Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-31062126-20170120162704

Back before I could drive, around 1994 at the age of 15, I used to spend a great deal of time at my grandma’s house. I lived far out in the country which meant we had no cable TV, nowhere fun to go hang out, and certainly no friends within walking distance. In fact, other than my grandma’s, there were no other houses around us for miles.

We had an old UHF/VHF antenna with broken prongs that could barely get 3 channels on a good day. On top of that, my dad controlled what was watched because he only liked old TV shows like “Gunsmoke” and “In The Heat of the Night.” This meant if I wanted to watch anything, I had to walk about a mile down the road to my grandma’s house. I didn't mind though because the more time I could spend at grandma’s, the less time I was cutting wood, chasing cattle or putting up fences on our farm.

Grannie was awesome. She would always feed me and let me watch anything I wanted. She only had an antenna as well, but since she was further down the road, she got way better reception for some reason.

I would often spend the night and sleep in the guest room when I was really young, but as I reached the age of 14-15, dad would always have work for me the next morning. So, I would often walk down to her house and watch TV until it was dark outside or whatever I was watching went off. Then, I would walk up the hill from my grandma’s house, past some fields, and an old red barn that hadn't been used in ages, all the way to my house.

I guess some kids would be too freaked out to walk a mile home out in the country after dark, but it didn't faze me in the least. I've always been a pretty big guy. But I'm fast for my size. At 15, I was 220lbs and could run the 40 in five seconds flat. I played football all through school, and between all the work I had to do on the farm and the workouts we had to do for football, I wasn't in bad shape.

Now, this was before every kid in existence had a cell phone. So, before leaving grannie’s I would call my house and let my dad or stepmom know that I was headed home so no one freaked out when I popped through the door. Remember, this is out in the boonies and my father was packing enough firepower in our home to take out an army should the need arise.

Dad was always kind of a hard ass. But as he got more and more gray hair, he started to mellow out a bit. Hell, you might even swear he developed a partial sense of humor if you didn't know any better. He knew I didn't scare easily because I absolutely loved horror films as a kid. And still do to this day. So, he made it his unofficial life's work to scare the crap out of me whenever possible.

This often consisted of sneaking into my room at night while I was sleeping, sliding under the bed, and grabbing at me in the dark or making strange noises hoping I would wake up freaked out. His attempts were met with me usually waking up as he tried to sneak into the room, but feigning continued sleep just to mess with him. Sometimes I could even turn the tables and grab at him unexpectedly, but even that didn't quell his efforts.

One Friday evening in December I had gotten off the school bus at grannie’s and went straight to her house since football season was over for the year. She made me dinner, and I watched TGIF shows as usual. Since the next day was Saturday, I knew dad would have a day full of work for me to do. He was getting up in years and was slowing down a lot, which left me having to pick up the slack.

As usual, before heading home I called to let the parental units know I was coming. Dad answered.... “Bill’s Pool Hall…. You Rack ‘Em, We’ll Crack ‘Em.” He had obviously recognized grannie’s number via the Caller ID.

“You're hilarious!” I said, sarcastically. I told him I was heading home. I asked him to unlock the door and turn the porch light on so I could avoid killing myself on the front steps in the dark.

“It's nearly 11PM, why don't you just stay the night at your grandma’s instead of walking all the way home in the freezing cold? Besides, it's pitch black out there and foggy as hell.” He replied.

I briefly considered his proposal, but after a minute or so decided against staying. “If I stay the night, then you will be calling at sun up for me to come home anyway. If I just come on home now, it will be easier on me tomorrow.” I maintained.

“Yeah, you're probably right; we have a lot to get done tomorrow.” He said wearily. “Be careful and watch out for bears, masked killers with chainsaws, and little fat girls!” He added.

“Again, dad. You're hilarious!” I retorted.

I hung up the phone and helped my grandma with a few quick chores included taking out her trash and feeding her crazy amount of cats she kept that hung around outside her house. I gave her a hug and a kiss goodbye. I then put on my Letterman’s jacket and slipped out the back door to start my walk home. Granny had a security light on her electric pole which provided some light for the beginning of my trek, but it wasn't long before I was quickly surrounded by nothing but darkness and dense fog. The moon was fairly bright, but the fog was so thick it was not really helping light my path. As I said before, most 15-year-olds might have been freaked out, but I was just cold and slightly annoyed that I couldn't see more than 10 feet in front of me.

My grandma’s driveway was about a quarter mile long. Then you reached the main road. From there it was a winding stretch all uphill past the cornfields, which by now were nothing but harvested stalks mostly laid over. Onward past the old red barn, then about another half mile to my driveway. I had walked this path so many times it was almost second nature. And even though I could barely see, I could tell you where every pothole in the road was.

