Chapter 1.

Do you believe in monsters?

I do!
I never really gave it much
thought when I was younger.
Not being superstitious or having
an over excited imagination, I was
a pretty sceptical audience to any
one who wanted to convince me of
aliens, gods, ghosts and things that
go bump in the night.
I lived a pretty normal life so far,
that is, until the housing crisis hit
and rents went up, forcing many
people to move from our modest
city by the bay.
I'm 35 now, and have been in
the process of readjusting to my
new surroundings, a little town
called, Polyandrion.
I thought it was an interesting
name, but still have no idea what
it means.
The only reason I moved to this
little town of 13,000 people, is
because of the ad I answered in
a regional paper I picked up for
packing glass and breakables.
I didn't see the irony of the ad,
because, again, I don't believe in
luck and I do not entertain flukes.
I believe for every action, there is a
reaction. A cause and an effect.
Chance is for feeble minds.
We are in control.
The ad was in a paper that was
more than a month old, and part of a
thick Sunday Issue. Moreover, I had
picked up several stacks of paper.
The irony, is that, number one, it
caught my eye. Number two, it applied
to me, and number three, it was the only
ad that did out of all the papers I picked
up.
It was too perfect! I should have known
something was wrong. My skepticism
failed me. I guess I wanted it too much.
I needed it. It was like a life rope thrown
to me, when all was lost.
I mailed in my application for the
County Internal Auditor, including all
my credentials and my Bachelor's
degree in Business and Accounting.
Within a week, I received a letter from
the County Clerks office happily
accepting my application, and requesting
my expertise as soon as possible.
I mailed back my confirmation, with my
move out date, and an estimation
regarding time of arrival, with my cell
phone number.
I had a 1989 XJS Chocolate, maroon
colored Jaguar that I used as a trade
in for a Ford Explorer XLT with 36,000
Miles on it.
The Jag was in really good shape, so
I only paid the difference of about
$6,000.00 dollars, on top of the fact
that the rep at the dealership really
wanted my car.
The move went off without a hitch,
and everything I wanted to take, fit
perfectly into the little U-Haul trailer
I rented. The Ford drove smooth as
silk, with no problems and I only
had to stop four times for gas.
1800 miles later, I pulled up to the
the apartment complex that consisted
of 13 units, including the Manager's
Office, where I signed a lease for six
months just prior to my move.
There weren't many places for rent
in the same town that I'd be working,
and I felt fortunate to find this cozy
one bedroom, full kitchen, full bath,
with patio for the measly $600.00
dollars a month they were asking.
Utilities include trash and water, so
all I have to pay for is power and gas,
which shouldn't exceed another one
hundred, fifty dollars. Add cable and
phone, gas and insurance, food and
everyday living expenses, I am only
gonna be paying about $1400.00
a month, where as, in the city I paid
almost $2200.00.
On top of that, I will be making over
five dollars an hour more, than my
old job for a private accounting firm.
I saw my parking slot, Unit #6, and
parked my now dusty Ford Explorer.
Stepping out and stretching my
tense muscles, A middle aged, not
so friendly red haired woman in a
tired, dull looking red and black
plaid sweater and worn out denim
jeans, came out of her unit to greet me.
She looked sad and bored at the same
time, and I wanted to get the formalities
done with her as quick as possible.
I stepped into the dusky, dimly lit,
office and almost choked on the stale,
intrusive, lingering cigarette smoke that
