Every place has a story or two about ghosts, unexplained occurrences, or just an eerie experience. All of these stories start out the same: some small little town with some creepy little house where someone died some horrible, tragic death. And for some reason those are the stories that make us look under our beds and in our closets, that make us say our prayers before we lie down to sleep. But imagine when you take out the small town, the creepy little house, and the terrible death…
Imagine that you are in an apartment, on the “right side” of town, where nothing bad has ever happened. Imagine that you come home to your cozy little apartment from work to find it as you left it, the same as every other day. You have the same friends and neighbors as when you first moved in. You wake up early and get ready for work, the same as you always do. But today just does not feel like every other day.
You get to work, and everything goes as expected, almost perfectly. Perhaps too perfect. This is one of those days that you know something is bound to happen, and all you can do is wait. The proverbial other shoe is going to drop at any moment – you just know it.
And as you drive home that evening, you get the strange sense that something just isn’t quite right…
It is a Wednesday evening, a little after five o’clock. You’re driving on the interstate, returning home from work. Traffic is a little less heavy than usual, and you are glad for it. You just want to get home and relax, even though this has been rather easy day.
You landed a sales contract with a new, big client, and your boss is beyond appreciative. You couldn’t get fired if you wanted to. What a day!
You mull the day’s events in your mind as you drive patiently along. Nobody is being pushy or hurried. It is almost as if everyone else has had a great day, too.
But you just can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is off. You have felt it since this morning when you woke up. It was such a strong feeling that you were sure that today would be a disaster. What in the world could make you still feel this way, especially after the great day you have had?
You finally make it home, and everything is precisely as it should be. In fact, everything is perfect. It’s never perfect. But today, the grass is an amazing green, the sun is shining but not hot, and the air smells great! There’s no way anything could be wrong.
You walk up to your apartment door and unlock it. As you open the door and walk inside you feel an eerie chill, like your spine is made of ice, and the hairs on your arms stand on end. You shake it off, though, and continue into the living room.
You notice that everything seems to be a dull shade of grey now. You open the Venetian blinds covering the porch door to let in some of the sunshine, but the sun is now hidden behind a thick bank of very dark clouds. You think to yourself that you don’t recall seeing any clouds a couple minutes ago. In fact, you remember the sky being perfectly clear.
You begin to rationalize that there is no such thing as a perfect day. Something has to go wrong, and it might as well be the sudden gloomy atmosphere. Besides, maybe you just didn’t notice the clouds because of your excellent mood.
You decide that a nice, hot shower will be the perfect complement to a great day. You walk down the hallway to the bathroom. You turn on the water and that’s when you notice the chill again. Probably just the air conditioner, you think to yourself.
You walk into the bedroom to get undressed. As you are undressing you feel something brush against your arm.
You turn to look but there’s nothing there.
Now you’re beginning to get a little spooked, but you talk yourself down, telling yourself that it’s nothing, just your imagination.
You put on your robe, walk into the hallway and grab a towel from the linen closet, then proceed back into the bathroom. When you close the door you notice that the water is turned off. You could have sworn that you turned it on, but tell yourself that maybe you just thought you had. Regardless, you decide to check things out, because now you’re just too spooked.
You open the bathroom door and walk down the hallway toward the living room, making sure to leave the bathroom door open. As you walk down the hallway, you see movement out of the corner of your eye, but behind you. You turn to look, and there is nothing there.
Continuing on, you go to the front door and make sure that it is locked. It is, and so is the patio. You close the Venetian blinds, and you see that the sky is almost black now, from the clouds and the impending night.
You tell yourself that your imagination is running wild, still caught up from the strange feeling this morning coupled with the unrealistically good day. Nonetheless, you go into the kitchen and grab a knife; you can’t be too careful! You place the knife into the pocket of your robe.
As you leave the kitchen you hear the water running in the bathroom again. You don’t remember turning it back on. In fact, you’re sure you turned it off. But you are pretty spooked, so maybe you’re just not remembering correctly.
You take a quick glance toward the bedroom, telling yourself that if there was someone in your apartment with you that would be the last place they could be. There was no one.
You walk back down the hallway, past the bedroom, and back to the bathroom. You close and lock the door. You look around one more time, then make sure the door is locked.
Satisfied that you are alone in the bathroom, you remove your robe. You step into shower and feel that the water is right at the perfect temperature. Maybe things aren’t as strange as they seem, maybe your imagination really is just playing tricks on you. It doesn’t matter – the water feels too good, and you step completely into the shower.
After you have been in the shower for a few minutes – perhaps five – you hear a crash coming from the living room area. You rush out of the shower and reach for your robe, forgetting that the kitchen knife is in the pocket. You cut your hand deeply, and blood is quickly pooling in your palm. Your curse under your breath, take the knife into your other hand, and put on your robe.
With your bloody hand, you gently, slowly unlock the bathroom door and quietly and carefully open it.
With a gust of cold air you’re jolted back as the door swings wildly open. You slip on the wet floor, falling backwards and hitting your head on the toilet. You try to get up, but the world swirls around you, spins and swims madly, then goes black…
You wake up in your bed. You can feel that your hand is still bleeding from the knife wound. You try to look around you, but everything is dark. You can barely even see your own hands in front of you.
