Leigh Grissom | http://leighgrissom.com Sun, 17 May 2020 02:21:58 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.4.3 http://leighgrissom.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/cropped-syringe-filled-blue-2-e1554614065323-32x32.png Leigh Grissom | http://leighgrissom.com 32 32 MIRROR MAN http://leighgrissom.com/2020/05/mirror-man/ http://leighgrissom.com/2020/05/mirror-man/#comments Sun, 17 May 2020 02:21:58 +0000 http://leighgrissom.com/?p=7972 Mirror Man

© 2020 by Leigh Grissom

May 1, 2021

I think I’m losing my mind.

I must be. Diaries are stupid and I don’t have time for this. I’d love to talk it out with someone, but they’ll just eyeball me like I’m a loony and I don’t have time for that, either.

I’m going to be dead soon. I’m sure of it. Please, whoever finds this – I need you to understand that I didn’t do this of my own free will. I’m a loser, but I’m not suicidal. I just don’t think I have a choice anymore.

I can’t keep going.

**

Friday nights were the worst.

Eddie told himself every Friday morning that this one would be different, but it wasn’t. He’d clock out from work, go home, and have his first beer while he changed into his jeans. Less than two hours later, he’d be in a cab heading downtown for a night of binge drinking and picking up someone who would drive him home if his best friend didn’t show up to rescue him. After last call, he was usually too broke to take a cab.

“But at least I don’t drink and drive.” Eddie muttered to himself, hoping it would make him feel better.

It never did.

**

The bartender at Sweeney’s cut Eddie off after only four beers.

“Enough is enough, Eddie. You’re done for the night.”

“Oh, come on, Denny, I’ve had a hell of a week.” Eddie protested. He thought about making a scene, but he didn’t. He never made waves. Ever.

“Dude, I’ve been doing this forever.” Denny told him. “And I know people who come here to be social, and people who come here to drown something. You’re trying to drown something, and I won’t be a part of it.” He slid Eddie a basket of fries. “On the house. Eat, drink some water, and go home, Eddie.”

Eddie snorted in half-drunk disdain. “A bartender with a conscience. You’re so … damn … right. Thanks, Denny.”

“You need cab money to get home?”

“Nah. Some jackass bartender cut me off early, so I have enough.” Eddie grinned.

“Bite me, Eddie.” Denny walked off to help another customer.

Eddie shook his head and laughed. “Goodnight, Denny!” He slid the fries to the couple next to him, dropped a twenty on the bar, and headed out into the night.

**

The evening air was a cool relief from the stuffy, smoke-filled club. Eddie took a deep breath and his head cleared a little. He decided to take a short walk and sober up for a few, then he’d hail a cab.

For the first time in months of Friday-night carousing, he looked at the other store fronts in the club district. Sandwich shops, a couple of full-scale restaurants, one sex toy shop, dive bars by the block, and

PSYCHIC READINGS BY MADAME AGNESSA.

Eddie stopped and stared at the purple neon flickering in the window. He’d never noticed the sign before; how long had a psychic been so close to his favorite place to drink?

“Ah, what the hell.” It was early, he still had cash on him, and he’d never been to a psychic. Maybe she could help him get the lottery numbers so he could start a life somewhere else.

He straightened his T-shirt, smoothed his hair, and stumbled into the shop.

“Hello?” he called.

The room was cozy, lit only by one small touch-lamp on a stand near the door and several pillar candles on an old wooden table in front of a bay window.

“Hello?” Eddie called again.

A woman’s voice called from a darkened doorway opposite from where he stood.

“Hello! Sign the guest book by the door and I’ll be right there.”

“Uh, sure.” He scrawled his name and waited, not sure why he didn’t just turn around and leave. He noticed a list next to the guest book and read the services she offered.

“Huh. Past life readings.” Maybe he’d ask for one and figure out if he’d always been a loser, or was it just this lifetime.

“Here I come!”

She was older, but Eddie couldn’t determine her age. Silver hair stretched down past her shoulders in thick waves. She was dressed in a blue and white sarafan that left everything to the imagination. She moved like a dancer, and Eddie found it strangely charming when he realized she was barefoot.

“Hello, traveler! Have you come to find answers?”

“Uh, well, yeah, I guess so.” One answer he wanted was where she was born. Her accent was soft and almost lyrical. The longer Eddie looked at her, the more he wondered if she was really as old as he’d originally thought.

“Good, good, come and sit.” She indicated a small table in the middle of the room. “My readings are done here.” She pulled out a chair for him. “I am Madame Agnessa. Welcome.” She sat down on the opposite side of the table and regarded him with wide, gray eyes. Eddie felt like she was looking straight into his soul.

“What is your first name, traveler?”

“Eddie.”

“Hello, Eddie.” She took a deck of cards from a pocket of her dress and laid them on the table. “I can show you the answers you seek. Present, the past, and even the future. Tell me your desire.”

“How about a past life reading?”

“Ah yes, past lives, past lives.” Agnessa shuffled the cards and laid five face-down on the table. “Who were you, Eddie? Close your eyes, breathe deep, and clear your mind.”

This was ludicrous and he knew it, but he was still a little drunk, and he had no reason to go home. He closed his eyes.

“Mind clear, heart clear, soul clear, let me hear. Clear the clouds so I may see who my friend Eddie used to be.” A short pause. “I see a man.”

Well, that’s good. At least I wasn’t a duck or something. Eddie almost laughed, but thought better of it. He shivered, but didn’t open his eyes.

“You are good-looking, well-dressed, dark hair, darker eyes. You are adored throughout the country. I see voting booths. A politician? No, wait … higher than that… don’t open your eyes, Eddie, and reach your hands toward my voice.”

He leaned forward and reached out. Her cool hands took his, and he felt a sudden shockwave up both his arms. He tried to pull back, but her grip was firm.

“I see … no … this isn’t before. This is coming. This is who you will be. I see…” Her hands shook. “It’s you. You’re the one…”

He was sobering up quickly. Eddie opened his eyes. Agnessa’s eyes were squeezed shut, and tears slipped through her thick eyelashes. Still, he couldn’t break her grip.

“Diavolul … the end of everything…”

Fear chased the rest of the alcohol from his system. “What does that mean? Madame? Agnessa? Let go of me!”

The psychic’s eyes flew open and she let go of his hands. A sudden blast of cold air shot through the room, blowing out the candles and plunging them into near-darkness.

Eddie was very, very afraid. “What the hell was that?”

Agnessa pushed away from the table and scrambled to her feet. “Get out.” When he didn’t move, she pointed to the door. “I said get out!”

Eddie stood up. “What did you see?”

“You will return, Eddie … and you will bring death to millions! Monster! Diavolul! The end of everything! Get out!”

“What are you talking about?” He backed toward the door. “What do you mean?

“Get out!” Agnessa flashed the sign of the evil eye at him. “Go! I cast you out!”

Eddie reached for his wallet. “At least let me –”

“No! Keep your money and get out! Never come here again! Diavolul!”

Eddie left quickly, her shouts of “Diavolul!” following him into the night. His whole body felt chilled, and he couldn’t make sense of what she’d said.

The end of everything?

It was bullshit. It had to be! He quickly walked several blocks away from the shop, and hailed a cab to go home.

“She’s crazy.” He shivered, remembering that cold blast of air. The terror in her eyes. “She has to be crazy.”

**

May 2, 2021

I looked up every possible way to spell what that crazy witch said to me. The closest I can get isDIAVOLUL. It’s Romanian for “devil.” I’m not a devil! But the things I’ve seen since then – it makes no sense! Did she do something to me? Was there something in the air that I breathed in? Did she hypnotize me?

One thing’s for sure. Her shop is gone. Completely. I went back and looked for it, and it’s like that shop front has always been empty. Where did she go?

What the hell is happening to me?

**

Eddie hid in his apartment all day Saturday, and only left to do his laundry on Sunday. Every time he remembered the terrified woman screaming at him, he would turn up the TV and try to distract himself. He craved a drink, but wouldn’t give in to the desire. He knew, deep down, she was full of it. All psychics were. But God, she was so adamant, so convinced he was going to come back as this “diavo-whatsit” that he couldn’t just write off her fear.

Reincarnation. He’d seen movies. He’d read dumb stories in the tabloids about kids who knew too much about the past. But it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be!

He jumped when his phone rang. Eddie laughed out loud; Madame Agnessa didn’t have his phone number. He didn’t write it down in her guest book.

Still, he had to swallow and gather his nerve before he could answer.

“Yeah?”

“Eddie! Dude! I’ve been calling for two days! Why weren’t you at Sweeney’s Friday night?”