I was about 100 feet from the old red barn when the fog started clearing. I could see further now. Even though it was very dark, my eyes had adjusted. In the field to the left of the barn I heard corn stalks suddenly break. So, I stopped to look, hoping to see a doe or even a nice buck scavenging for leftover corn that didn't get harvested. I couldn't see anything, and heard nothing else. I shrugged it off and kept walking.

About 15 feet further down the road the stalks cracked again. This time it sounded a lot closer. I thought to myself “If this were a horror film, the smart thing to do would be to haul ass home, and don't look back.” But that's just my twisted sense of humor, and I really wanted to see if this was a nice big buck in that field. After all, many 10 point plus bucks have been spotted in the fields around our farm, and my uncles loved to hunt.

I stepped off the road into the field looking all around. I still couldn't see much, but the crackling seemed to move with me. I reached an area of the field where the corn had not been harvested. It was dead and withered, but the stalks were still tall and untouched. I didn't think that much of it, as it’s pretty common for part of a crop to get “sun parched” and die before it can be harvested. I slowly moved through the abandoned stalks trying to be quiet so I don't scare off this deer I was trying to find.

It wasn't long before I realized I was in the middle of this field, I hadn't seen any deer, and I was freezing. I decided to give up the search and get on home. I made my way back through the corn stalks and just as I got back to the road, I saw headlights coming up the road behind me. I could hear it was an old truck, and I knew immediately who it was.

We had an old man named Charles who used to buy a pint of whiskey from an old country store several miles from where he lived. He would then drive the back roads down in the boonies at night drinking it. How he never got a DUI, killed himself or someone else is beyond me.

I stepped back off the road because for one thing I didn't want to get splattered by an old drunk in a clunky pickup. And for another, I wanted to get home, and if he saw me he would pull over and want to talk half the night. As he passed by me, I kneeled down in the field. I watched as he got further and further away.

Just as his tail lights were about to fade out of sight I stood up just in time to see what looked like a person cross the road about 60 feet in front of me. I could only catch a glimpse because Charles’ tail lights were behind the figure. I stopped and collected myself for a brief second. It couldn't have been a deer because it was upright and bipedal. I know I didn't imagine it. So, what or who the hell was it?

“Okay, damage control.” I thought to myself. “Don't freak out. It's probably someone hunting illegally or possibly scouting the area for bow season.” No one lived remotely near us, and there were no vehicles or ATVs in sight. So, who the hell is up there?

I decided to slowly make my way onto the road and keep heading toward home. I stepped lightly, stopping every so often to listen. I had hoped to hear a truck, car or ATV fire up and leave one of the fields or pull away from the other side of the old barn. But that didn't happen. As I mentioned, I don't get scared easily. But out in the country, people are unpredictable. If you stumble upon someone's hidden “herb garden” or “white lightning shack” you might not live to regret it. I didn't know of anything like that around here, but discretion is the better part of valor.

I was almost up to the barn now. I hadn't heard or seen anything else. I'm not sure if that's good or bad at this point. The fog was all but gone by now, and the moonlight was providing a better view of the road. I kept moving slowly until I was right beside the barn. I looked all around, and saw nothing. I was only a half mile from my driveway so I decided to sprint the last leg of the way home.

I took off running, and accelerated quickly. Just as I reached top speed, the dark figure stepped out of the woods onto the road not more than 40 feet in front of me. It was so dark, but I could just make out that it/he/she was holding something shiny, and sort of big. I stopped cold, almost falling as I slid on the old tar and chip back road. I yelled out. “Hey! Who are you, and what are you doing out here?” Silence….. Nothing but silence….. “THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY!” I yelled. I was slightly apprehensive and a little annoyed.

The figure said nothing, but slowly started walking toward me. At this point I started back peddling. The figure sped up, and I could now see it was a stocky figure. It looked like a man, and he was definitely carrying something large and shiny. I was still moving backwards when I heard it. **crank** **crank** **BRATTLE BRATTLE BRATTLE** My heart jumped from my chest as I realized that shiny thing I could barely see… was a chainsaw!

He revved up the engine, but I had already turned to run. I had to think fast. Do I try to make it back to granny’s or head for the barn and hope I can outrun him and get home to where the guns are? I thought fast and realized that granny had iron security doors, and there was no way I could get in. And beating on the door hoping she gets out of bed to let me in before whoever this is fillets me is not going to work.