permeated the air and everything around
it.
With teary eyes, I signed the rest of the
paper work, got the key code for the
laundry room and pool, got my door
key, and left with a disguised
desperation to get away as fast as I
could.
Stepping back outside was like diving
into a fresh pool of water, as the light
breeze blew the remnants of stench
off my windbreaker.
The apartment was quant, but big
enough for the little possessions I
have aquired in my life. I'm not really
a needy man. I like a few creature
comforts... My Scotch, My Cherry
tobacco with my pipe, my telescope, a
good thick steak once in a while, and my collection of Classical music that I listen
to while I'm crunching numbers.
I never was exceptional at anything...
except for math. I flew through Algebra,
Trigonometry, Geometry, Calculous, and
Advanced Algebra in school, while
achieveing B's in all my other courses.
I didn't know what I wanted to be, so
when a high school buddy told me of
the accounting firm he worked at, and
that they needed a brainiac like me,
I submitted my first application. I was
hired immediately, and since then, have
had a half a dozen accounting jobs.
During the course of my employment, I
managed to earn my Bachelor's degree in
Business and Accounting after 4 years
of study. I am really good!
I opened up the windows, turned lights
on all over the apartment, and started
unloading my possessions. Within a few
hours, I was unloaded, half way arranged,
and sitting on my recliner chair, sipping
a scotch on the rocks and smoking a
nice fresh bowl of cherry tobacco.
I picked up my cell phone to order
something for dinner, but my phone
wasn't receiving any service.
I thought to myself, that's odd, I just
payed the monthly bill before I left, and
I've never had any problems in the
several years as a customer with my
carrier.
I started to dial the 6-1-1 that would
get me to the carrier, when there was
a tap on the glass from the patio door.
I turned to see a young looking guy,
maybe twenty-two, looking in at
me with a strange but comical grin
on his face.
His scruffy week old stubble, combined
with his wild young eyes, told me
right away, he was not to be taken
seriously.
I opened the patio door, and he
immediately said, ' Hi. I'm Ted. Welcome
to the neighborhood. Have you seen my
cat'?
I shook my head, no. He shrugged, and
let out a defeated, 'Oh. Well, if you do, I'm
in unit #11. His name is Garfield, because
he's a big fat tabby cat!'
I nodded my head, and said, 'O.k'.
He turned to leave, and as he was almost
around the corner he said, 'See you later'!
I went back to the kitchen counter
where I left my phone, and it wasn't there.
I swore, I left it right there on the counter,
when I was startled by the unexpected
visit from my new neighbor.
I looked all over the kitchen. I went back
to my chair, where my Scotch was waiting
for me, the glass sweating from the
difference in temperature between the
ice cold Scotch and the warm summer air.
My trusty Sherlock Holmes style tobacco
pipe laying listless beside it.
I searched the room, the bathroom, my
suitcases that I opened. I even went
out to the Ford. No phone!
With my empty stomach growling, I
locked up the apartment, having given up
on my search for my cell phone, and got
into the Ford for a little trip to town for
some food.
I only had one glass of Scotch and
wasn't feeling the effects of the alcohol
yet, and I figured, the phone would show
up, as things that get misplaced, always
do. I still for the life of me can't figure out
what I could have done with it. I thought
I put it on the kitchen counter just before
opening the patio door.
Brushing those thoughts aside, I saw a
little burger joint, and pulled into the
dusty gravel parking lot that was half
full of vehicles.
Must be pretty good!