Eddie exhaled. “Jim. Hey man.”

His best friend laughed. “Um, yeah, that’s my name on your caller i.d. Where were you?”

“Denny cut me off. I left early.”

“He’s never done that before, has he?”

“Nah. But now he seems to think I have a problem.” He might be right, but not the problem he thinks I have.

“How noble. So, we pick a new place to drink next time.”

“Yeah, sure, okay.” Eddie pulled himself off the couch and wandered into the bathroom. “You bringing Savannah?”

If she wants to come. She’s kinda pissed at me, though, so it might be just us.”

Eddie hoped it was. Jim had been his best friend since elementary school, and Eddie loved him like the brother he never had. But Jim had a habit of picking chicks Eddie couldn’t stand for more than five minutes. Savannah took clingy and annoying to a whole new level.

“Dude. Where’d you go? Your crap phone drop the call?”

Eddie chuckled. “Nah, you just got boring. Call me later this week.” He ended the call and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.

“The hell?”

Someone else looked back at him.

“No. This isn’t happening.” Eddie wanted to look away, deny it, but he couldn’t.

He was older than Eddie, but not by much. His hair was black, cut close, styled to a perfection even Eddie’s barber couldn’t muster. His eyes were dark, almost black, and he stared back at Eddie with curiosity and … something else.

It looked like hunger.

“No.” Eddie told the mirror. “No. This is bull. I’m making this up. That psychic did something. This is so not real!”

The man in the mirror gave him a nod, then pointed to his watch. Even through his confusion and terror, he noticed it was a Rolex. Nice.

“What … what does that mean? Who are you?”

The man pointed at Eddie.

Eddie backed away from the mirror. “No. No. She’s done something to me. She hypnotized me!”

The man shook his head in a solemn “no.”

“Nobody asked you!” Eddie barked. His laughter echoed in the tiny bathroom. “I’m losing it. This is bullshit!”

The man tapped on the mirror.

Eddie refused to turn around. “No. I am not hearing that.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Eddie looked back. The man breathed across the mirror, casting a cloud of condensation. With his fingertip, he wrote backward, so Eddie could read it perfectly.

I SEE YOU.

“No!” Eddie reached for the light switch. The bulbs over the mirror flickered and blazed, illuminating the hair he hadn’t bothered to clean up when he shaved that morning.

The man in the mirror was gone.

“No no no no no…” Eddie staggered back to the kitchen. The bottle of rum on the counter beckoned to him, and he answered.

**

Monday morning showed up unannounced.
“Dammit.” Eddie slapped at his alarm until it stopped beeping its way into his skull. Hungover, and he had to be at work in an hour. Dynamite.

He never drank on Sunday nights. It was his one valiant attempt at acting like an adult. He started out every week sober and ready to act like he gave a damn about his job.

Until today.

Eddie stumbled to the shower, careful to avoid even glancing at the mirror over the sink. Part of him didn’t believe what he’d seen last night was real. The other part of him believed it, and had knocked down half a bottle of rum to try to forget.

It didn’t work.

By the time he finished his shower, Eddie felt a little better, but he stared at the sink while he brushed his teeth. He didn’t want to see that good-looking bastard staring back at him. Eddie couldn’t shake the memory of whoever he was –

Was? Didn’t he mean “will be?” Eddie laughed as he did his best to brush his hair without looking in the mirror. He dressed for casual Friday a week early; jeans, T-shirt, and the pink Crocs he wore just to irritate the bitch in the payroll department. It made him feel a little better.

But he still avoided the mirror.

It had to be hypnosis or something. Maybe it would wear off.

There was one thing Eddie knew for certain.

He would never go to a damn psychic again.

**

“Eddie? Eddie!”

Eddie jumped, and quickly put down his cell phone. He’d been googling anything he could find on reincarnation, and other Romanian words just so he could say he knew more than diavolul.

His boss hated it when the office grunts were on their phones during work hours. And he hated Eddie more than anyone else in the company.

“Really, Eddie?”

“Sorry. I was on hold and got distracted.” Eddie was glad he used a headset; unless Chuck pulled the phone log, he’d never know he hadn’t made a single collection call in the last hour.

“Insurance?”

Eddie nodded. “Yessir. You know how slow Aetna is.”

“Sure, sure, don’t pick up your phone while you’re on the clock. You should be trying to verify their insurance online while you wait for them to pick up. Focus on denied charges; the more we appeal, the better our books look.”

It was a speech Eddie had heard a thousand times in the five years he’d worked at MedCall, but he nodded enthusiastically and slipped his phone out of Chuck’s sight. “You got it, boss.”

“Suck-ups don’t impress me.” Chuck snapped, and bumbled off to hassle another collector on his aisle.

Eddie glanced down at the scratch pad he used instead of a fidget spinner.

THIS IS YOUR LIFE?

“What in the hell?”

The handwriting wasn’t his.

“Oh my God oh my God…”

A tinny voice in his headset interrupted his mini-freakout.

“Thank you for calling Aetna. Account number?”

“Oh! Sorry, let me get that number…” When did I dial the phone?

Eddie tore the page off his scratch pad and threw it away. Suddenly, he was doing everything he could to avoid seeing his reflection in the monitor of his computer. And for the first time in months, he made his call quota.

**

May 3, 2021

My handwriting changes now. It’s weird. I normally write like a serial killer, but these messages I keep finding are tight, legible, and in all caps. I’ve started throwing pages from my scratch pad in the shredder because I don’t want anyone glancing into my trash and seeing shit like –

HOW CAN YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?

DESTROY THE ONE WHO BERATES YOU.

YOU POOR BASTARD. DO YOU HAVE A WOMAN?ß That one pisses me off.

I’m not making this up. This isn’t a joke. I’m gettingscared. What if he’s real? What if that crazy psychic got it right? What if I come back as someone who’ll kill millions?

Can I stop this? Stop him? Or am I just losing my mind?

I still won’t look in the mirror.

**

Tuesday came with another hangover. But he shaved, put on one of his better suits, and went to work, determined to stay off Chuck’s radar.

He should have known better.

“Well now, look at who we have here.” Chuck said after Eddie clocked in. The human potato made sure to say it loud enough to catch the attention of two collectors on his row.

Eddie sighed. Corey and Delayna both hated him for reasons he couldn’t figure out, and he honestly didn’t care. Plastic people got on his nerves, and those two were a special level of fake.

Someday, he’d get up the nerve, trace their home phone numbers, and tell their respective spouses Corey and Delayna were sleeping together.

But now they watched, and snickered, and no doubt planned their lunchtime gossip session to amuse the rest of the collectors. His whole team would know what happened.

“What do you want, Chuck?” Eddie stared at his boss. “You usually don’t bust my balls this early.

Chuck bristled. “Excuse me?”

Eddie couldn’t believe he’d said it, but he kept going. “You should really try pleasuring yourself more often. You might be less of a jackass. Now say what you’re going to say and waddle on, because I have a goal to hit.”

Corey and Delayna stared at him with wide eyes; when Chuck glared at them both, they turned away and put on their headsets.

Chuck stared at Eddie in shock. “I should write you up for that. But … just sit down and work, Eddie. And save the suit for someone who thinks you’re special.”

Eddie smiled. “Did you find release from such a weak insult? Have a fine day, Chuck.”

Chuck backed away from Eddie, and hunkered with Corey and Delayna to no doubt discuss new and unusual ways to fire him. Though it felt fantastic to finally call that miserable jackass out on his verbal abuse, Eddie was still in shock over what he’d said to his supervisor. That wasn’t like him.

Eddie never made waves. Ever.

Eddie fired up his computer and pulled up his call list for the morning. Maybe he was just overly tired. Maybe he needed to stop drinking on work nights.

Maybe some crazed sociopath who wasn’t even born yet was speaking through him.

“I’m going insane.” Eddie muttered, and called GEICO on a motor vehicle accident claim.

**

Eddie soundly beat every collector on his team, bringing in over half a million dollars in the space of five days. Chuck, still smarting over being embarrassed, avoided complimenting him, but the Director emailed him with heartfelt congratulations, and even gave him an extra day of paid time off.

Great. I’ll take it when I figure out what the hell is happening to me, Eddie thought, but thanked the Director, and used the bonus in his paycheck to buy a new suit. The suit, a better haircut, and his new assertive attitude carried him through to Friday and another planned night of drinking with his best friend Jim.

He didn’t feel like debuting his new look to Denny at Sweeney’s, so he asked Jim to meet him at CrimeScene. It was one of the dumbest-themed clubs in the city, but it was crowded and loud. If he could get drunk enough to unlock his tongue, he’d tell Jim about the psychic. About the man in the mirror. About suggesting Chuck should play with himself more often.