I turned toward the barn and took off at a full sprint. I ran through the field behind, and finally to the backside of the barn. I could still hear the chainsaw, and could tell I had put some distance between it and me. I took a quick breath and listened to determine in which direction the sound was heading. As I was catching my breath I realized that chainsaw sounded really familiar. I have cut down too many trees for winter wood to not know the sound of dad’s old green Poulan chainsaw. It's super old and during idle it will occasionally double sputter. Almost like it's sucking in too much air.

That's when I realized. “Dad you S.O.B.” I thought, extremely relieved. He literally told me earlier on the phone to “watch out for masked killers with chainsaws.” This is another feeble attempt to scare me. That's why he walked towards me instead of running at me. Because his back isn't great, and he can't really run anymore. He wouldn't answer me when I yelled at him because I would have recognized his voice.

He has no idea that I know it's him. I would know the sound of that janky old saw anywhere. On top of that, he all but told me he was going to pull this crap on the phone earlier. Still, I'll give him an A for effort. He had to get the saw and coveralls from the garage, gas and suit up, then walk a half mile down here in the cold. I'm going to throw him a bone.

I had completely composed myself at this point, and the sound of the saw was getting closer. I ran around to the front of the barn and ducked inside. There wasn't much in there except some old tobacco sticks, abandoned hay bales, and parts of an old plow. I grabbed one of the plow blades and took the rickety stairs up to the barn loft and waited. After a few moments dad entered the barn. The saw choked out as it often did, and I took the opportunity to “drop” the plow blade on the floor to alert dad to my whereabouts. As I dropped the blade I sort of whimpered, “please no.”

About that time, I heard the familiar crank, followed by the rattle of that old saw. I grinned as I thought about how much fun dad must be having thinking he's got me trapped and terrified. I could just imagine him thinking to himself.. “This’ll teach him not to act so big and bad.”


 * Creek** **Creek** **Creek**

The old rotted wood of the steps was quite audible, so much that I could hear him making his way up the steps to the loft even with the saw sputtering between revs.

The moonlight was pouring through the loft required lighting a wide area. I stood next to the loft window as dad creeped to the top of the stairs. I could now see him fairly well. He had his coveralls on, his winter ski mask, and sure enough he was carrying his old green chainsaw. My plan had been to climb out the loft window and slide down the tier pole outside, but dad surprised me.

Just as I went for the window, he came at me hard slashing the air tauntingly with the chainsaw. I backed away, and we sort of circled one another. I almost said something because his vision isn't great to begin with, he's wearing a mask, and he was about five inches from accidentally gutting me.

He moved closer, and I backed up to the edge of the loft. I was out of room and had nowhere to go so I figured enough was enough. I yelled “Okay, dad! Joke’s over... I know it's you.” I waited for him to kill the saw, take off the mask, and we'd have a good laugh. He swiped out at me again with the saw revving the engine higher, only missing my stomach by inches.

“Dang it dad. Stop! You win!” I wanted to swear at him, but I knew he would kick my ass later if I did. He swiped again, but this time I jumped from the loft onto the hay underneath. Screw it, I was livid! “Damn It dad, you just don't know when to quit! I said you win! I'm going home!”

I took off running out of the barn and out through the field at full speed. I heard the saw rev in the distance as dad came out of the barn. I remember thinking that dad had lost his freaking mind. It was a good prank at first, but this was dangerous. It's gone way too far.

I got to our driveway, and I could still hear that damn chainsaw. I had put some distance between us, but dad was still coming. He wasn't too far behind, which surprised me because he was going to wind up throwing out his back trying to run while carrying that chainsaw. As my foot hit the front porch steps I looked back to see dad standing at the far end of the drive near the road where I just came from. He was easily 150 feet away from me. He was just standing there waving at me slowly. The saw still idling. I went inside and locked the door. I figured he could stay out there in the cold for a while. All the lights were out, and my stepmom was already in bed I guess, so I took off my jacket and threw it on the couch. I went to get some water because I was out of breath from all that running.

After I settled for a minute I walked back to my parent's bedroom. I was going to wake up my stepmom and tell her what her insane husband just put me through before he had time to put everything away and come inside to proffer a defense.

My stepmom tends to sleep in a gown and is sometimes a hot sleeper. So, in an effort not to see anything that would scar me for life, I whispered through the slightly cracked door to wake her up before barging in and turning on the light.

Brenda….? Pssst... Hey Brenda……?

Brennnnnnnnnnnda……? Wake up...

Brenda…? Dad's being a jackass…

Wake up pls.