You attempt to get up, but quickly realize that you’ve been tied down. Stricken with dread you scream out, but there is nothing, only deafening silence. You start to thrash about, trying to free yourself of your bindings, still trying to scream.
Then you think you see a large figure move across the room, but the darkness makes it impossible to make out what it is, or if it is even truly there.
You’re becoming more desperate now but still you can’t get free. The now obvious figure moves closer, closer, ever so slowly. The fear becomes so overwhelming now that your vision begins to blur and spin out of control. No! you tell yourself. Not now! You can’t pass out now! Not now...
You open your eyes once again. The darkness is gone. You look around the room, but see nothing. You notice that are no longer bound, and are free to move again! Quickly, you get up and search for the knife – and your robe.
While searching for your robe you glance to your left and look in the mirror. Someone has dressed you in a long, black cloak. A thick, silver rope is tied around your midsection, the ends and their tassels hang to the middle of your thighs. A solid crimson red triangle is embroidered into the cloth at the heart, and a hollow dark blue circle is on the opposite side.
Quietly and slowly, you exit your bedroom, making sure to constantly look around you. You make your way back to the bathroom, the place where you first blacked out. The knife is lying on the floor where you must have dropped it. Your white robe is in the bathtub, soaking in water, the blood staining the cloth, the tub, and the water.
You leave the bathroom and move down the hall toward the living room. As you come to the living room, you see a large, blue circle has been painted on the floor, and a red triangle inside the circle. Five tall black candles surround the symbols. Each candle is lit, and has been for some time as the wax is building up on the floor.
You spot your telephone next to the couch and walk toward it. Once you reach the phone, you pick it up, dial for the police, and put the phone to your ear. Silence. No dial tone, nothing. Then you notice the cord has been cut. You hang up the phone and tell yourself to find your cell phone, but remember it would be in your bedroom, and you know you just need to get out, and now.
You scan the room one more time. You think to yourself that whoever – or whatever – was in your apartment must have left. Still, you walk to the door, knowing you have to get out.
You try the door, but it won’t budge! You make sure it’s unlocked, and try again, but nothing. Then you notice the steel plate bolted at the top. You’re trapped!
Frantic, you run to the porch door, pull back the blinds and find that the door has been boarded over. Panicking now, you try to think of a way out.
Then you see a dark figure move across the doorway of the bedroom.
You look for a place to hide, but there’s nothing in your small apartment. All you can do now is wait, and stand your ground. And hope.
You hear footsteps coming down the hallway. You hold fast, knife in hand, and wait. And wait.
The dark figure, wearing a robe the same crimson red as the triangle symbol, moves quietly and gradually toward you, its head bowed so as not to reveal its face. Its hands are cloaked by the robe’s long sleeves, so you cannot tell if it has a weapon.
The figure is now only a few steps away, and you bring the knife up ready to defend yourself, but the menacing being stops suddenly.
Not sure now what to do you wait, keeping the knife ready, watching the robed figure. What feels like hours go by, neither you or the figure moving – the only movement is the cold air gently brushing the cut on your hand.
No longer willing to wait, you decide to lunge at the evil in front of you, thrusting the knife forward as you scream and run forward. And as your knife makes contact with the robe the figure vanishes, gone as if never there.
In your confusion you stumble forward, falling and rolling, the knife – luckily – lodging into the floor instead of your flesh. You regain your balance and attempt to remove the knife from the floor, but the effort is futile; the knife is stuck.
You glance up out of instinct and the red-cloaked figure is standing in front of you, a mere footstep away. Before you can react the figure jumps at you, grabs your throat, and forces you backward to the floor. You are pinned down and you can feel your breaths growing weaker and weaker. Your vision begins to fade and blur, the sound of the wheezing gasps for air the last sounds you hear as you slip into unconsciousness again.
You try to open your eyes, but you are too weak, your energy drained by fear and your struggle with your attacker. You cannot make out where you are, and there is no sound to be heard. The air smells faintly of blood and burned wax, mixed with some odor you cannot place. You still try to sit up, but that simple exertion is too much, and you collapse back, and fade away once more.
You are jarred awake by a familiar but out of place sound. You sit up and glance around you frantically, looking for any threat. You find none, and soon discern that you are in your bedroom, lying in your bed. Your white bath robe is neatly folded and placed on the dresser next to the bedroom door, right where it is supposed to be. There are no unusual smells.
You then recognize the sound just as it ceases: it is your cell phone sitting on your night stand. You pick it up and check to see that it is 9:34 am. More disturbingly you immediately recognize that it is still Wednesday – the same Wednesday. But how?
You look at your phone again and see that the cause for it’s abrupt noise is that someone was trying to call you. Instantly you identify the number as being your boss. You’re late!
Hurriedly you jump out of bed and rush to your closet to grab some clothes. You open the door and turn on the closet light. In a mad rush you throw on the first pieces of clothing you touch, slip on your shoes and run out of the bedroom.
As you make your way down the hallway you begin to think about the nightmare you had just endured. And what a terrible dream it was!
You get to the front door and open it quickly, and begin to step outside. And that’s when you notice it. The faint but unmistakable scent of freshly melted wax.
You stop and slowly turn to look behind you…
© Erick Pratt