He chuckled. He’d tell Jim about that last part, anyway.

Eddie took a cab to CrimeScene and let the hostess frisk him as he stood inside a chalk outline of a body, then graciously tipped her a twenty he didn’t know he had in his suit jacket to find a table in the back. The perky, vacant blonde showed him to his table, and he jumped when she pinched his butt before she sashayed back to her station. He thought about asking for her number, but he thought he might wait until he and Jim left the club. It would impress his best friend to see Eddie flirt with a woman.

“Ed!”

Eddie saw Jim and waved him over. His smile faded when he saw Savannah tagging along with him. So much for talking out the Mirror Man with Jim. This mouthy bitch wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.

Still, he stood when she approached. “Hey, Savannah.”

She stopped and stared at him. “Eddie? Is that you?” She gave him that haughty sneer he hated almost as much as her laugh. “You never dress up like this. Who died?”

Eddie ignored her and fist-bumped Jim. “Beers are on the way. What’ll you have, Savannah?”

“Just seltzer water. I’m driving.”

Damn. He had hoped she would drink. She didn’t talk as much when she drank.

Jim was sizing him up. “Seriously, dude, you get a raise or something? That suit isn’t cheap.”

“Nah. Just got tired of dressing like a scrub. I’ve had enough of Sucky Chucky the Potato Man, dude. I think it’s time to look for something else.

“You know, you really shouldn’t talk about your management like that.” Savannah said. “If someone around here knows who he is and hears you, you could get fired or something. Then how would you buy your knockoff suits?”

“Savannah!” Jim barked. “Give it a rest, would ya?”

“Why? He’s a loser, Jimmy! We were supposed to go to dinner and talk about saving our relationship, but I have to watch your drink with him?”

“No, you pathetic shrew, you don’t.”

Savannah bristled, and her face turned a very unattractive red. “What did you call me?”

Eddie leaned forward. “Shrew. Vulture. Harridan. Look up that word if you need to. I’ll wait.

Savannah was apoplectic. “Jimmy? Are you going to let him speak to me that way?”

“Yes. Yes, he is.” Eddie said. He held up his hand when Jim tried to protest. “He is going to let me talk to you this way. But don’t worry your bleached-blonde head off your little neck. He’ll choose you over his best friend even though he knows you’ve screwed around on him multiple times since you’ve been together. He’ll choose you, put the ring on that bony finger, and I’ll wander off into the sunset knowing that, while I miss my best friend, I never have to look at your mis-matched nipples showing through your too-sheer T-shirt. You paid your doctor way too much for those fakies, Savannah. Eddie stood and threw a fifty down on the table. “Call me later or don’t, Jimbo. I’m going to go find out what time the hostess gets off work.”

**

May 4, 2021

Whoever finds this, go by CrimeScene and tell Gina the hostess I’m sorry. I really did like her. Fantastic body, fun to talk to, intelligent – everything I wanted in a girlfriend. But I couldn’t keep in contact. Not knowing what I know. And after everything else that happened; I didn’t want to risk her life, too. Tell her Eddie said he’s sorry. That she deserved a better shot at a long life.

I did all of this. I mean, it was my body, my hands, my fingerprints – I did it, but I didn’t do it of my own free will. Please. Someone go look in the mirror and see if he’s there, because I can’t.

**

There was a voicemail waiting for Eddie when he came back upstairs after walking Gina to her taxi.

“Eddie, you jerk, I had to spend all night listening to Savvy trash you about being so mean. Dude, that’s my girlfriend! Man, I don’t want to lose you, but she’s gonna lean on me until I tell you to go to—”

Eddie hit the delete button. Jim was his best friend. He’d put up with his long history of dating annoying women, but Savannah went above and beyond. She hated Eddie and he knew it, but if she made Jim happy, well, that was fine with him.

But he didn’t have to hang around the preciouscouple anymore.

He showered, shaved, dressed in his new suit, tied his own tie instead of resorting to a clip on, pulled on his freshly-shined shoes, and left for work.

He landed a decent parking spot for once, paid the meter for the day, and headed for the elevator. He hated them, but he didn’t have time to run the stairs.

The elevator doors slid shut.

“No. Oh, come on, what the hell?”

It wasn’t his reflection staring back at him. Eddie backed up, hitting the opposite wall of the elevator. He wondered, crazily, what building security would think if they saw him lose his shit, and forced himself to stand still.

The Mirror Man waved at him

“No way, dude. You’re not real.” Eddie hissed under his breath. “Go away.”

The Mirror Man shrugged, and shook his head “no.”

“You got a name, asshole?”

The Mirror Man threw his head back, and Eddie could tell he was laughing. Eddie was just about to flip him off when the doors slid open. Eddie quickly clocked in and hustled to his cubicle. He hoped Chuck was already ass-deep in doughnuts and would leave him alone.

He wasn’t.

“Well, hello, Eddie. And congratulations.”

Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes and focused on logging in to his system. “Congratulations for what, Chuck?”

“Not only have you been dressing like an adult, but you haven’t been late in over a week!”

Eddie put on his headset and pulled up his call list. “You done?”

“Oh, I haven’t started yet, you freak.” Chuck snarled. “I’m going to write you up for what you said to me. Corey and Delayna will sign as witnesses.”

“After they finish beefing each other?”

“Excuse me?”

Eddie spun his chair around to face Chuck. “I’m busy. Someone has to make calls since they’re too busy trying to break the baby-changing table in the downstairs restroom. So, if you’re through waggling your pecker around, please go away so I can work.”

“Uh, fine. But we’re not done.”

“Sure, okay.” Eddie turned back to his call list with a smile stretching from ear to ear. It was the second time in less than two weeks he’d made Chuck back away from him.

His email dinged. He pulled it up as he punched in his first phone number.

Eddie,

I’d always suspected Corey was cheating on me. Thank you for the proof I needed. I’m calling my lawyer now.

You’re a good guy, Eddie. Thank you for this.

​​Melissa

“Oh my God.” Eddie disconnected his call before it could ring. He opened the email attachment and stared in horror at video of Corey and Delayna going at it hard and heavy in the downstairs restroom. There were even photos of Corey taping an “out of order” sign on the restroom door to ward off interlopers.

Who took the pictures? Had he done it? If he had, when? And how did he know Melissa’s email address? He’d only met her at the company Christmas party, and they’d never spoken.

At least, he thought they hadn’t.

Eddie wanted to leave, clock out and go home, but he couldn’t. He called on his first claim, and tried to pretend he didn’t feel good about what he didn’t remember doing.

He made goal again that day. And Chuck avoided him like the plague.

**

That night, Eddie crawled into his favorite sleep pants and well-worn U2 concert shirt and threw himself down on the couch, determined to avoid any social contact that didn’t involve pizza delivery.

And any reflective surface.

“Not tonight, creepy corporate mirror man.” he told the empty apartment, and laughed out loud. Guess that’s what I’ll call you. Mirror Man. Sure wish you were already born so I’d know your damn name.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Eddie froze, a sloppy slice of pizza dripping sauce onto his shirt.

“Oh, come on!” He turned up the TV in response, trying to drown out the tapping. But he couldn’t resist the curiosity. He had to know if his apartment had mice, or if some not-born-yet weirdo was trying to get his attention through the mirror. Again

Eddie went to his refrigerator for another bottle of beer. “I’m going to need AA because of you, asshole!” he called down the hall to his bathroom.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m coming!” He flipped on the bathroom light.

“Dude. Really?”

Another message had been written in condensation.

TWO DOWN, TWO TO GO. YOU SHOULD THANK ME.

“You did this? You sent those pics? How? What the hell is going on?”

Nothing. No Mirror Man, no new message. Eddie laughed despite his fear.

“Fine. Thanks. I hated them both. Melissa and Tommy? They’re both nice people. They don’t deserve this. Now, let me eat my pizza in peace.”

He headed back to his couch and collapsed. He heard the tapping again, but this time he ignored it.

**

Corey’s bellow of rage interrupted Eddie at the time clock the next morning.

“Bastard! You ruined my marriage!”

Corey lunged. Eddie didn’t think. He sidestepped the attack and let Corey crash face-first into the opposite wall. Eddie clocked in quickly so he wouldn’t be counted as late, and ducked when Corey flew at him again.

“Really, Corey? You banging that hag Delayna didn’t affect your marriage at all?”

Corey lashed out, and Eddie leaned into the punch, taking it across his jaw. It hurt, but—

Eddie laughed at him.

Corey stopped. “Seriously? You’re laughing?”