Chapter 2.

The burger was real good, but the fries
were kinda soggy like they weren't fried
long enough. A little too salty for my taste
as well. I ordered a mushroom swiss
on a sesame seed kaiser bun, lightly
toasted with sauted white onion and
jalapeno pepper. The beef was fresh
and prepared well. I would come back
just because of the burger.
I paid my $12.00 bill as I finished off
my root beer. Leaving two dollars in
the tip jar, I headed out to find a grocery
store. I needed a few things to tide me
over until I can go major shopping.
As I approached my Ford, it looked
like it was leaning down on one knee, as
if to let someone climb onto it's back,
like a horse. I walked toward the
passenger's side wheel.
Great! A frickin' flat tire!
Kneeling down to search the tire for
the remnants of a culprit, I discovered
a two inch slash in the sidewall.
This was on purpose! But why?
I don't know anyone here, and no one
knows me, except for the little
information that the county clerk's
office has obtained from me.
Stunned by this unforseen Good
Year tire tragedy, I looked under the
vehicle for the spare.
Good, well at least it has a spare and
it is the same series of tire.
I popped the trunk, and found the jack
and star bar to take the lug nuts off.
I have very little mechanical aptitude,
but at least I can change a tire and
maintain my engine.
After a little effort, some dusty pants,
and a skinned knuckle, I was driving
down the main road that goes through
town. Not many people were out, but
the ones that were, creeped me out!
Every person I drove past, would stop
what they were doing, and stare at me.
Expressionless, empty, pitiful faces
that bared the resentment of life
itself.
Even people driving in their cars would
turn their heads to look at me briefly,
as they were whizzing by.
Was I being paranoid? Maybe it was
the affect of bad food, or worse yet,
psilocybin. I laughed to myself,
thinking the business I just came from
dosed me. But what was with the
slashed tire? Maybe the ordeal of
the past few weeks has caught up
with me, and I am just mentally
fatigued.
I pulled into a brightly lit parking lot
that was for the local grocery store.
As I got out, I surveyed the area, and
noticed surveillance cameras on the
building. I thought to myself, Good. At
least if something was to happen out
here, it would be on camera.
No one really paid me no mind, which,
after what I experienced on the drive
here, was a great relief.
I found my way through the modest
little grocery store, and got some eggs,
bread, cottage cheese, coffee, a few
Marie Calendar's Pot Pies, some lunch
meat and cheese, sugar, tea, some
oranges and a few fresh veggies.
They had an aisle for hardware, so I
bought some cleaners, thumb tacks,
A new 9 volt battery for the smoke alarm,
and a new mop seen as how, I threw
the old one away. I looked for some
good Scotch, but they didn't have any
'good' stuff. I'm not an avid drinker, but
when I do, I want the best I can get.
I inquired of a liquor store and was told
it was about 6 miles from here.
I had a few more shots left at the
apartment, and I had to go to that side
of town the next day anyway, so I
started my journey to my new home.
As I drove, the same thing was
happening!
People on the street would stop in
their tracks, turn their heads and stare
at me as I drove past. The same with
the drivers of the other vehicles on the
street.
I was a little concerned now. Why was
everyone looking at me like that?
And why, only while driving? People
seemed normal when I was in the
grocery store.
I focused on the road. I just wanted to
get back.
After about 10 minutes, the buildings
and people started to thin out, as I made
my way to the outskirts of town, where
the apartment complex is.
I felt relief, as I pulled into the driveway
and parked my Ford, Unit #6.
I shut the engine off, and sat there for
a minute, trying to get the look of the
people's faces out of my mind.
I exited the S.U.V. as the trunk
opened upon my fingers' command from
inside the vehicle. I just love technology,
but I know we're using it wrong. It is too
weaponized when it was intended to
set us free. Free from hard labor. Free
from endless days in front of an
assembly line. Free from making
mistakes at the grocery store. I'm
starting to believe Freedom is an
illusion. Too much regulation. Too
many ways to oppress people. Too
many chiefs, and few indians.
I gathered up my groceries as I
looked around. It was getting dark, and
the complex was still, except for some-
one's television turned up obnoxiously
loud. An occasional dog bark, and the
early sound of crickets. I love that sound!
Not really a sound you hear in the city,
and if there were crickets, the city's noise
would drown them out.
I found myself a little excited that I got
to fall asleep to the lulling, hypnotic
sound of this otherwise known as,
pestilence.
I brought all the grocery items up to the
door, unlocked it and started to bring
everything inside. The Ford was locked
up and I was grabbing the last two bags,
when suddenly, a big furry animal jumped
in front of me as I was coming through
the front door. I jolted backwards, ripping
the paper bag that was in my left hand,
spilling the contents all over the floor.
I steadied myself, and looked to see a big
orange cat, bigger than I'd ever seen,
staring back at me. I cursed under my
breath, and started to pick up the things
that had fallen. When I looked up, the cat
was gone.
I shut the door, locked it, and brought
Everything into the kitchen.
After a few minutes of deciding where
to put everything, I closed the refrigerator,
the pantry and went to sit down.
My chair feels so good on a tired body.
I was too tired for a drink, so I went to
my room, changed into some loose
pajamas and brushed my teeth.
My bedroom was a decent sized room.
My queen sized bed, armour, and night
table fit with plenty of room for not
busting toes in the middle of the night.
I made my bed up, set my alarm for my
usual 5 a.m. and climbed into bed.
As I turned off my bedstand light, I
couldn't help but think of all those people
staring at me. What eerie expressions
on their faces. Like they were drained of
happiness. Like seeing me was a reminder
of their plight, what ever that may be.
I was too tired to ponder it any further
and was asleep within minutes.

Chapter 3.

