“He killed himself.”
The words came through the phone with such indifference that Brad didn’t even react at first.
“He…what?”
Slowly, it began to set in. Being out of the country for a full year had really disconnected Brad from his life in America and especially from his friends and family back home in Louisville. He had returned to the United States just over a week ago from a yearlong archaeological excavation in Mexico and was just getting settled back into his apartment in Phoenix.
“Yeah, I didn’t wanna be the one to tell ya, kid, believe me – but his mother and I agreed it was probably best you hear it from me first.” Jimmy spoke in a plain, matter-of-fact tone – not because he didn’t care or he was unsympathetic, but that was just who he was. It had been so long since Brad had talked to anyone back home at all, but he could never mistake Jimmy’s distinct Brooklyn accent. Especially now that he was so old, he sounded like he came right out of the Godfather movies.
“What? Why? Was we depressed? What the hell happened?” Confusion clouded Brad’s mind. Rob had always been the happy-go-lucky type ever since they were kids, living with only their mothers in a run-down apartment complex in one of the rougher parts of Louisville.
“Look, now’s not the time for that. You need to get on the next plane back to Louisville and be here for the visitation and funeral. You call me back at my apartment in an hour and let me know what time I need to pick you up. You got that?”
Brad let out a long sigh. He had just spent damn near 24 hours traveling last week to come back home for the first time in a year, and now he had to pack his bags again in order to attend the funeral of his best friend.
“Where am I gonna stay, Jimmy? I don’t have enough money for a hotel. I barely have enough for a plane ticket.”
“Don’t worry about that. You got family down here.”
Brad felt a small flare of anger.
“The only family I had back home died of a heart attack 6 years ago,” Brad remarked indignantly, as if Jimmy had forgotten about his mother’s passing.
“What? You don’t consider me family?” Jimmy said with faux incredulity. “That one hurts, kid, that one hurts. Look, you just get that plane ticket and let me know when I need to pick you up at the airport. We’ll find a place for you to stay. Call my apartment in one hour.”
“Okay. See you soon,” Brad said.
“Hang in there, kid. We’re all in this together.”
Brad waited for the line to go dead before hanging up the phone. For a few minutes, he simply sat on the couch in his living room, staring at his reflection in the blank TV screen. After his mom died, Brad sought a new life for himself, going to college out of state at the University of Arizona. He got into archaeology and jumped at the first chance to venture out of the country. Brad thought doing so would lead to new beginnings and a new life, but as he looked around his less-than-modest apartment and weighed the news of his best friend’s death, the only thing he felt was guilt from thinking that, by virtually leaving everyone and everything behind, he would start a new and better life. He never even once considered the possibility of never seeing his old friends again.
How could Rob just suddenly kill himself? He owned a pretty successful local barbecue restaurant in the suburbs of Louisville, had a nice two-story house in one of the safest neighborhoods in town, and had a beautiful wife. Suicide just didn’t make sense. Brad did his best to try and not think about it for the moment. He needed to focus on getting on the next flight back to Louisville.
He got up from the couch and began packing his things. He didn’t bother packing neatly, nor did he concern himself with what clothes he packed. Besides his suit, he wasn’t really worried about what he wore. Not at a time like this, anyway.
He grabbed his suitcase, locked all of his doors and got in his car. He supposed calling ahead to see if there actually were any tickets in the first place would’ve been a more practical idea, but the longer he was left to himself and his own devices in his lonely apartment, the more emotionally distraught he became. He had to get out.
The airport was a short ten minute drive from his apartment. He made sure to turn the music up loud so he wouldn’t be left alone with his thoughts. Brad wasn’t much for the “hair metal” genre that had become all the rage on the radio these days and considered band names like “Poison” to be more pretentious than edgy, but the loud nature of the music was effective in keeping him out of his own thoughts.
When he arrived at the airport, he was frustrated to discover that the next flight to Louisville wasn’t until 8 a.m. the next day. After buying the ticket, he decided to hang around the airport until it was time to call Jimmy. He needed to get lunch, and the hustle-and-bustle nature of the airport would help keep him distracted from thinking about Rob.
After taking his precious time eating a poorly made, greasy Philly Cheesesteak, Brad made his way to the nearest pay phone and proceeded to dial Jimmy’s apartment. This was one number he could never forget. It hadn’t changed since he and Rob were little kids.