Eddie nodded, and pointed at the security camera. “Smile, jerk.”

Corey groaned. “This isn’t over, you son of a bitch.”

Eddie laughed again. “Yes. it is. You assaulted me. I hope you have time to pack your desk before the cops get here.” He turned his back on Corey and walked to his desk. Delayna glared at him with pure hatred, and Eddie blew her a kiss.

**

Eddie bought a six-pack of beer to celebrate Corey losing his job (and being arrested) and wondered how hard it would be for that jackhandle to post bail.

“I’ll get killed if he gets out of jail.” Eddie told his empty apartment.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Oh jeez, how are you getting louder?” Eddie pulled himself off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. “What do you want now?”

He was there. Well-dressed, perfectly-coiffed – the epitome of a well-dressed King Cobra. Or the Antichrist.

“Gee, if I’d known you were going to dress up, I would have shaved.”

Mirror Man shook his head. More condensation, and a message:

DESTROY THE ONES WHO BERATE YOU.

“Yeah, I know. You wrote that on my scratch pad at work. You had something to do with getting him arrested? No one knows who called the cops.”

Mirror Man shook his head again and pointed at Eddie.

“Look … I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I don’t know why I’m even talking to you. I’m not going to admit you’re real. But … can’t that psychic be wrong? Do you really plan on killing millions?”

The man in the mirror’s expression darkened. He breathed across the mirror and wrote:

YES.

“Jesus. Why? You have free will! Why would you do this?”

Mirror Man tapped his Rolex.

“What? You got a time limit? You can only drive me psycho for ten minutes at a time?”

SOONER THAN LATER.

Understanding broke through Eddie’s beer-haze. “You … want me to end it, so you can be born earlier?”

A nod.

Eddie backed away from the mirror. “No. No way. I won’t do it. I’m not going to bring you here!”

NO CHOICE. EVERYONE DIES.

“Yeah, but not today. Go away, Mirror Man.” He found his way back to the couch. “I won’t. I’ll find a way to stop you.”

**

May 5, 2021

I got a raise at work. Chuck was pissed to announce it at the staff meeting, but it could have been worse. I could have accepted the promotion they offered me.

Jim still isn’t talking to me, but Savannah is sending hateful texts from Jim’s phone. I guess I’m supposed to believe it’s from him or something. Problem is, Jim can spell. She speaks in that weird Gen Z abbreviation-speak that makes no sense without a decoder ring. I won’t answer them; I thought about playing with her, but there’s no point. I still want my best friend to be happy.

Hey, Mirror Man? If Savannah Giles-Bernard is still alive when you show up? Get her first.

**

Ten days flew past, with Chuck ignoring him, Delayna glaring at him and trying to sabotage his call list (she couldn’t), and no contact whatsoever from the Mirror Man.

Eddie felt better than he had in weeks. No alcohol, no hangover; he even went to the gym to run on the treadmill for the first time in the four years he’d been paying for a membership.

Maybe it was over. Maybe he’d been right about the whole hypnosis thing, and it finally wore off.

“Just say no to psychics.” he muttered as he shaped his goatee. He thought about reaching out to Jim and decided against it. Tonight, he’d go back to Sweeney’s, limit himself to iced tea, and prove to that douchebag Denny that he didn’t have a problem.

At least, not anymore.

He got the reaction he wanted when Denny saw him.

Wow! Eddie! Is that you?”

“Hey Denny. Burger medium, hold the onions.” He ambled toward one of the tables.

“Hey, whoa, what is this? You’re not sitting at the bar?”

“I think I’ll try a different view of the place, Denny.”

“Your usual to drink?”

“Iced tea. Sweet.”

Denny smiled. “My pleasure, Eddie.”

I did it, Eddie thought. Maybe now I can live longer, keep him away longer. Figure out what the hell to do. There’s got to be a way to stop this.

When he got home that night, still stone cold sober, he went straight to bed. A good night’s sleep felt like the best way to celebrate “the new Eddie.” He thought he’d go for a run in the morning. A real one. Outside.

He’d been asleep four hours when his cell-phone rang. Bleary, he grabbed for it.

“Huh? Hullo?”

“Eddie?”

“Jim?” Eddie sat up. “Dude, it’s 2:00 a.m. What’s wrong?”

“She’s dead, Eddie…”

“She? Who?”

“Savvy. Savvy’s dead. Somebody killed her…”

Eddie grabbed for his jeans. “I’m coming, dude, where are you?”

“We’re outside Sweeney’s. I was clearing our tab and she went to the car. I came out and she was … oh God, Eddie…”

“Hold on, buddy, I’m coming.”

**

Eddie brought Jim back to his apartment after they’d spent all night at the police station.

“They always look at the boyfriend.” Jim stammered when Eddie handed him one of his last beers. “But I couldn’t. She was a pain in the ass, but … you know I didn’t do it, right, Eddie? Denny, other witnesses inside and outside, they knew it wasn’t me.

“Dude, there’s no way you would have done that. I know it.”

“Who would do that? I saw it, man. There was so much blood … her throat…”

Eddie sat down next to his best friend. “Jim, listen to me. You did not do this. They’ll catch the bastard who did.” He indicated the beer Jim held. “Knock that back and I’ll bring you another one.”

Jim eyed him with concern. “Eddie? It’s Friday. You’re sober.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Trying something new. So those last four in the fridge are yours.”

He talked to Jim until he stretched out on the couch and fell asleep. Without thinking, Eddie ambled to the bathroom to brush his teeth before trying to get some sleep himself.

Mirror Man was there.

Eddie groaned softly, careful not to wake Jim.

“What do you want?”

Mirror Man shrugged.

“It’s been days. What have you been up to?”

Mirror Man breathed across the glass.

YOU SHOULD THANK ME.

“For what?” Eddie hissed.

THE BITCH IS DEAD.

Eddie had to grab the sink to keep from falling. “You … you did this? How? You’re not even born yet?”

Mirror Man pointed at him.

“No. No. I came home, went to bed. I’m sober. I didn’t black out. I didn’t do this. For God’s sake, go away. You’re not real!”

Mirror Man shook his head sadly.

I’M ALMOST DONE.

“No. No more, dammit. No more…”

He tapped his Rolex again.

I’M WAITING.

Eddie turned off the bathroom light and stumbled to bed, thankful Jim didn’t hear any of the exchange.

Who is it? Who’s next?

Eddie wanted to sleep. He didn’t.

**

Eddie stayed close to Jim the entire weekend. Savannah’s family had flown in to claim her body; they were taking her back to Kansas to bury. Jim wanted to fly with them for the service, but her family said no, blaming him for “keeping her in such an awful place like Dallas.” Her mother had screamed and beat her fists against Jim’s chest, telling him he was the reason she had been murdered. Jim tried to reason with them, but it was no use. Eddie kept him talking, grieving, and quite drunk the rest of the weekend. Eddie stuck to water.

He drove Jim back to his apartment Sunday evening.

“Dude, you sure you need to be alone?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah. I need to get her stuff together and get it out of there. I know her family won’t want it, maybe I can take her clothes to a shelter or something.”

Eddie knew that self-righteous bitch would hate helping others, so he smiled and agreed. “That’s a good idea, man. You need some help?”

“Nah. I’ll do this on my own. Thanks for everything, dude. See you Friday?”

“Sure.”

Eddie watched Jim until he closed his apartment door before driving away. He knew he shouldn’t glance in his rearview mirror, but he did.

“I should’ve known.”

Mirror Man waved happily.

“Dammit. If I look back and you’re sitting there, I’m wrecking this car.”

Mirror Man smiled.

“Don’t bother breathing on my mirror, dude. It’s too dark for me to read it.” Eddie slammed his fist on his steering wheel. “Why her? I mean, she was a bitch, but Jim loved her…”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Explain it later. I’m driving.”

No answer. When Eddie looked again, Mirror Man was gone.

“I can’t keep this up.” Eddie turned up the radio to drown out his thoughts. “I just can’t.”

**

“Sign this.”

Eddie looked down at the piece of paper Chuck had slammed on his desk. “And what is this?”

“I told you I’d write you up for what you said to me. In addition, you sent a personal email to Corey’s wife, and instigated the assault that forced the company to fire my best collector.”

“Seriously? He was your best collector?”

“Just sign it.”

“Get HR up here and I will.”

Chuck puffed up like an angry blowfish. “There’s no need for that. I’m your manager.”

Eddie stood up. He kept his voice low and measured, and made sure everyone on Collector’s Row heard him.

