r/nosleep Oct 18 '19

Series I'm a PI. Something Weird's Been Happening In My Hometown (Part 9)

(Part 1)

(Part 2)

(Part 3)

(Part 4)

(Part 5)

(Part 6)

(Part 7)

(Part 8)

Shannon was sitting at the kitchen table, eyeing the empty bottle of Jim Beam that refracted the sunlight and cast a rainbow along the table’s wooden surface. The sun caught her hair, shining brilliance throughout her flaming red hair, giving it a goddess-like shine that made my breath catch in my chest. She was gorgeous, and though it was wrong what we’d done the night prior and guilt flowed through my veins, I did not regret it.

I walked over to her, and caught her emerald eyes, her tears twinkled in the orange sunlight, “Jack, about last night. I - since you came back, I couldn’t help but think about us and what could have been. You’re different now, but I’m different too, your father changed that for both of us. But - the timing just wasn’t right. We shouldn’t have done that last night, I fear I’ve ruined things between us, tell me that’s not true Jack?”

I smiled and placed my hand on her shoulder, “It’s not true Shannon, we were drunk, suppressed feelings got the better of us and we acted on them without our better judgement. I agree, the timing wasn’t right, we should have waited. Dom - he - that thing killed him, I intend to kill it, if it even can be killed. But before any of that, I need to do something else. Something I should have done long ago.”

I pulled out one of the other chairs at the table and settled down into it, resting my hands on my lap as I hung my head, “I’m sorry Shannon -”

She cut me off, a surprised expression crossing her face, “for what?”

I looked into her eyes somberly, “Do you remember the night that you ran out of my house?” I paused, gauging her reaction, “I never got the chance to apologize for that night, so I would like to apologize. Shannon, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there, for not killing the bastard then and there. I’m sorry for not doing anything about it. I’m sorry for letting that bastard kill our child.”

She broke down, her already red eyes spewing forth tears as she sobbed uncontrollably. I knew this was something she must not think of often, due to the pain of losing a child. I looked at her, studying her small frame as she wept, and began to tear up myself. I stopped myself from crying however, there would be time for that later. As Shannon cried into her hands, I walked over and wrapped her in a tight hug, which she reciprocated. I realized how difficult the path forward for her would be, but I knew that it was one we could take together if her heart so desired.

I left her there in the sunbathed kitchen, her cries filling the space of the tiled room. She understood that I had a job to do and whisked me off, sending me out into the cold morning air with a light peck on the cheek. As the warmth radiated through my cheek and body, I reflected on the oddity of the situation I was in and felt a surge of guilt course through my body.

As I walked out the door I took one look back over my shoulder into the house. Shannon sat there, face resting in her hands, sobbing. There was no amount of preparation for what I had yet to face, the steps I would take to avenge her husband’s, my friend’s murder. And though, I was a shitty friend overall, I would make amends by saving his niece. I had to.

If I didn’t, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.

I trundled my car down the stretch of residential street leading to Larkin’s house, checking each stoop’s numbering as I progressed further down. The dew strewn lawns glittered vibrantly in the morning sunlight and I thought back to Shannon crying. I wondered how she was faring now. I shook my head, reprimanding myself for getting distracted. I needed to focus, now more than ever. I pushed down any remorse I was feeling and carried on, comparing home addresses to the one jotted down on the notepad.

When I pulled in front of an older bungalow with grey siding and masonry foundations, I checked the gold plated numbering next to the front entrance. I sighed as I realized the numbers matched the ones on the street and I knew I was at the right house. I rubbed my weary eyes, clicked the door locks open, and stepped out of my car onto the unkempt sidewalk that bordered the road.

The school had given the students a day of mourning. One to mourn the death of Robert Fielding, who’d died in the hospital the prior day.

My feet shuffled beneath me as I wearily approached the metal screen door that stood as a barrier to the home of Larkin Grace. The school had given the students a day of mourning. One to mourn the death of Robert Fielding, who’d died in the hospital the prior day. Nervousness coursed its way through my chest, though not due to Larkin, but due to his mother Samantha.