Brad would arrive in Louisville around 11 a.m., two hours before the visitation. Jimmy would be there to pick him up and would run him by his apartment so Brad could change clothes before they went to the funeral home.
Brad got in his car and drove back to his apartment, desperately trying to think of a way to occupy his mind for the night. He didn’t want to have to deal with the pain until he got back to Louisville – not now while he is so far from home; not by himself.
As soon as Brad walked in the door, he took a dose of NyQuil. It was early in the evening and he estimated he’d be able to wake up in plenty of time catch his flight. He knew without the NyQuil he would just toss and turn all night, tortured by his thoughts.
Better to slip into pain-free, sweet unconsciousness, Brad figured.
Brad dreamed that night, and it was unlike any other dream he had. He was at Rob’s burial, except it was just he and Jimmy in attendance. Not a single other person was anywhere in sight. Brad was choking back tears as Jimmy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. The sun was high in the sky, but there was an overwhelming aura of gloom in the air.
“There, there, kid,” Jimmy said. “He had a good life, you know. Just remember the good times. I know I sure as hell do.”
“So that’s it, huh?” Brad finally said. “We put him in the ground and walk away?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Jimmy responded somberly. “But it’s not that simple, kid. When you leave here, you’ll carry a piece of Rob with you wherever you go, for as long as you live, for better or for worse. You two grew up together, shared everything together, and that kind of bond defies death. You will carry on his memory, and through you, everything that Rob was will live on.”
Brad didn’t say anything – he simply stared at the small plot of land Rob’s body now rested in.
“Time to get goin’ kid, we got – hey, who the hell is that?”
Jimmy’s voice became distorted as he spoke, as if he was speaking into a short-circuiting microphone.
Brad looked up. Just a few yards in front of them stood...something. It was completely motionless, and although whatever it was had no discernible eyes -- not even a face -- it felt as though it was staring at both Brad and Jimmy. Brad didn’t know how it got there without either of them noticing, but there it stood, its presence for some reason causing a feeling of panic to spread through Brad. Jimmy took a step forward, yelling at the nearly amorphous figure.
“Hey! What are you doing here?! Leave!”
The figure said nothing. Jimmy began walking towards him, cursing at him, determined to get him to leave. As he got only a few feet away from the figure, Jimmy abruptly stopped and froze in place, going completely quiet.
“Jimmy?” Brad called out. “Hey, let’s leave that thing alone. Let’s go.”
Jimmy didn’t respond, as if completely unaware Brad was still there.
“Jimmy! Come on! Let’s leave!” Brad urged him.
Suddenly, the amorphous figure began to take shape. The mess of darkness expanded and contracted and grew significantly in size. Brad was able to make out what appeared to be long, thick arms with abnormally long claws molding themselves into existence.
And then Brad noticed that some sort of tentacles or perhaps vines began sprouting outwards from the figure in every direction.
Seven red eyes appeared where Brad assumed the figure's face would be. The world around Brad melted away; he felt his own mind slipping from him as though his entire being was being ripped from within him.
Brad’s alarm jarred him awake at 7 a.m. He didn’t hesitate. He simply threw on the clothes he wore the day before, grabbed his already-packed suitcase and headed out the door. From there, it was a short drive and a relatively quick pass through the security checkpoint and Brad was seated comfortably on the plane back to Louisville. He didn’t remember his dream from the night before, although he felt somewhat unsettled when he woke up.
He was still a little hung-over from the Nyquil, so he planned on sleeping the rest of it off on the plane. As he began to doze, he considered how much he truly looked forward to seeing Jimmy. He had only seen him a few times since his mom succumbed to a heart attack, and those instances were all too brief to be meaningful. Brad did his best to avoid Louisville once his mom passed, but he never really considered how doing so would affect those back home.
Jimmy deserves better, he thought.
Jimmy was the landlord of the apartment complex Brad and Rob lived in as kids. Jimmy was incredibly sympathetic to their mothers’ situations. They were single moms with low-paying jobs. They worked as hard and often as they could just to get by and often times couldn’t afford rent. Jimmy would usually give them a free pass or a very generous extension, usually accompanied by the words, “Don’t worry about it, Ms. Hinton.”