“As a manager, you should know that no personnel matters will be addressed unless we are in the Human Resources office, or a member of Human Resources joins us here.” He folded his arms and stared at Chuck. “So,either you and I can take a walk to HR, or they can come here. You’re the manager, so you choose.”

“You’re fired.”

“Am I?”

Chuck turned on his heel and walked away. Eddie sat down and pulled up his call list. While he spoke to Blue Cross Blue Shield about a surgery claim, he typed an email outlining Chuck’s constant harassment and sent it to Human Resources.

**

May 6, 2021

I found the bloody clothes in the dumpster behind my apartment. I should have pulled them out, burned them, but I didn’t. Old sweats and one of my old Ratt concert shirts. I put those on before I went to bed that night, before Jim called me to say Savvy was dead.

I went to bed early. I don’t remember getting back up, driving across town … and I don’t remember taking a knife to Savannah. But those clothes, all the blood – it had to have been me. Been him. Been him working through me. Something.

Somebody, please save me.

**

Chuck was in HR the next morning when Eddie clocked in. Eddie pulled up his call list and logged into his email. Bill, the head of Human Resources, had sent him a note to thank him for reporting Chuck’s harassment, and to let him know it would be addressed with disciplinary action.

It’s about time.” Eddie muttered. His morning got even better when he found out Delayna had put in her two-week notice. She flipped him off every time she walked to the break room; he just kept calling on claims and raking in the payments.

When Chuck returned from his meeting with HR, he ignored Eddie completely. Eddie guessed he must have gotten a warning, which wasn’t near enough punishment, but it was a start. Corey was in jail, Delayna was quitting, Savannah was dead, if Chuck would just –

“Oh, shit.”

Almost done. The Mirror Man said he was almost done. Was it Chuck?

And, as much as he hated himself for admitting it, would he care if it was?

**

The next morning, Bill from HR called Eddie to his office.

“Have a seat, Eddie. I have something I need to talk over.”

Eddie sat down, uneasy. “What’s up, Bill?”

Bill sat down across from him. “I’ll just get right to it. We want to offer you a management position.” He held up a hand before Eddie could protest. “I know you turned down the last one, but this is over your current department. I know you are more than qualified to run the business office.”

Eddie’s stomach knotted. “Sir? I don’t follow. Where is Chuck?”

Bill paled. “Oh. Oh Eddie, I thought you’d heard. Chuck was killed last night.”

“Oh my God.” Eddie ran his hand through his hair. “What, I mean, how … what happened?”

Bill shook his head sadly. “He was walking home from the convenience store about a block from his house. He was hit by a drunk driver.”

“Oh man…”

“Yeah. This is where it gets weird. Some people say he stumbled off the curb and was hit. Some say he was pushed, but they didn’t see who did it. Eddie, you okay?”

Eddie couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry. It just came as such a shock.”

Bill nodded. “I know. It’s been a blow to all of us. I know Chuck was a bastard, but he did have a family. I’ve asked for Employee Assistance to meet with your team to help process any grief and to assist with the transition to you as their new manager. That is … if you’ll take the position?”

Eddie said yes. He didn’t know what else to do.

**

May 7, 2021

This is it. It’s over. I have to run. If I run, start over somewhere, he won’t be able to destroy the people around me. I’ll still die, but maybe no one else around me will.

He’s real, he’s coming, and you’re all screwed.

I won’t be. I’ll be dead.

I’m sorry.

**

That night, Eddie went to the bathroom mirror and called for the Mirror Man.

“Come on, you son of a bitch! Show yourself!”

The Mirror Man appeared moments later. He shrugged, asking “what do you want” without saying a word.

“You killed Chuck.”

Mirror Man shook his head and pointed at Eddie.

“Cut the crap, asshole. You know you did it. I hated him, but that was no reason to kill him!”

Words in condensation.

YOU WANTED HIM GONE.

JUST LIKE THE WOMAN.

WHY DO YOU FIGHT WHAT YOU REALLY ARE?

“I am not a monster! You are!”

STOP DENYING IT.

“Who else? Who else is on your list?”

Mirror Man shook his head.

LAST ONE.

Eddie pushed back the urge to rip down the mirror and throw it out the window. “Dammit! Who? Who is it?

Mirror Man smiled and tapped his Rolex.

YOU.

“No. I’m not going to end it. I already told you!”

IT’S DEATH OR THEM.

“Them? Who?”

A knock on his apartment door.

“Police! Eddie Martin, open the door!”

Eddie turned back to the mirror. “You bastard!

TEXAS = DEATH PENALTY.

More knocking.

“Eddie Martin! Open up now! We have a warrant!”

Eddie stepped back. “No. I won’t go out like that.”

He had owned a gun for years. He’d only shot it once. He grabbed it from the safe in his closet.

“Eddie Martin! We won’t ask you again!”

Eddie stuck the gun under his chin.

“Good luck, assholes.”

Eddie fired. Down the hall, the mirror shattered.

**

The worst thunderstorm to rip through Dallas drowned out her cries of pain.

But he was here now. The labor had been hard, but it was worth every second of agony. She cuddled her son against her chest and smiled through her tears.

“He’s so beautiful.” She traced a fingertip along his porcelain cheek. “He’s going to do great things in life. I just know it.”

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WORLDWITHOUTEND, AMEN http://leighgrissom.com/2020/02/worldwithoutend-amen/ http://leighgrissom.com/2020/02/worldwithoutend-amen/#comments Sat, 01 Feb 2020 23:26:30 +0000 http://leighgrissom.com/?p=7395

WORLDWITHOUTEND, AMEN

© 2020 by Leigh Grissom

Featured in the March 2020 issue of The Scribe (Breaking Rules Publishing)

They come.

They always come.

It doesn’t matter if they’ve heard the stories.

It doesn’t matter if they’ve been warned.

They come.

They always come.

And by the knocking of the door, there’s one now.

Might as well let them in.

Alaina closed her notebook and hooked the pen to the spiral. Her watch said 7:00; not quite full-dark, but close. Whoever they were, they were brave to venture through the forest so late.

She called out, “Coming!”

She wanted to add, “idiot,” but didn’t. It wouldn’t matter. These curious, self-centered, asshole young people never learned.

This time, it was a couple. She guessed he was in his mid-twenties; the young woman might have been twenty at best. Snappily dressed, well-coiffed, perfect eyebrows –

Crap. Millennials.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded more congenial than she felt.

“Um, so, yeah…” The young woman brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re from the paper…”

Alaina almost laughed. These little nitwits probably couldn’t spell the word “paper,” much less work for one.

“Which one?”

“The, uh…”

Alaina held up a hand to stop the woman from lying again. “It doesn’t matter. Come on in.”

The couple stepped over the threshold. After the usual “oohs” and “aahs” over her antique furniture and too many “thank yous” for either one of them to be actual journalists, Alaina asked them to have a seat at her table.

The young man ran his hand over the top of her table. “This isn’t wood. What is this?”

“Formica. It’s older than you both; make a note to ask Google later.”

“Okay, sure.”

Alaina pointed to the teapot on her stove, and it whistled as if on cue. May I offer you some tea?”

The young man smiled and nodded. “Sure. Thank you.”

The woman declined politely. “None for me, thanks.”

Alaina smiled at her. “You want some.”

“Now that you mention it, I am thirsty.”

She brought them each a cup and sat down. “Now, what brings you here from the, uh, ‘paper’?” She tried to hide her smirk and failed miserably.

“We’re investigating the old legends about the, um, demon.”

“Oh, that old story? Where did you hear it?”

“We stopped at the Kingston Café. The owner and some other guy told us about it. We, y’know, investigate paranormal cases for the paper, so we thought this might be a good story.”

“It’s wild.” The young man took a sip of his tea and smiled. “I think the other guy was the mayor? You don’t normally hear politicians telling ghost stories. But he said the whole town talks about it. He chewed his lip. “I don’t mean to offend, but they say it lives here.”

She laughed. “I’m sure they do. Tell me your names.”

“I’m Colby.”

“I’m Courtney.”

And we’re the onion twins, she thought, and almost laughed. She knew she was the only one old enough to remember the commercial … what was it for? Salad dressing?

She jolted herself from her thoughts and sipped her tea. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Alaina. But you know that, don’t you?”

“Um, yes ma’am.” Colby said, and pretended to take notes on his phone. “Ms. Alaina, could you tell us why the town thinks this demon even exists, much less lives here?”

“Of course I can.” She leaned back and motioned for them to set their phones up to record. “Take good notes, kids. I’m only going to tell this once.”

**

I was young. Somewhere between four and seven. Oh, don’t look at me like that; when you get to be my age, time blurs together.