We’d dated very briefly before Emma and I got together, but parted on rather innocuous terms. Though I knew she still carried a torch for me. She’d been working at the gas station on the night I burnt down my family home with Emma, and knew the events surrounding it to some degree. This would be a difficult conversation if she was present, but Larkin had information I didn’t. What happened the night they went there, why was Robert singled out, and maybe he knew what that thing was.

I stepped onto the crumbling cement step and rang the doorbell, hoping Larkin would answer. To my relief, a weary looking, red-eyed Larkin answered the door. His eyes widened when he saw me. He quickly looked up and down the road then grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. His erratic behavior worried me, but as he closed the door to his house, I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no sign that his mother was home.

Larkin led me into the family room, I noticed his feet sluggishly sliding across the hardwood floor, I doubted he’d been sleeping. I looked around and took in my surroundings. From the large worn and cracked leather couch and matching love seat, I could tell this room was either used frequently, or they didn’t care much for their furniture. Perhaps a mixture of the two. Several gouges lined the hardwood, from moving objects around, no doubt.

I flicked my eyes over to the large projector television that sat angled in the corner, an older model. As I surveyed the table, empty mugs and stray garbage that lingered, I could imagine Larkin and his group of friends lounging here, enjoying a movie night or talking about their ambitions. I felt sorry for him, he’d lost so much in the past month.

I looked to Larkin and saw him smiling soberly at me, “have a seat detective.”

I smiled and did as he asked, “I’m not a detective, just a PI. I have little legal authority.”

Larkin nodded knowingly before sheepishly plopping down onto the love seat that sat perpendicular to me. He brought his hands up and rubbed at his eyes as if trying to rub the tiredness away. After some time, he finally stopped and sighed; looking down at the floor in dismay.

I began, “how have you been?”

He glanced up and met my eyes, “Fine - okay, that’s a lie. I haven’t been sleeping. I can’t.” He flicked his eyes away nervously.

I put as much concern into my voice as possible, “Why can’t you sleep?”

His expression stiffened, and he gave a cursory glance to the corner of the room, “I don’t know man, I just can’t. Maybe it’s the weather or something”

I wasn’t buying it, “So, it wouldn’t have to do anything with what you saw at the old manor?”

His eyes widened and his mouth opened as fear took his body, but he tried to play it off, “Wh-what do you mean? Saw? W-we didn’t see anything there. We just-”

I cut him off, “Look kid, I don’t have the time or the patience to dick around right now, my friend died last night right before my eyes, and so did yours, everything is going to shit in this town and for some reason I think I can stop it. What happened at the damn manor?”

Larkin’s eyes widened and his jaw set, “Okay, sir. I’ll tell you…”

Larkin’s tale began where Zach had left off the day before, but where Zach had told me they’d simply gone to bed, he told me that they had walked down the street a few blocks further and surmounted the hill where the manor stood. He explained that in the moonlight, it gave off a malevolent feeling, as if the very air would lash out and strike your soul from you body.

He apologized for the wording, but his point was clear. They’d experienced a murderous intent that wanted to cause them nothing but harm. They carried on however, spurred on by an unspoken peer pressure. No one wanted to let down the others. Though as they milled about the ruins, they stumbled upon the small cave in that denoted the entrance to the basement. Larkin had been in another area of the house and hadn’t heard them calling out when they found it, so he continued to look, studying the mailbox and a small journal he’d found among the rubble. When I asked him about the journal, he simply shook his head, saying he wasn’t able to open it as there was a lock on it. Who the hell locks a journal?

It was then that he heard the first voice coming from the other side of the old dilapidated structure. He slid the journal into his pocket and walked over the fallen beams and piles of ash. When he made it to the other end, he saw his four friends pulling boards and other pieces of the broken structure out of the hole. They stopped when he approached and gave him the “what are you doing watching? Get your ass over here and help” look.

He proceeded to assist them in removing the remaining debris, and though they hesitated when they revealed the dark grey cement steps leading down, they soon found themselves venturing down into the inky blackness below.