Since their mothers worked so often, Jimmy took a liking to Brad and Rob. He was always around the complex and would occasionally play games with them, tell them stories, take them to movies, to get ice cream or other treats, and even pick them up from school. Their mothers trusted Jimmy so much, he essentially became their go-to babysitter. When Brad was older, he wondered what caused Jimmy to take so kindly to them as kids. Jimmy always seemed to be somewhat of a loner and antagonistic towards other adult men in the neighborhood. He definitely wasn’t a people-person, but for some reason, he took it upon himself to watch after two kids and their destitute mothers. Around his high school years when his childhood naivety began to fade, Brad had the somewhat awkward suspicion that perhaps Jimmy was getting certain “favors” from their mothers in exchange for free rent. After months of suppressing this thought, he finally snapped and forced himself to ask his mom about it.
“Oh, sweetie,” she had said through controlled laughter. “It’s nothing like that. Jimmy is a good man with a very complicated past. I think he believes he’s trying to atone for something by being so kind to us. I’m thankful every day that we were lucky enough to become his tenants. No telling where we would be otherwise.”
After that conversation, Brad constantly prodded his mother as to what she meant by Jimmy’s “complicated past”, but she refused to elaborate.
“If you want to know, you can ask him yourself, dear, but I suspect he has no interest in sharing his past with you,” she would always say.
The pilot’s voice from the overhead speakers woke Brad from his nap. The plane came to a steady landing, and soon Brad was walking through the all-too-familiar Louisville airport. Just last week he never would’ve thought he’d be here, yet here he was, back home and without his best friend. He grabbed his suitcase from baggage claim and walked outside to the pick-up area, keeping an eye out for Jimmy.
“Hey! Kid!”
Brad wheeled around. Jimmy was leaning against his car, chewing a toothpick and dressed in the same attire he had been wearing since Brad first met him. His trademark checkered suit jacket, khakis, loafers and fedora defined him almost as much as his native Brooklyn accent. Besides a number of wrinkles on his face and a good bit of grey hair, Jimmy looked pretty damn good for a guy pushing 70.
“Jimmy!”
Brad briskly walked over to Jimmy. They shook hands and patted each other on the shoulder.
“I hate the circumstances, but it sure is damn good to see ya, kid,” Jimmy said with a smile.
“Yeah, it’s been too long,” Brad replied.
“Come on, get in the car. We don’t got a lotta time,” Jimmy insisted.
Brad threw his suitcase in the backseat and got in Jimmy’s beat up station wagon.
“So how ya been, kid?” Jimmy asked. “Heard you were out of the country doing research or somethin’.”
“Yeah, I spent some time in Mexico doing archaeological digs. Once I graduated college, I just wanted to get as far away from home as possible,” Brad said.
“’Cause of your mother, I suppose?” Jimmy said.
“Yeah, mostly. Sorry I never really called or anything. There are hardly any pay phones around the parts of Mexico we were in. The nearest one was in this small town over a day’s drive away,” Brad said, already feeling guilty for not making any effort to contact Jimmy.
“You don’t gotta apologize to me, you know. You ever try to call Rob?”
“Yeah, several times,” Brad quickly responded. “Every time it just went to his answering machine. I’d leave him a message, but he would never answer the next time I tried. I figured he was just busy with his family and the restaurant.”
“Heh,” Jimmy muttered. “Miranda divorced him just a few months after you left the country.”
“What?” Brad said, leaning up from his seat. “Why?”
“Hell, you’ll have to ask her about that yourself, kid,” Jimmy said, shrugging. “She said he was going off his rocker or something, like the stress of his business was taking its toll, they couldn’t have kids – I don’t know. I only rarely saw Robert when he came to my part of town. He seemed a little, I don’t know, odd, but nothing that strange, you know? Just like he was in a rush or something.”
Brad mulled the news over in his head.
“Is she going to be at the visitation?” Brad asked after a few moments.
“Of course. Saw her at the funeral home yesterday right as Rob’s mother and I were getting ready to leave.”
“How is Donna?” Brad asked, realizing he hadn’t heard anything about Rob’s mother in quite some time.
“Oh, you know. Poor woman was in bad health and now she’s in worse health. Not too sure how she’s gonna handle this, kid,” Jimmy said, a worried, foreboding tone punctuating his words.
“How did Rob die, anyway?” Brad finally asked. “You said he killed himself. How?”
“To tell ya the truth, kid, I don’t know. No one knows. Not even poor Donna.”
“How can that be?” Brad asked, frustrated that he still didn’t know how his best friend died.
