yell at me!”

She was shaking and her breathing became exasperated. I could see the sweat pouring down her brow. She stormed out of the room. I could hear the faint sound of her sobbing. I’ve seen her to this before. She was about to have a panic attack.

Seeing her in that state must have triggered something. The last time she was on the verge of a panic attack was during the fall. It was our first month in the house. Somehow a rat had found it’s way into the attic.We must have missed it during the initial walkthrough. As she opened the tiny door to put away a few boxes, the long dead carcass of a large brown rat fell to the floor. The neighbors told me her scream could have been heard a block away. I wouldn’t be home for a few more hours that day. I found her huddled in a corner swaying back and forth taking ling deep breathes in an attempt to calm her nerves.

“I’m such an idiot. The attic!”
“What did you call me?” she yelled from the other room.

I rushed through the living room without answering. I made my way to the attic. It’s a bit embarrassing in hindsight but I hadn’t moved that fast since varsity track. I pried opened the tiny door and reached to feel around. A wave of musk and dust overwhelmed me. I felt light-headed and almost fell back.

“Found it!” I shouted in between coughs.

I pulled the knife down. To my surprised, there was something attached to it. A picture.I threw the knife to the ground and examined the photograph. It was a picture of us taken earlier that day at the grocery store. Our eyes were crossed out and there was a sad face drawn on our mouths. I flipped the picture over. There was a phone number a message.

Call me

I reached for my phone and dialed the number without thinking.
“Put it on speaker” she shouted as she ran from the other room. I put the phone on speaker. After a few seconds the line answered.

“Congratulations. You live to see another day. Maybe next time you won’t be so lucky”

There was an abrupt silence. The line went dead shortly after.

Next time? What did he mean by next time?

We debated calling the cops to tell them what we had been through. We argued back and forth for hours ultimately retreating the neutral corners. Maybe we should have called the cops but what would we say? What if he was listening? What if he was still here? I fell asleep grappling with the thoughts in mind head.

This happened about a year ago. We never spoke about it or mentioned it to anybody else. We never received any more notes. We tried calling the number again but it was out of service. Eventually, we moved on and put it behind us. My sister once told that the mind has a habit of blocking out bad memories. What she said resonated with me. I have a habit of compartmentalizing things. Especially events likes these. Sometimes something will trigger a memory from that night. The smell of burnt garlic. A messy room. Missing utensils. It’s a struggle I will probably deal with the rest of my life.

It took a awhile but we started cooking again. Almost a year to the date. In fact, I just bought a new spice rack. I just have to build it. Which brings me to the reason I decided to share this story. I went to the garage earlier this evening to grab some tools. Screw driver, allen wrench, pliers. Everything was present and accounted for. Everything except the hammer. I usually keep in the tool box for easy access. My girlfriend sometimes uses it and puts it the drawer so I didn’t think anything of it. That was until I checked the drawer. The hammer wasn’t there. In it’s place lied a small white note. My stomach dropped as I picked it up. My hands were trembling and took me a few minutes to calm down enough to read it.

Find me by 11:45 tonight and you will be rewarded with your life. Let’s see how luck you are the second time around.

Submitted June 18, 2016 at 09:42PM by BADCClives http://ift.tt/1sLHtKs nosleep