My mother and the man she married took me to a little church just outside of town. Dripping Springs, it was called. Why, I have no idea. It wasn’t like any church I’d attended before; loud music, dancing, and very, very loud preaching.

The preacher … he was an odd man. Overly dramatic and intense. As young as I was, I remember being creeped out by him. During one service, I remember having a nosebleed. I used to have bad ones that were hard to get stopped. Instead of taking me home, we stayed through the service so he and several others could pray for me. Mom never did get all the blood off my dress

Some of the followers came to our house with trash bags one evening and threw away a lot of my mother’s knick-knacks. They even pulled pictures down off the walls and threw them away. Claimed all of it was demonic and this needed to happen to cleanse the house and “save our souls.” Then they and my mother sat in a circle on the living room floor and prayed for her salvation. I don’t get it, not at all, but it’s not for me to judge. I read that whole “judge not” thing in a book somewhere…

**

Colby chuckled. “The Bible, right?”

“Yes, Captain Obvious, it was the Bible. May I continue?”

Courtney elbowed him. “Shut up, Colby!”

**

Where was I? Oh! The night this whole thing started. It was regular church – I mean, as regular as that wild bunch could be and the preacher was raining down fire and brimstone on all of us. That was all he ever concentrated on. Not how to survive day-to-day living, not how to love one another – just how shitty it would be for you if you didn’t obey him. Yeah, I said him with a little “h,” not a capital one. I think he only waved a Bible during services because people thought it was a necessary prop. Hell, fire, and damnation filled our Sunday nights, and my mother ate it up. We were there every time the doors were open. Sunday twice, Wednesday night, and every single night of a revival.

The only thing I really understood was she forced me to wear a dress and I hated it. She said it was in the Bible, but even after I read it cover-to-cover, I couldn’t find it. But you kids aren’t in the mood to hear that little argument. I’ll save it for later.

**

“You said the whole demon story started that night?”

“Why, yes I did, Courtney. Thank you for bringing me back in line.”

**

Okay, so, hell, fire, damnation, blah, blah, worldwithoutend, amen. Anyway, that night, this woman no one knew jumped up and yelled at the preacher. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but a bunch of big guys grabbed her arms and kept her from running off. The preacher came down and started shouting, “Demon!” and, “I cast you out in the name of Jesus!” and a whole lot of other stuff I can’t remember. I know I was scared and wanted to go home, but my mother and that man she married were having none of it. They would stay and pray until they were told to go home.

**

“What did the woman do?” Colby asked. “I mean, she was just mad or something, right?”

“Why would you be here if she was just mad or something?”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Colby, shut up!”

Alaina motioned for them to keep recording.

**

The woman fought like – well? – fought like a demon. She spat at the preacher and the other men. She growled, she snarled, she roared. She even tried to bite one of the men holding her. They kept praying. Finally, and this is gross – she puked. Everywhere. All over her. All over them. All over the pew in front of her. You know, like the kid in the Exorcist movie?

Now, don’t stop me, let me finish. After she quit yarking up her guts, she started to cry. That’s when everyone cheered and praised the Lord and thanked Him for her deliverance. The ladies helped her clean up and everybody finally went home. If it wasn’t for the stain on the pew they couldn’t completely clean, it was like it’d never happened.

**

Alaina paused. She did it primarily for dramatic effect, but also to let them catch on to what she hadn’t told them.

Courtney hugged herself and shivered. “So, was it … I mean, what happened after that? You still haven’t said why the town says the demon lives here.”

Alaina poured them both some more tea, glad they hadn’t noticed their phones had died. “Let’s see how I can best explain this. The preacher? The congregation? They didn’t think it through. Ask anyone – when you cast something out, it’s got to have somewhere to go, right? Well, when they did their little prayer thingy, no one thought to open the door. No one even cracked a window. So the demon flies out in a river of barf with nowhere to run … and it had a whole church full of bodies to take over. Any red-blooded demon isn’t going to choose an addled old blue-haired Bible thumper, no matter how funny it would be.

Colby rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Oh man, sorry. So they think the demon chose you?”

She laughed. “Colby, you’re smarter than I thought.”

He kept talking as if he didn’t catch the insult. “But you were so young. Why did they think that?”

“Because people died around me. A lot.”

“Really?”

Alaina smiled as warmly as her growing irritation would allow. “Yes, really. People would walk past me on the street and right out in front of a bus. Schoolyard bullies would be found hanging from a rung on the slide ladder. At first, people thought it was an accident, but when Lady Barfsalot – you know, the one from the church – turned up dead after I said hello to her, they centered on me.”

“Why?” Courtney nudged her companion. “Quit yawning!”

Colby shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

Alaina smiled. “I was the youngest in the church. The most innocent, according to them. The easiest one for the demon to take over.”

“How old were you when they started that shit, um, I mean stuff?”

“Sixteen. Budding womanhood, noticing boys, and boom, now I’m a demon spawn. Puberty isn’t such a bitch when you see what I went through.”

“What did you do? How many people died?”

“Let me answer you backward. Sixty-six people died, all tied to me in one way or another. They wanted to burn me at the stake, but the town council wouldn’t go for it. So I moved out here.”

“Did they try to pray over you?” Courtney asked.

“Oh yes. Several times. But they finally gave up after the third try. I guess when you’ve got a demon inside you for almost a decade, he’s pretty much homesteaded.”

That’s so awful! Do you ever go back into town?”

“Oh, absolutely not. Thanks to modern technology, I don’t have to go.

“What year did you move out here? You know, for our article.”

“1962.”

Courtney stared at her. “But … it’s 2020.”

Alaina set her cup down on the table. This was her favorite part. “Yes, I know.”

“How … how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Alaina could see the wheels turning in Courtney’s mind. She looked to her companion, but Colby’s eyes were closed, his head resting on his chest. He was sound asleep.

“That’s not possible. Colby? Colby, wake up!”

Colby didn’t move. Alaina laughed when Courtney tried to stand and couldn’t make her legs move.

“What did you do to me?”

Alaina ignored her. She went to the kitchen counter and picked up her favorite knife.

“Twenty-seven seemed like a good time to stop aging. Still young enough to have fun, but old enough not to get caught. The town knew me, though. Knew me for what I was.” She wiped the knife clean. “Knew us for what we were.”

“Please let me go!”

“Let you go? No thought for the boyfriend?” Alaina snorted. “So self-absorbed! And by the way? You’re not from the paper. How much money did they offer you to come out here?

“Okay, enough, we’re sorry, you’re right, We’re not from the paper. A thousand bucks. We were going to split it. We thought it was bullshit so we said okay!” Courtney tried to reach for Colby and couldn’t. “Please, just let us go!”

​Alaina rolled her eyes. “A thousand bucks, and you didn’t think there might be something wrong? No, I’m afraid we can’t let you go.” She tilted Colby’s head back, exposing his throat. “You’re part of the deal.”

Tears spilled from Courtney’s unblinking eyes. “D…deal?”

“Uh-huh. The town sends inquiring minds like yours, and we don’t hunt them. I would usually hunt the both of you, just for fun, but it’s late, and I smell rain coming. I’ll just dine inside tonight.” She used the knife to nick the artery in Colby’s neck just enough to not make a mess of her floor. She ran her finger along the blood and licked it clean.

“It’s been awhile, so I’m glad they sent two.”

Alaina smiled at the terrified woman, and spoke in two voices.

“We’re soooooo hunnnnngry

Courtney screamed. Colby bled. Night fell.

**

“Jeb? How long’s it been?”

The old man, the town’s mayor for the last fifty years, shrugged his withered shoulders. “Since the last one? I dunno, Tom. About a month, maybe less?”

“Yeah? Well, what do you think about that one there?” Tom pointed to a young man sitting alone in the corner booth. His attention was completely taken by his phone. “He looks like he’s going all sorts of nowhere.”

Jeb eyed the newcomer thoughtfully, wondering where he was headed, and if anyone was waiting on him. “Hmmm. Find out if anyone knows he’s here. If not, tell him the story. Looks like he might need money – thousand bucks if he’ll go out there.”

“Sure thing, Jeb.” Tom cut a piece of Mabelle’s cherry pie and walked over to make a new acquaintance.

Jeb sighed. It had to be done, that was the deal. One day, he knew he’d get up the nerve to go out there to her cabin and offer himself to the demon. He was eighty-five now, and even though he still felt pretty spry, he knew his time was drawing short.

Jeb watched Tom draw the young man into conversation and wondered about the two they’d chosen to send into the forest last month. It hurt his heart to do it, but a deal was a deal, after all.

“Send them to me and I won’t hunt all of you.”

