Chapter One
In The Aftermath
The police had been called, at exactly 9:24 pm, to the house 775 on a noise complaint. Apparently the Hendersons, an extremely old couple across the street, had heard strange shrieking and screeching noises. The old woman told the police that she believed the recluse family that lived there were devil worshipers and she could swear that they were sacrificing the area's stray cat population to the Dark Lord of the Underworld.
"I always thought that family was a tad strange. Never leave the house those people, 'cept for their boy. What was their boy's name, Mike?" The old lady's hair curlers bounced as she screamed at her couch potato husband reclining in a Lazy Boy.
"Wha-?"
"Those people 'cross the street, what was their boy's name?"
"Whose boy?"
"Those people that live across from us. Oh goodness, the-the Carsons, no, the Ca-Ca-Caseys, Ca-Casael . . . the Casils, Mike! The Casils across the street, what was their boy's name?"
"Tha Casils? Tommy, wasn't it?"
"No, you silly old coot, that's the Hamilton's kid. Think, old man, he had dark hair that boy, and was real skinny-like. He used to play with that scary Mexican kid that moved away last year, Pepito."
"Oh, you mean Todd."
X
More police were coming, lights flashing, ready and armed. A two person unit had arrived a quarter till to find the house locked up tight. After busting the door open they'd been driven back by the most horrible smell.
"What the fuck is that?" One police man had gagged. The other pressed his sleeve to his nose and pulled out his piece. The first followed his partner in.
"Clear."
"All clear in the back."
"Check this out." There were strange dark stains on the white tile of the kitchen floor. They didn't touch it to find out if it was or wasn't fresh blood.
One officer took to the staircase while the other covered him at ground level. As the first cop rounded the balcony the other followed until he noticed something he hadn't seen before. At first glance he took it for a storage closet but upon shining his light into the partially opened door he noticed another set of stairs.
Cop one discovered the source of the smell and immediately called for back up. He found Mrs. Casil dead, lashed out and covered in dried vomit on her bed.
Cop two discovered the source of the noise complaint and immediately called for his partner. He found Mr. Casil dead, his kneecaps busted and nailed to the floor; fingernails ripped off and with his face and throat sliced wide open. He was surrounded in his own blood with a small white bottle and the murder weapon near by.
"I found the wife upstairs," the first cop muttered as he squatted down to get a better look at the father. He shook his head and took a step back to breathe. "dead of course. I checked all over but could find the boy."
"Kidnapped?" Cop one shrugged.
"Or running, or hiding, or dead in a ditch; all in all he's not in the house."
X
"We'll send out a search party for the kid. If he was abducted it's likely the poor bastard's either dead or will be soon."
"We don't know that yet; don't go condemning the son when we don't know what really happened."
"Do you think the kid did this?"
"I don't know."
The others had arrived on the scene. Police cars were swarming the Casil house, scouring the area, looking for any clue as to what had happened on this very dark and heavy night.
As if drawn to the horrific event, all of the neighbors were also outside. They stood in a semicircle just watching the cops, just watching and whispering.
"I always thought they were a strange bunch."
"I heard some burglar busted in and shot everyone."
"Nu-uh, I heard a psycho chopped the whole family to pieces and stuffed them in the oven, that's why the smell's so bad.
"I think it was that Todd kid, I always knew he was a freak."
"Sarah! Stop picking on the poor guy. For all you know he could be dead too."
"So what! Maybe if he'd spent a little less time being weird and more time just acting normal, some homicidal maniac wouldn't have butchered him and his parents."
"His mother's a druggie, you know that?"
"Really? I bet it was the mom."
"I don't think so, I think it was the dad, the guy always was an asshole."
"I remember him; he used to yell at us a lot."
"Poor Todd, he always was so nice, a little weird as well yeah but never mean."
"He was a good boy that one," and this was Mr. Henderson. "used to always help out when needed. True tragedy, the passing of that young man."
"Todd Casil needed to get a life."
"Now you listen here, you swat nosed brats! Todd Casil was a better person than anyus' could ever hope to be. It's ten years bad luck to speak ill of the dead! Now git!"
And the group of kids dissipated. Mr. Henderson gave a sad smile to the gaping mouth of 775.
"I do hope that wherever you are, Todd Casil," He tipped his hat in the house's direction, "you're finally at peace."
And with that Mr. Henderson headed home, unaware that the house of 777 had been listening to the words he spoke. Houses are, in many ways, like people. They tell stories and keep secrets. This particular house would soon have its own story to tell. With its newest resident it was sure to have one of the most interesting tales ever told by a house.
X
Beneath the floor boards of a basement, through an old and dusty tunnel, up several staircases, and past many doors without keys there were strange devices. These odd machines came in many torturous and dreadful designs. There was one that could pull your arms from their sockets while simultaneously sawing your legs off and drilling a hole through your ear. There was another that would twist your head any number of degrees while slowly bending your spine into the most interesting shapes and stretching your arms to touch your toes with out bending over.
The occupant of the house of 777, however, had his own favorite room. Just below the surface level was a room filled with the most fascinating equipment. You see along every wall were hooks and pegs. And propped up on hooks and pegs were the things of any serial killer's greatest dream.
Knives, drills, (and other normal house hold items such as nails and hammers) daggers, meat hooks, chains, heavy padlocks, leather and rope restraints, several work benches and tables, straight jackets, scalpels, sawmills; the list went on and on.
Thin fingers, long and slender, rough and bony, reached out to run along the razorblade-sharp edge of one particular knife. Everything felt hazy and grey. At the end of the handle a wicked smiley face grinned at him.
Squee was entranced. Everything in this room glittered; every blade, every chain link, it all looked brand new.
He'd been wandering this place for what seemed like hours with no sign of Johnny.
"Nny!?" Squee called out for what seemed like the fifteenth time. "Nny are you here?" No one answered.
Slowly he moved towards the last staircase. Each step up made him feel heavy, his ears fuzzy and in the background he could feel a faint buzzing. Like the noise he'd heard when he'd last spoken with his neighbor.
buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz do what you think is best zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
"Johnny?" and the room felt as if it were in a fog, like a spring mist only cold and clammy. He reached the other door, as it was partially open, and Squee could see some sort of reddish orange light. It reminded him of the light of a fire; constantly moving and changing, never standing still.
"Johnny . . ." his voice was low as he pulled the door. It opened without the slightest sound. Squee stood in the doorway for a moment in awe of the complete silence. There was a television in front of a couch and the screen had lit up the room.
The volume seemed to be completely turned down. Peoplewere talking but no sounds came out. It scared Squee this suffocating blanket around him. Without shutting the door he took one step then another, then another until finally he was kneeling right before the T. v.
He reached out to turn the knob when a voice stopped him.
"What are you doing here?"
Squee jumped up and turned to see the door to the various basements had closed.
X
Each installment of this trilogy is a sort of creature on its own. Normally I would tell you that you shouldn't have to read every previous installment to understand but I think with this one you should. The one before this is called Little Red Letter. I say this because this will probably be even stranger than LRL since its supposed to act as a bridge between the two major points, the beginning story(LRL-Squee) and the end(Johnny).
There will also be side stories alluding to other characters in the comic such as Devi, Jimmy, Tess, and such. I feel their stories, while all of this is happening, deserve to be told, don't you?
Review for the next chapter. And yes I'm sorry if it seems I'm holding my updates for ransom but I need to know you guys are interested. If I feel you guys aren't I'll either assume the story is crap or that it needs to be revamped and I'll take it down for fixin'. This is only to better my writing skills, not to be mean or anything.
Thanks for reading and sorry for the abnormally long a/n.