“Doctors won’t say. Well, they say they’re not sure, anyway. They suspect a drug overdose, but they won’t elaborate. I guess suicide is just what you go with when you’re not entirely sure how someone died,” Jimmy said sarcastically. “My guess is they don’t know, and if they don’t know, we can’t know, and I’ll tell ya one thing, kid, it’s often what you can’t know that’s the most disturbing thing of all.”
Brad and Jimmy arrived at the funeral home just in time. There was a fairly big crowd in attendance. Rob’s restaurant gained a lot of prestige locally, so he was a popular figure in the community. The visitation was closed casket, making Brad all the more frustrated as to the reason behind Rob’s death.
After catching up with some familiar faces and giving his condolences to Donna, Brad scanned the room for Miranda. He had to know what could’ve put an end to their seemingly happy marriage. As he walked around the room, he saw Miranda heading out the front door. Brad followed her.
She came to a stop a few feet outside the door and began digging in her purse. She then pulled out a cigarette and a lighter and lit up.
“Rob told me you had quit,” Brad said as he approached her.
“Oh,” Miranda said as she unsuccessfully tried to hide her sniffles, turning around to face Brad.
“Brad! Oh my, how have you been? Yeah, I did quit because of Rob. Then he died. Now look at me,” she said, taking a drag of her cigarette and exhaling. She wiped a tear away from her face.
“I heard you both got divorced,” Brad said plainly, cutting to the chase. He wasn’t trying to jump to conclusions, but the news of their divorce offended Brad in a way, as if Miranda was simply unappreciative of Rob and took him for granted.
“Well, we didn’t get divorced, exactly,” Miranda replied. “We had plans to get divorced. I moved back home to North Carolina and everything while we worked out all the legal bullshit, but we were still going through the process when he died.”
Brad gave Miranda a curious look.
“You don’t think this whole divorce thing might have played into his suicide?” Brad bluntly stated.
“I know what you’re thinking, Brad, but trust me, Rob had a lot more on his plate before ‘this whole divorce thing’,” Miranda said.
“What do you mean?” Brad’s curiosity was at an all-time high.
“He was paranoid, Brad!” Miranda said, briefly waving her arms. “And I don’t mean sort of, kind of, just a little paranoid. I mean irrationally paranoid. It was ruining our lives. Even people at the restaurant thought he was acting weird. He would try and keep me from going outside at night, even in our safe-as-shit neighborhood! He wouldn’t freakin’ sleep, and he said we should re-think having a baby. After a few months of this, I was done. I couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t blame myself for that. I just shouldn’t have moved home. I should've actually been there for him, I guess...”
Brad was stunned. This sounded nothing like the Rob he knew.
“What the hell did he have to be paranoid about?” Brad asked.
“I don’t know! He would always say vague stuff like ‘dangerous things are out there’ – not people, things – and would constantly ask and make sure all of our doors and windows were locked. He always said he was being followed. It was ridiculous,” Miranda said, exhaled cigarette smoke illustrating her words as she spoke.
“Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and he would just be standing there looking out our window, completely still and silent. I would have to say his name multiple times before he would finally acknowledge me. It was scary.”
Miranda took another drag of her cigarette and gazed at her feet.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said with a tinge of regret. “The things is, I never actually saw anything for him to be afraid of. He insisted that someone or something was following him and that he or it was sometimes at our house, but I never saw, heard, or experienced anything. It made me more frightened because I thought he really was going crazy, and it also made me more frustrated because I figured he could just be pointlessly paranoid.”
Miranda put out her cigarette and let out a long sigh.
“He eventually started going to absurd lengths to prove it to me. He started using the video camera to record whoever it was, but after watching a few of the tapes and not seeing anything, I stopped watching them and put my foot down.”
Miranda shook her head.
“I’m going to miss him. It hasn’t even hit me yet, I don’t think. Look, I have to go in and talk to Donna. We’ll talk more about it later.”
“Wait!” Brad interjected as Miranda started moving towards the door. “You didn’t see anything? Nothing that could’ve explained his behavior?”
Miranda locked eyes with Brad, as if contemplating how to respond.
“No,” she said bluntly. “If I did, I wouldn’t have thought he was crazy and wouldn’t have left him.”
With that, Miranda walked back inside. Brad began to follow her lead, but Jimmy walked out before Brad could get to the door.
“You’re gonna be stayin’ at Rob’s house tonight,” Jimmy said. “I talked to Donna – she said it’s fine.”
“What about Miranda?” Brad asked, figuring Miranda would want to stay in what was technically still her house.