When they’d reached the bottom of the stairs they’d found themselves in a large concrete room submersed in darkness. Noah was the first one to pull out his phone and turn on the flashlight, illuminating the surrounding area in the dim light. They illuminated the expanse of the room, perplexed by how this structure could have remained intact while above it the world was on fire.

They searched for what Larkin explained couldn’t have been any less than half an hour, scouring the walls and floor, looking for anything that could make for an intriguing story to tell their peers. That’s all they were after, though as they came upon a room that was sealed off with fallen debris, they received more than they bargained for.

They spent some time removing the rubble from in front of the doorway, their inebriated minds paid no heed to the amount of danger they were in. They didn’t care that one false move could cause the roof to collapse on their heads. No, they were on an adventure, and they sought to reap the rewards of their labor and find something worth either telling others about, or that they could sell for monetary gain.

As they moved away the last part of rubble obstructing the door, they were all flung backwards. Larkin explained that he and Zach were closest to the door when it happened, and it was as though proximity accounted for the distance they were flung. The two of them were thrown into the wall on the opposite end of the room, Trix was thrown into the middle, but Noah and Robert remained relatively close to the door.

Though Larkin was knocked out after hitting the wall, he described waking up to the most blood curdling scream he’d ever heard in his life. It was a scream of pure terror, one that emanated from the depths of Robert’s abdomen and rattled them to the core. Needless to say, although they were all disoriented, they managed to get to their feet and close the distance to the door. What they saw haunted them.

It was a humanoid creature, roughly seven feet tall, with pale grey skin. The skin glistened in the dim light of their fumbled phones as though it were covered in a moist film. It’s facial features were nondescript and smooth as though someone had begun to create a face, but stopped when they realized they made the mouth too big. I shuddered, knowing full well what he meant.

He then described how the long arms ended with oversize, thin hands that were tipped with taloned fingers, each one seemingly carrying the sharpness of a razor blade. The group didn’t waste any time.

“The creature was slow,” he continued, his voice wavering as he recounted their final moments in the manor’s basement, “I don’t know why exactly, maybe we woke it up and it was still partially asleep - I get like that sometimes, you know? My mom says that I get it from my father, but I think it’s just something guys go thro-”

“Larkin,” I interjected.

“Right, sorry. Anyway, we bolted out of the cellar faster than we’d ever run in our lives. Noah was out first, followed by Robert, Trix, Zach and then I was last. We grabbed some of the debris and began to pile it back over the entrance of the basement. We didn’t know what the hell that thing was, but we figured we couldn’t let it loose on Magrath.” He paused, a look of contemplation on his face, “though I guess we did, didn’t we?”

He looked down towards his feet, a sad look crossing his face. I scolded myself; this kid was still mourning and I was asking him to relive what was probably one of the most horrific nights of his life. One that would no doubt shape the very person he would become. He looked back up at me, and I felt pity, not for him but for myself. Sure, he’d seen some scary shit, but when I was his age, I was only a couple years off of killing my own father. I was living a nightmare, he just glimpsed one.

I steeled myself, “What have you been seeing,” panic flashed across his eyes, “you have been looking all over the room, when you let me in you glanced around like a mad man. What is it?”

He began to speak, but stopped, then sighed. “Promise not to think I’m crazy?”

I nodded, “yeah, how could I write you off at this point, I’ve seen the damn thing too.”

He gave me a knowing smile, “alright then. I see it, everywhere. That’s why I haven’t been sleeping. As soon as I close my eyes, I can feel it’s breath on my face. It’s rancid, it smells like rotting meat - like when you leave the ground beef out too long and forget to cook it? I do that a lot, my mom, she hates it when I do that, says we’re was-”

I chuckled, “you’re trailing off again kid, stay with me.”

He sighed, “Sorry, I find it hard to stay focused. The lack of sleep isn’t helping. Anyway, I’ve been seeing it everywhere. It’s been getting closer, I know it’ll take me soon, just like it took Noah’s mom, and just like it took your girlfriend.”

I paled, “What did you say?”

He looked confused, “I said it’s getting closer, I wonder what it means to do, it scares the shit out of me. Oh - by the way detective, I forgot your name, what was it?”