I swear she could sleep through the Zombie Apocalypse. I give up. I'm going to bed. I'll get back at dad tomorrow. I have a pack of Ex-Lax with his name on it. I was so tired, and I knew I had to get up early and work all day. I didn't even turn the light on. I slipped into bed, set my alarm for 6 AM, then drifted off to sleep.


 * BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**

“No no no no! It cannot be six already!” I mumbled while sitting up onto the edge of my bed. I was so tired. I threw my clothes on and headed to the kitchen. Brenda and dad would be up by now and there would be coffee. GLORIOUS COFFEE! I walked into the kitchen and nobody was even up yet, let alone coffee brewing. I started a pot percolating figuring that would raise them for sure. After drinking two cups I still hadn't heard a peep out of the parentals. I decided I was going to have to go wake them up or Brenda was going to be late for work.

I walked back to their room and hollered through the door.

“Guys… yell need to wake up!”

“Come on you guys, Brenda's gonna miss work!”

Not a peep… Okay screw it! I hit the door hard causing it to fly open and slam against the adjacent wall. I walked into the room a bit, but the Sun was just starting to rise so it was very dark. The whole room had a weird smell. Kind of an oily/metallic smell with a touch of mildew. I bet dad threw his dew-covered coveralls on the floor last night when he came in and they have started to mildew. “Gross” I thought.

I reached over and ran my hand up the wall to find the light switch. I flipped on the light, and instantly my heart leapt into my throat. I stumbled backward out of the room. My head started to spin, as did my insides. I threw my hand over my mouth to hold back the bile threatening to spew out.

I turned and stumbled down the hallway grabbing at the phone and dialed…..


 * BEEP BEEP BEEP**

“9 1 1, What's the nature of your emergency?”

I must have passed out before I could say anything to the operator. I briefly remember hearing police officers entering the house through the back door before passing out again.

“ATTENTION! This is the Wolf Creek police department. We are responding to a 911 call placed from this residence! If anyone is in here, please come out with your hands in the air!”

I came to at the hospital surrounded by police and medical personnel. As I opened my eyes and tried to sit up and a voice said “Take it easy son. You're in shock.”

“Where am I? What's going on?” I muttered in a panic.

“You're at the Regional Hospital, Son. You've been through a very traumatic experience, and you're still in shock.”

“Where are they? I want to see them!” I insisted!

“Son, that's not possible at the moment nor is it a good idea in your condition. Can you tell us what you remember about last night?”

I started at the beginning and told the officer everything I could remember from the time I left school yesterday evening until I woke up here in the hospital. They kept me in the hospital a few days for mental health evaluation. They sent a Psychologist to speak with me about what I saw that morning I called 911.

It's been 23 years since that day. I'm doing well these days and have come to terms with what I witnessed then. I can even talk about it now.

It seems that the night I called to ask my parents to turn on the porch light and unlock the door for me, they did just that. But someone had broken into our garage, and taken dad's coveralls, ski mask, and chainsaw. Just after the door was unlocked, my parents went to bed. This man walked right into their bedroom and used my father's old chainsaw to brutally murder both of my parents. The room was covered in blood and their pieces and parts. The strange smell I had noticed was a mixture of oil from the saw and blood that had soaked through the sheets and into the carpet which had started to mildew slightly. The sound my feet made on the carpet was a sickening squish.....squish. I still remember the feeling of my parent's blood between my toes, and the sight of thier heads spiked on the bed posts. Their tongues had been ripped out, and eyes were missing.

The police never found the man who killed my dad and stepmom. I lived with my grandma until I was 18. We sold the house and I moved all the way across the country to get away from the memories of that day. I am now 38 and have a beautiful wife. We are even expecting our first child soon(a girl). If she is anything like her mommy, she will be smart and beautiful.

I am a bit troubled though, because I've recently started having the nightmares again of that dark figure chasing me. They are becoming more intense and disturbing. I know they are just dreams, but they haunt me relentlessly. My wife suggested I talk to someone about it to try and get some closure. I promised her that I'd think about it.

I went out to get the mail today, and as I started back into the house I noticed an envelope taped to my door. I grabbed it and went inside the house. I sat down and began to open the mail. Finally, I came to the envelope that had been taped to the door. It had no address or name printed anywhere in sight. It only said "OPEN ME!"

Inside was a faded Polaroid photo dated December '94...

It was of me. When I was 15.. Lying in my bed…

A dirty old hand held dad's green chainsaw up to my throat as I slept. In the other hand sit the eyes of my mom and dad. A note had been placed near my face that said "Mommy and Daddy are watching."

At the bottom of the photo it said "flip me over."

I flipped the photo over and there was a message for me…..

It read…....

SEE You Soon! 