“She said she’s staying at a friend’s house so she doesn’t have to be alone. Rob’s house is all yours.”
Jimmy drove Brad to Rob’s house in the suburbs. It was a comfortable if standard middle-class home, but it was a far cry from where Brad and Rob had started as kids, and that’s all that mattered. Brad was a little uneasy staying in his dead friend’s house, but it was his only option and was much nicer than his undesirable apartment in Phoenix.
“Here’s the key,” Jimmy said, fumbling through a crowded key ring.
“Now, I’m going to come pick you up tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. sharp. The funeral is at noon. Be ready, okay?”
“You got it, Jimmy,” Brad said, exiting the car and grabbing his suitcase. “See ya tomorrow.”
“See ya soon, kid,” Jimmy said as he backed out of the driveway. Brad walked in the front door and turned on the lights. The house was spotless. Everything was in place as if someone still lived here, giving the house an aura of eeriness so thick it was almost tangible. Brad walked upstairs first and into the guest bedroom, laying out the clothes he would need tomorrow. Donna had said the refrigerator and pantry were still stocked full, so dinner was already provided as far as Brad was concerned.
Brad took a tour around the house. There was big screen TV in the living room with a shelf above it containing rows of home movies. He remembered what Miranda said about Rob’s videos. Brad planned on looking through some of them and watching them later, just out of curiosity.
A hallway led from the front door to the kitchen, running parallel to the living room. Along the hallway were shelves and stands with framed pictures of mostly Rob and Miranda, but there were a few of Rob and Brad as kids. As Brad walked through the hallway and scanned the pictures, he saw one he recognized and picked it up.
It was a picture of Rob and Brad in cowboy hats holding plastic toy guns aimed at the camera. Jimmy stood in between them with his arms around both of their shoulders, a wide, exuberant grin stretching across his face. Brad smiled as he remembered the two of them running around their apartment complex, shooting invisible bad guys and keeping the noble tenants safe from evildoers. Jimmy would sometimes give them “missions” and generally play along with them. Rob was always the brave, fearless leader, and Brad had no problem with that. He was easily scared as a kid, but Rob was unafraid of even the darkest, creepiest corners of their apartment complex.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Brad had once asked Rob.
“No!” Rob had said confidently. “Those are just made up! Why would I be scared of ghosts?”
“What about monsters?” Brad continued.
“Made up!” Rob fired back.
“Are you scared of anything?” Brad asked. “You have to be scared of something.”
“Um, not that I know of,” Rob replied. “As far as I know, all those ghost and monster stories are made up to scare us!”
“But what if they were real?” Brad insisted.
“They’re not,” Rob said.
“But what if they were?”
“Well, I guess if there was something like a ghost or a monster, then I would be scared, yeah, but those things aren’t real! Why worry about something that isn’t real? It’s all in your head, Brad!”
Brad came to the kitchen and looked through the windows into the backyard. The neighborhood bordered a small but thickly wooded area. A couple of beaten paths weaved through the woods, likely leading to another street on the other side of the neighborhood.
They had about 15-20 yards of well-kept grass in their backyard before the lawn met the woods. To the right of the house was a separate garage that had a bright overhead motion-sensing light which illuminated the driveway and most of the backyard at night.
Remembering to keep himself occupied, Brad quickly began making a variety of sandwiches for dinner. As he ate, he watched a few of Rob’s home movies. Most of them were typical, fun-natured videos of him and Miranda. There were a few of events at his restaurant and even a few really old ones with Brad in them, but there was one that really stood out to him.
In the video, Rob appeared to be walking through the backyard late at night. He slowly made his way to the woods and seemed to be wandering aimlessly, swinging the camera in every direction. The timer in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen was counting much too fast and was erratically switching between numbers in no apparent logical order. After a few minutes, something briskly darted past the right corner of the lens before the camera was abruptly pointed at Rob’s feet and turned off. The video went through some static and visual and audio distortion before it became clear again, with Rob standing on the back porch, pointing the camera at the woods. Right before the tape ended, Brad noticed something move in the background. He rewound the tape and saw that it was indeed something in the woods – what appeared to be a large animal, perhaps, but it was far too large to be living in an area like this. The whole time Rob stood on the porch, the thing simply stared at him before turning to its right and appeared to float away, disappearing in the darkness.
Guess Rob had a reason to be paranoid after all, Brad thought.