Someday, he’d go out to the cabin. Someday, he’d be the one she would feed on. Maybe it would make up for ignoring the preacher who’d asked him to open the window that night. Maybe it would make up for the hundreds who’d been sent to die.

“I wish your momma would have let me kill you, child.” Jeb muttered under his breath. But she wouldn’t, and now all he could wonder was – who would feed his step-daughter after he was gone?

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SCREEN TEST FINAL VERSION for really real this time http://leighgrissom.com/2019/08/screen-test-final-version-for-really-real-this-time/ http://leighgrissom.com/2019/08/screen-test-final-version-for-really-real-this-time/#respond Wed, 14 Aug 2019 03:10:29 +0000 http://leighgrissom.com/?p=2751

SCREEN TEST

© 2019 Leigh Grissom

“Are we ready, Stefin?”

“Yessir.” The production assistant made a final adjustment on one of the studio lights and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Send him in.”

“Right away.”

Stefin ran for the door and called for the first audition of the day.

“Cutter? Brian Cutter?”

A young man, dark hair, dark eyes, an “old Hollywood” cut to his jaw, with a ready smile and a deep, pleasing voice, walked in.

“Hello!” the Director called.

The actor held out his hand. “I’m Brian Cutter.”

The Director shook his hand and eyed him with appreciation. Perfect, from the well-tailored suit to the shine of his shoes. Even his name would look good in lights. He motioned for Brian to have a seat on the stool across from the camera. He waited for his assistant to line up the shot, and then smiled warmly.

“Tell us your name for the camera, son.”

That smile again, classy, but with a touch of mischief. “Brian Cutter, sir. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“Is this your first time reading for an indie film?”

Brian looked a little sheepish and gave the Director a tentative grin. “It shows?

“It shows you’re ready to take the next leap in your career. You should be proud of that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The Director looked him over, picturing him on a movie poster. “You’ve got a classic look, Brian. In the day, you could have stolen roles from Gable.”

Brian’s eyes went wide. “You think so? Thank you. That means a lot.

Stefin signaled he was ready to begin recording.

The Director asked Brian, “What part will you be reading?

“I was hoping for the part of James Killian?”

The Director shrugged uncertainly. “You can, but I think you’d be better for the part of the Senator.” He waved a reassuring hand when he saw Brian’s worried look. “It’s all right, Brian. You read Killian’s lines for the test, and then we might try some of the Senator’s at the end. Your energy is much too good to be wasted on a part that would force you to hide in a fat suit.”

“Sounds great! I’m ready when you are.”

Stefin brought out the slate. “Screen test. Cutter, Brian. Part of James Killian.” The clack echoed around them. He hustled back to the camera and signaled he was ready.

“I’ve never seen a slate at an audition.” Brian said.

I’m an old man, Brian. It helps me keep track of all of you.” The Director held up a hand and signaled for quiet. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. First, why don’t you give us an official introduction? This will all be edited into your reel.

The actor straightened his collar and smiled at the camera lens. “Hi! I’m Brian Cutter. I’m originally from Washington, DC.”

“How old are you, Brian?”

“Twenty-nine plus shipping and handling.”

The Director laughed out loud. “I may have to write that into a script! Now, tell us why you were drawn to the acting world.”

Brian thoughtfully rubbed the scar on his chin. “I’ve seen … a lot in my life. Acting provides an escape for me. If I play my role to the fullest, I might help someone else escape, too.”

“Excellent, Mr. Cutter. I can tell you have a heart for the silver screen.” The Director sat down in his chair and lit a cigarette. “The part you’re reading for is a difficult one. His time in this movie is limited, but he runs an intense gamut of emotions. He’s an overpaid, over-fed corporate jackass who believes he’s above the law until it all crashes down around him. He’s very intense, and steals every scene he’s involved in, even if it’s just on the phone. If you end up in that fat suit, it’ll be tough to use body language or expression to get your point across, so bring your voice to the forefront. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Perfect. We’ll begin with Killian’s first meeting with Isaiah Blake. Let’s hear your interpretation.”

Brian cleared his throat and leaned back, folding his arms out in front of him as if over a large belly. He glared at the camera with cool disdain. His voice was hoarse, and he sounded slightly out of breath.

“This is all the information on the acquisition I want you to make. Double your fee; paid up front.” Brian scratched his chin nervously. “This is the most important job you’ll do for me, Isaiah. You were chosen for that reason.” He held up a hand. “No questions, Blake. Bring it to me before it remembers what it is.”

The Director smiled. “Impressive! That was very sinister, Brian! Show me the phone call between Killian and Isaiah Blake.”

Brian picked up an invisible phone. “He’s one who would prefer a landline over a cell phone. He’s one of a handful who still has one.”

The Director raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, you have done your homework. That’s exactly what the writer intended to convey. Show us.”

Brian set his jaw and snarled into the invisible receiver. “Blake! Status reports are submitted online and all calls…” He stopped, and his laughter held a tinge of fear. “Oh, my young friend, I’m afraid that isn’t possible. You are the only Tracker for this job. And let’s just say that failing this mission will cut both our careers short.” He paused, and then added, “You’re in this until this end, Blake. It’s the only way we’ll both get out alive. Please trust me on this and bring that little girl in.” He mimicked hanging up the phone.

“Wonderful! Now, go forward to the scene where Mr. Killian makes his exit.”

Brian took a few deep breaths. When he looked up, fear clouded his features. “Senator … what is this? What’s going on?” He paused, and mimicked reaching for a gun against his will. “Please, don’t do this…” He checked the invisible weapon, and mimed pointing it under his chin.

The Director gave him a standing ovation. “Bravo! Such power! Mr. Cutter, if you’re this good as Killian, you’ll be perfect for the Senator. I personally would rather see those good looks on camera. You’ll have a harem of female fans who love the villain.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brian noticed the production assistant rolling out a swath of red carpet about one hundred feet in length. “What is this?”

The Director indicated the carpet. “This is the second part of your screen test. This part moves quickly, and I want it all, understand? Whatever emotion I ask for, whatever I need you to say or do – do it. Don’t over-think it; hell, don’t think at all. Live the part of the most beloved actor in the world. Got it?”

“Got it!” Brian sat on the edge of the stool, poised and ready.

The Director walked back to his chair and sat down heavily. “This is where you become a star, Brian Cutter – now let me see your acceptance speech for the Oscars!”

Brian stood up, his expression a testament to stunned elation. “Oh, my God … I can’t believe this! I want to thank the Academy, my wife, my kids, my co-stars – I … I couldn’t have done this without you!”

“Beautiful! Do it again for the Golden Globes!”

Brian obeyed, altering his acceptance speech slightly to fit the award.

The Director nodded, pleased. “I can see this happening for you, Brian. And you’ll look great in Armani; we should ask about a spokesperson contract. Now, laugh for me.”

Brian ran through several rounds of laughter, from a cynical chuckle to a full-on belly-laugh, even to a “drunk giggle.”

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Amazing, Mr. Cutter! Let me see annoyed anger – you were just accused of making a sex tape with a well-known porn star –”

“Which one?”

“An ugly one!”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, turn the camera off – I don’t even know her! She’s lying; that tape is a fake!” He raised a hand as if to block someone from taking his photo.

“Perfect! You are attending a movie premiere, Mr. Cutter; it’s time to give us your red-carpet walk.  Be sure and pause to speak with media personalities of your choice.”

“Huh? Okay, sure.” Brian walked back and forth several times, pausing to answer a reporter’s question, side-eyeing and pointedly ignoring another.

You are perfect, my boy! Walk and talk with a reporter who wants to know about your next feature.”

Brian obeyed, moving easily, talking with his hands, telling the invisible reporter all about a movie that didn’t exist yet.

“He’s good.” Stefin whispered.

“You are so right.” He called out to the actor, “All right, you can have a seat.”

Brian sat back down on the stool. He looked a little pale. “How am I doing?”

“You are poised to become the next superstar. I need one more – loss. Painful, soul-wrenching loss. A loved one, a beloved pet, your very way of life – you’ve lost it all. Let me see.”

Brian’s dark eyes watered almost instantly, and tears slipped down his cheeks. He wept quietly, staring off into nothing.

“Ohhhhhh … the strong, silent hero in pain … you are magnificent! Look at the camera, Mr. Cutter. Give us your best Hollywood head shot.”

Brian looked back at the camera. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he shivered. “Hey, uh, I don’t feel well…”

“It’s all right, son, just a few moments more. You will reign in the cinema for years to come, Brian Cutter. You’ve got the part. You will dominate the silver screen for years.”

Stefin applauded. “Congratulations, Mr. Cutter!”

