Horror

Read Finder's Keeper: Part One

It took Charles a few minutes to recover from Bentley's unexpected behavior. "What in the hell is the big deal about the door?" he wondered. Whatever it was, it seemed pretty important to Bentley.

He dialed Sam's number like Ben had asked, but it was busy. With a growing sense of inexplicable urgency, he grabbed his cell phone and car keys. He told his wife that Bentley was upset about something and he had to go see him.

Detective Aaron Bower found the key while looking through the smoldering remains of the basement apartment. It almost went unnoticed, partially hidden as it was beneath the smoldering skeletal remains of the hand that concealed it. The human body was the last of the four he had closely scrutinized. Hardly surprising considering the appearance of the other three; they certainly weren't human, not by any stretch of the imagination. They were misshapen caricatures of human evolution with bulging skulls and bodies better described as animalistic than human.

Curiosity, the curse of mankind. It's not always that way obviously, and when left undisturbed, curiosity can do little to harm you. It's when your lack of understanding becomes an object of obsession, or creates an overwhelming desire to investigate the unknown that problems arise. I rarely find myself so captivated by a partial piece of knowledge that I am compelled to learn more, particularly when I feel there is little to be gained that would benefit me. Sounds boring, I know. Suits me just fine. Boring is safe.

     Here's a short story that has made the rounds but is destined to hang lonely and unread in the file cabinet unless I post it. I've rewritten it about five times and can't seem to get it quite right. (Not that I'm trying to pass a bad story off on you or anything devious like that) The ending is one of my all time favorites. I hope this story entertains you...

     "You know Simmons, this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for all those 'Save Our Jobs' activists and 'Campaign for Workers Rights' lobbyists. We've spent millions on automation, and just because some jackass Senator got his ear bent and pocket padded by a workers union rep, we got body parts littering the floor like confetti in the street after a Christmas parade. See if there are any of them left alive. I'm calling ASSMAD. It's their mess, they can clean it up..."

As Mack and Bobby cowered in fear, the music room door suddenly burst open in front of them. Mack shrieked with an ear splitting scream as the door crashed against the wall knocking a neat little hole in the plaster where the door knob hit. A blast of icy cold air gushed through the opened door forcing Mack and Bobby to turn away from the assault. With their backs now to the door, and once again facing the piano, they were shocked to see Greg suddenly reappear seated on the piano bench.They all shivered as the cold blast of air continued to swirl through the door, seemingly directed at the window. The glass shook in it's frame from the onslaught, the curtains pushed almost horizontal from the force of it. The deep red color of what the children had thought was blood flowing down the wall started to fade. It was as if the wind was washing away the blood. Soon enough, all signs of the red color were gone and it looked like nothing more than what it should have, rain water seeping under the window sill and dripping down the wall. The icy chill was gone and the room had returned to normal.

I was shaking and drooling with fright. Tina, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered nicely and was simply staring at whatever it was that spoke to us and was standing behind me. I hoped it was something human, though that is not the impression I was getting from the looks of the dead looking hand on my shoulder. I fought off the freezing effect of fright long enough to hazard a look over my shoulder. It was a witch! I knew this because she was wearing the standard witches hat...If it weren't for the fact that she had scared the shit out of me, I would have laughed. She had the long, black robe, the pointed witches hat, the long crooked nose... I would have sworn she came right out of a screen test for "Wizard Of Oz."

    I used to spend a lot of time in alleys. Not any more. Not since that night it happened. I even use the government flophouses now, not all the time, but more often than not. I just don’t feel all that much like being alone anymore...    I won’t bore you with pathetic excuses explaining why I am a bum. I could, but I won’t. It would all be a lie. I’m a street bum because I’m just to damn lazy to work. Ok, so maybe that in itself is pathetic, but it’s not an excuse, it’s an explanation.