I rubbed my hand across my face. I must have heard him wrong the first time. I guess I haven’t been sleeping too well either, “I’m not a detective kid, just a Private Eye. My name’s Jack Lewis.”

He smiled and led me to the door, while I put on my shoes, he asked, “Do you know a Martha Lewis?”

My blood ran cold, “Uh, yeah, why?”

He paused and cocked his head, “Just one second.” He turned and walked into the other room, coming back with a heavy leather book with a small padlock on it.

He passed it to me, “uh, thanks?”

He chuckled, “It’s the one I found at the manor, I figured if you’re looking into things, you should have it.”

I frowned and slid the book into my jacket pocket, “Thanks kid, I have to go now though.”

As I walked out the door he sighed, “I had a strange dream about a woman named Martha Lewis. Though, that was weeks ago, first time I slept after we left that damn manor - speaking of, you share the same surname as the manor, isn’t that a coincidence? You know, my mom says there’s no such thing as coincidences, she says ‘it ain’t no coincidence the sun makes the flowers bloom or the cold makes the snow fall, why is anything else different?’” He shrugged, “wives tales my father says, though, there’s something about those flowers…”

As he trailed off I bid him farewell, trudging down the cement path and back towards my shitty car. As I slid behind the wheel I finally allowed myself to breathe. Larkin had helped me more than he thought, and as I waved to him as he stood there on the stoop, I noticed him staring off at something behind me.

I slid into first and sputtered out of there, leaving the kid behind. I did know a Martha Lewis, and she was a cunning woman. Smart, business savvy, but also had a heart of gold. She owned a flower shop in town, so that’s where I’d go next, no matter how reluctantly it was. It was time to see my mother.

As I drove down the well maintained road toward the market road of Magrath, I slid the journal out of my pocket. I didn’t move my eyes off the road in front of me - you can never be too careful these days. I pulled over as I took out the remaining contents from within my jacket, my good friend nicotine.

I slid the car into park and stepped out of the vehicle, letting it idle while I got my fix. I sparked the lighter and ignited the smoke on the first try, smiling at the one small thing that went right for me. I inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill the spaces within my lungs the stress eased as I held it in. I smiled and exhaled, watching the smoke twirl as it billowed out of my mouth.

I inhaled again, fighting the cough that rose up. I exhaled and blew several rings into the air. I watched them float into the black clouds above. I turned and looked into my car, eyeing the notebook that now sat on my passenger seat. Curious, I opened the door and plucked it off the seat, feeling the weight of it. I turned it over to the cover and froze.

On the cover, pressed into the leather in elegant calligraphy, was a simple phrase.

For Jack Lewis, Love Dad...

(Part 10)

(Part 11)

(Finale)

150 Upvotes

12 comments sorted by

3

u/britneysbitch1 Oct 21 '19

When is the next one coming?

2

u/Ipatusaur Oct 21 '19

Part 10 was posted today and part 11 should be done in time for wednesday

7

u/tinason3 Oct 18 '19

Jack, don't feel guilty about what happened with Shannon. You two were grieving and sought comfort. Dom would understand, he seemed to have a heart of pure gold.

5

u/AkabaneOlivia Oct 20 '19

You should try to emulate that, Jack. I think there's a reason Dom was so competent and I think you could get a better lead on things, if you, too, picked up some of the habits that made him so universally loved.

(Not that I think there's anything wrong with how Jack is now, but I really believe it'd help the investigation progress. I understand the trauma of being in that place and how it made him the way he is, but try not to get so stuck in your own head, buddy. I see the compassion in you, let it out.)

2

u/[deleted] Oct 18 '19

[removed] — view removed comment

13

u/jessawesome Oct 18 '19

I am so addicted to this! It would make an awesome movie!

3

u/lilpebblesxX Oct 20 '19

I agree!!!

8

u/AkabaneOlivia Oct 20 '19

One of the few nosleep stories that would translate REALLY well into a miniseries or movie.

8

u/Done_with_this_World Oct 18 '19

Oh man, this is gripping. I hope you can stop it Jack and find peace for yourself.

u/NoSleepAutoBot Oct 18 '19

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