Brian blinked, confusion clouding his features. “I … what’s going on?”

“Sit up straight, my boy. Look at the camera.”

“I can’t … help…”

“It’s all right, Brian. Just be still. Welcome to Hollywood. May your box office returns be record-breaking.” He turned to his assistant. “Did we get it all?”

“Yes, sir, it’s all here.”

“Thank you. How close are we to filming the final zombie fight in Attack of the Brain Eaters?”

“It begins today, sir. Are we adding Mr. Cutter to the credits?”

The Director looked lovingly at the pale ghost still sitting on the stool, his eyes vacant, soulless. “Yes. Be sure to say, ‘Introducing Brian Cutter’. We’ll work him in throughout the movie, then film his death so memorably that his career will last longer than he did.”

Stefin turned up the playback on the video he’d recorded. Cutter’s terrified pleas to be set free echoed through the room.

“Do they always scream like that when you bleed them?”

The Director nodded. “For a while. Once the body is dead, they realize there’s nowhere left to go, so I’m able to mold them into whatever role I need them to play.”

The assistant handed over the flash drive containing the fire and emotion that was Brian Cutter. “How many souls do you have?”

The Director threw his head back and laughed. “Thousands, my boy. Thousands.” He slipped the flash drive into his shirt pocket and patted it thoughtfully. “Modern technology has made my job so much easier. All right, Stefin – remove Mr. Cutter and send in the next audition. Make it a woman this time. He needs a love interest both on- and off-camera.”

“Sir, didn’t he say he has a wife and kids?”

“Get on his IMDB and verify that. If he does, call our lawyer and set up that sex tape. He’ll be divorced and looking for love in a matter of months.”

“Right away, sir.” Stefin ran to the door and pointed. “Ma’am? You’re next.”

A brunette, her blue eyes dancing with delight after being chosen, walked to the door.

“What’s your name?” Stefin asked.

“Jenna. Jenna Nelson.”

“Let me introduce you to our Director, Ms. Nelson.” He offered his arm.

“Thank you!” She took his arm, blushing so beautifully the camera turned itself on.

The Director opened his arms in welcome. “You are quite lovely, Ms. Nelson. We’ll begin our screen test in just a moment. Will you be reading for the lead?”

“Yes, sir. I think I can bring her to life, and I’m willing to color my hair.”

“Wonderful! I think you’ll do just … what is it, Ms. Nelson?”

She pointed to the production assistant, leading a very pale, almost catatonic man toward the opposite door.

“Um … is he … okay?”

The Director lightly patted her arm. “He’s fine. This was his first reading for an indie film. I don’t think he was expecting to get the part. Now, why don’t you have a seat?”

*+*

This isn’t happening … what the hell is going on?

Brian knew his throat should be raw from shouting, but he felt nothing at all. The darkness around him was impenetrable; he was afraid to move around for fear of running into something, or off something into … more darkness.

“Where am I?”

Soft lights flickered at the edges of his vision. He looked around, not knowing what to expect, and was shocked to see they were illuminating a stone path, like –

A park?

He stumbled down the path and fell face-first. It took him a few seconds to realize the pain he expected from hitting his face on the ground never came. He scratched at the stone underneath him.

He couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure what wasn’t there; the stone, or his fingers.

“What the hell is this?” Moving carefully, he drew himself upright, then understood why he fell. He had no feeling in his feet, either.

“What did you do to me?” he cried out, but the night only echoed his question back to him.

Focusing on the ground, he walked slowly, only looking up when he would pause to lower his risk of falling again. He could barely make out gnarled trees hidden in fog on either side of the path. There was no sound to indicate anything (or anyone) else was there with him.

Brian stumbled, almost falling again, and stopped, staring at the ground until he regained what balance he had left. Without thinking, he placed his hand on his chest.

No heartbeat.

“Am I dead?” he shouted, but there was no answer. He walked for what he guessed was almost a quarter of a mile before he saw the shadow of a park bench on the side of the path.

Brian stunned himself by laughing. “What, no pigeons to feed?” He looked around again, not wanting to stray from the stone underneath him, but desperate to figure out where he was, why he couldn’t feel any sensation, and why the hell he wasn’t breathing.

What is this place?

Tired, alone, afraid … he sat on the park bench in the middle of Otherwhere, terrified to keep calling out, but too angry to wait in silence.

“Is anyone here? Hello?”

Brian listened. He didn’t hear the sound approaching, but he sensed it somehow. Footsteps? He lowered his head and clasped his hands between his knees. Whatever was coming, he hoped it had answers.

“Hello, handsome. I guess you’re new here.”

Brian looked up, startled, and words left him completely. It can’t be…

Blonde, beautiful, her smile forever frozen in time. The same white dress that billowed so perfectly over the sidewalk grate, catapulting her to worldwide stardom. She looked at him with a deep compassion that brought tears to his eyes.

At least I can still cry, he thought crazily. “I … yes, I’m new. What is this place?”

She laughed. It was a magnificent sound. “You thought of it as Otherwhere. I like that. You’re in Otherwhere, Brian.”

“You know me?”

“Well, you know me.”

He laughed out loud. “Everyone on earth knows you! But…”

She held up a slender, delicate hand. “I know. Come on, the others will be along soon and we need to go with them.”

“Others?”

“Uh-huh. There are thousands of us here. I want to show you how to walk around here without falling before they arrive.”

“Okay.”

She took his hands and guided him to his feet. “Your muscle memory isn’t gone, Brian. Just your body. Let your soul do what it’s supposed to do. Don’t think about it.”

It took him a few minutes to realize he was walking with her, no longer worried about watching his feet.

“I don’t understand.” He turned to look at her, still unable to fully grasp he was talking to a screen legend. “Am I dead?”

She laughed again, a musical sound that eased his fear. “Not as long as you’re still selling tickets. Or merchandise. Or both.”

“Oh, my God.” Brian stared at her in wonder. “What he did to me? Did he do that to you?”

She nodded. “About a year before my body died.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right.” She rose to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He was genuinely pleased to feel the touch of her lips. “My death was too public, so I’m only still here because of merchandise sales. I offered to welcome the new people since my acting days are long gone. It helps the others who can still work.”

He didn’t want to ask it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“What happens if your merchandise stops selling?”

Her smile was wistful, and very, very sad.

“He’ll burn the film.”

Brian didn’t know what to say. He drew her into his arms and held her, this goddess who’d last graced Hollywood in 1961, wishing he could find a way to get them both out of this Otherwhere. Her body was long dead, and his didn’t have long –

She pulled away and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Why?”

A woman’s terrified screams echoed in the darkness.

“He’s done it again.” She kissed his cheek one more time, and vanished.

“Wait!”

But she didn’t. Brian was alone again.

Waiting.

For the others.

ATTACK OF THE BRAIN EATERS A SURPRISE ZOMBIE THRILL-RIDE

by Kingston Nero, Movie Geek

Yes, yes, I know. Most moviegoers have long-since gotten sick to un-death of the Zombie movie. (Don’t scoff at the pun; you bought the newspaper.)

I will be the first to admit I had low expectations. The last thing I wanted to waste my time watching was another cookie-cutter zombie movie or a cinematic rip-off of “The Walking Dead.” I mean, I saw that sparkling vampire flick after so many people told me it was the latest and greatest in vampire/werewolf sagas.

To the people who convinced me that was true – I hate you all.

Back to the task at hand. I was wrong, friends and neighbors. The zombie movie with the idiot title (don’t look at me like that, you know it’s stupid) is a delightful thrill-ride from beginning to end. The dialogue is tight and sharp, and the actors actually talk instead of reading from badly-printed cue cards.

I want more than anything to tell you the huge twist that even your resident movie geek didn’t see coming, but I’m gluten- and spoiler-free. Sorry.

Instead, let’s hit the high points:

Set design and location. I don’t know who the crew paid off to turn the river red, but well done.
The screenplay. “Twilight” hacks, take note. Scripts like this are why you don’t work anymore.
Brian Cutter. You don’t know who he is? That’s okay. You will. This movie geek has never witnessed a breakout performance like this. The depth of his fear, his pain, his agony – his screams to be set free are worthy of a Golden Globe alone. Even though his part was a small one, he owned every scene right up to the last. I can’t wait to see what character he’ll bring to life next. Mr. Cutter is the breakout star the established Hollywood studs need to worry about. You heard it here first!

Go see “Attack of the Brain Eaters,” kids. I give it five shiny gold stars for Brian Cutter alone. You online ticket buyers can use CUTTER4EVR to receive a coupon for a free large popcorn at any AMC theater! Tell them the Geek sent you!

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