A little confused and unsettled but ultimately not too concerned about the video, Brad took another dose of Nyquil, turned off all the lights, and walked up the stairs to go to bed. Whoever or whatever it was outside of Rob’s house was certainly strange, but Brad couldn't determine if it was just some part of the video being distorted. After all, Brad figured if it was real and wanted to hurt Rob, it would have rather than just leave.
Brad fondly remembered the times when he and Rob would try and scare people walking into their apartment complex after the sun went down. They weren’t very good at it, but most of the residents pretended to be scared anyway in order to amuse the two little kids.
As Brad got to the top of the stairs, he noticed an old wooden baseball bat resting on a mantle at the end of the upstairs hallway. Brad immediately recognized it.
It was the baseball bat autographed by Brad and Rob’s favorite childhood baseball star, Roger Marston. Rob always cherished the hell out of it and clearly had a special place to display it all the way up to his adult life. Brad held the bat, turning it over in his hands. It was still in perfect condition, as if he had just gotten it yesterday.
Brad shot up from bed. He was sweating profusely and felt alert. It was still dark outside and he couldn’t see a thing. He turned the lamp on and glanced at the alarm clock to see what time it was.
The alarm clock read “99:99”. Confused and wide awake, Brad got out of bed and walked downstairs to get a glass of water and find a clock that worked. He turned on a couple of the downstairs lights and made his way into the kitchen. The digital clock in there read “99:99” as well.
Dumbfounded, Brad opened one of the overhead cabinets, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water from the kitchen sink. As he took his first sip of water, he noticed that the overhead motion-sensing garage light in the backyard was on.
Weird, Brad thought, attributing the situation to a squirrel, rodent or other animal.
Brad finished his glass of water and placed it in the sink. He took one short glance back out the window and noticed something he apparently didn’t notice before.
Just beyond the reach of the garage light and only barely visible was a figure standing at the border of the yard and the woods. The figure had no discernible features, but in an instant began to grow in size, appearing to slowly take on a form. It simply stood there -- floated there -- completely still. Within a few seconds, seven red eyes sprung near the top of the most amorphous figure.
It was staring at the house; staring at Brad. Brad could feel it staring at him, but at the same time, Brad saw that it didn’t seem to have a face. It had a head – or what appeared to be a head – but it had no face.
Brad was frightened – frozen with fear. The figure – thing – just stood there, staring, slowly growing and taking shape. Brad didn’t know what it was, and that thought sent him into a panic. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t. His gaze was locked, entrenching him where he stood. As Brad reluctantly stared, the lights in the kitchen and the overhead light on the garage began to flicker. Brad could feel his heart racing, but his feet were still firmly nailed to where he was. Suddenly, a loud bang shook him from his trance. Brad swung his head around, trying to gather his thoughts. Another loud bang rang throughout the house, and Brad saw that it appeared like something was trying to break the backdoor down. He hesitantly looked back out the window. The figure had grown significantly, now with arms and legs and almost large enough to touch the tree branches, but it otherwise remained still, staring at Brad.
In the blink of an eye, Brad ran through the kitchen and up the stairs. He grabbed the baseball bat at the end of the hallway and ran back into the guest room, locking the door behind him. He huddled in the far corner of the room, trembling with fear. Slowly, he crawled over to the window in the bedroom and peaked through the blinds. The figure was now pacing the yard, appearing to float silently, looking directly up at Brad. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he remembered the video and knew it had something to do with Rob.
Brad stayed awake for hours, clutching the bat and never letting his eyes leave the door, expecting whatever that thing was to come through at any moment, or perhaps just tear the entire house down.
Brad woke up to the alarm a few hours later. He recounted everything that happened last night and noticed he woke up in the bed, although the last thing he remembered was being huddled in the corner. Brad put the thought aside and ran downstairs to use the phone in the kitchen. Brad dialed Jimmy’s number and anxiously waited for an answer.
“Yeah, who is it?” Jimmy finally answered, clearly fighting off drowsiness.
“Jimmy,” Brad said nervously. “I think I might have an idea about how Rob died.”
Thanks for reading, guys! This was an old story I wrote a long time ago and thought some people here might find it interesting. If you enjoyed the story, consider dropping by and subscribing to my subreddit over at /r/KenWrites, where I am currently writing an epic sci-fi story titled "Manifest Humanity." Hope you guys found this to be an entertaining read. :)
Submitted May 26, 2017 at 09:57PM by Ken_the_Andal http://ift.tt/2rpuge3 nosleep
No comments:
Post a Comment