3:03 a.m.
I wake up in a sweat. I'm sure I
screamed. I always do. After a while,
it gets annoying for people that might be
witness to it. I attribute the nightmares
to the loss of 2 girlfriends. The Third,
cheated on me. I came home and found
her and her lover in our bed. I knew
something was wrong when I first
opened the front door, but I had to see
for myself and confirm it. He was on top
of her. She was moaning pretty loud.
I had to come home early because of
safety sprinklers being tested in the
building. As soon as I saw them, I just
turned around, walked out of the house,
got in my car and drove off. I made sure
to slam the front door and peel off,
burning rubber in my Jag.
I came back a week later and packed my
stuff. Nicole wasn't there, so I left the key,
a note about the utilities being shut off,
and that was the last time I saw her.
I have several other quirks as well,
but the nightmares are terrible.
I've had them since I was about 11 years
old. At first, my mom and dad were
concerned, but after a while, they ignored
it and me when it happened. I had to
learn how to bring myself out of it at
an early age. My mom took me to a
psychiatrist when I was almost 12. The
man was a creepy, bald guy with thick
glasses that made him look like Mr. Magoo,
and he had a big black mustache that
looked like a big catapillar. It was real
distracting to me. Even with little creativity,
I would imagine it crawling on his face,
and up his nose, out his ear or mouth.
Sometimes I would giggle at the most
inappropriate moment and get scolded
for not paying attention.
The psychologist couldn't diagnose
anything wrong with me after a few
sessions, other than the fact I was like
any other boy my age. Squirmy, figgity,
easily distracted, mischievous... the
normal traits of a pre pubescent boy,
coming into himself. Except I wasn't
normal. I have nightmares. The same one
over and over again. I can't stand being
touched! It feels like burning on my skin.
I don't know why, but even hugging seems
to be painful somehow.
My mother was a cold woman. I don't
how she got that way. My father never
talked much about her. She never really
talked much about him, except when she
was mad or lonely.
My dad was gone all the time. He was a
long haul truckdriver, but he hauled toxins,
posions, and other hazardous wastes.
He got paid real well for it, because of the
risk involved. Sometimes, he would have
to suit up with gloves, respirator, safety
glasses... The works.
A lot of times, he and his co driver would
drive at night and sleep during the day,
because of the nature of what they were
carrying.
Sometimes I wouldn't see him for weeks.
I was an only child, but even still, my
mom and I were never close. She didn't
hold me, or coddle me when I was a
baby. I spent my toddler years in a play
pen. I was left with baby sitters a lot
as I got older, while mom went out and
did, God knows what.
She didn't smoke cigarettes, but she
drank Vodka. She had a few girlfriends
she'd visit, and once in a while, when
she couldn't find a babysitter, I would
go with her while she hung out with her
friends. Sometimes they'd go out to eat,
or shopping, and I would always get
something for being 'good'.
Other than that, my mom and I never
really spent time together. I learned while
I was young, to not depend on people to
entertain me. If I needed something, I
took care of it. I learned real fast what
was acceptable and not acceptable to
do with my mother. She didn't spank me,
or yell or get hysterical or anything. She
just ignored me. Like I wasn't there.
The feeling of being purposely ignored
was by far, the worst feeling I had ever
felt at that age. I barely got attention as
it was, but to be completely ignored was
devastating to my psyche.
My dad was always to busy or tired to
do much with me. I wasn't into sports
or the types of events where parents
would go watch their kids. The only
time he really spoke to me, was when I
got in trouble with my mother, to
reenforce her.
I got my first apartment when I was 18.
I couldn't wait to get out on my own.
I attribute my mother's callousness
toward me, part of the reason I can't stay
in a steady relationship. Who wants to
be with a nerd with mommy and touchy
issues that wakes up screaming two,
three times a week.
I guess I should mention, I have a dark
fascination with animal skulls. It started
when I was 9 when I found a Raven carcass.
Something had eaten all the flesh of it's
head, and the corpse was a hollowed out
shell, completely devoid of innards.
I was transfixed on it. I took the head off
it, peeled the rest of the flesh from the
exposed skull, and took it home.
I washed it real well, before I stuck it in
a shoebox. I didn't want to get sick and
I knew about germs and diseases.
This was the first of my collection. Now,
I have a crow skull. A cat skull. A rat
skull, The Raven skull. I have several small
bird skulls and mice skulls. I even have a
rattlesnake Skull. None of my girlfriends
cared for my little dark fascination, so I
always kept it too myself.
So now, I'm sitting there, heart pumping,
sweat pouring out of me, trying to shake
the repetitive image of a man standing
over my head with a big kitchen knife,
about to stab me. He's only there for a
second when I open my eyes, but it
always startles me and makes me jump.
The shadow is too dark to make out any
facial features, but it is a tall, thin shape,
and it always appears to be wearing a
derby hat. You know, like the one Billy The
Kid wore. Then... It would vanish!
I got up, went to the bathroom to wipe
myself off, and splash water on my face.
It always takes a few to come down from
it, and I find myself being tempted to have
a drink. Ah Screw it. One drink ain't gonna
hurt nothing! Maybe I can get back to
sleep sooner.

{Continue}

© Michael W. Taylor