A man stands in the hallway of an old cabin, a mangled corpse below him. Someone is talking to him, although the person remains anonymous. The clock strikes ten hours, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-three seconds.
It's a rather old, mahogany grandfather clock, been running since I was a child. If you happen to watch it at noon, you'll see two small figures emerge from the face of the clock, and 'walk' forward until they separate and go back inside through the sides of the tall, slim, wooden frame. I always would watch that clock when here at the cabin, and if you would stay long enough, you might even witness them emerge again, at midnight. After all, you would only have to wait for an hour and thirteen minutes, maybe about twelve minutes now. It's not like you're going to go anywhere in an hour and twelve minutes; you still have your job to finish.
I hope you like the paintings on the walls. I got them from my grandmother, an expert painter. Her love story with my grandfather was absolutely beautiful, with her being a picture-painter and he being a house-painter. They both loved each other dearly, at least from my point of view. I always heard stories about how they built this house plank by plank, he painting the walls while she figured the design. I mean, everyone knows that expert artists, like herself, are perfect for a job of interior design, knowing which colors go best with which. But, then again, she was rather eccentric, leaving me the house while some rooms had horrid furniture choices. Salmon absolutely does not go with army green, but you could never tell my grandmother that. She was very stubborn, something she gave to my mother, and something I received.
They raised my mother here, you know. She grew up living the ultimate fantasy; carefree parents who gave her everything she wanted and everything she would ever need. It caused my mother to become a spoiled brat, but my father must have been into feisty women. She met him at a band concert. They sat next to each other in a pot ring and their hands touched when he handed her the small, smoking roll of toxins. I've always known my parents to be druggies, it was never a surprise. In fact, as a child, they still wouldn't quit, instead trying to bring me in on the fun. I never liked the smell, and although I love – loved – my parents dearly, they weren't the best influence.
The floor is coated in something sticky, is it? Don't worry, I like cleaning, I'll get it fixed later, hopefully. You can continue forward, it's alright. What's your name, anyways? What, don't like being asked questions?
Ah… Norman? Peculiar name, although I won't question it. You're mother must have not liked you to don you with such an ungodly name. I would never wish that punishment onto anyone. Oh, alright, alright! I won't talk of your mother any more. Sheesh, sorry. That must be a soft spot.
I won't question that either, I just wanted to know your name. I kind of like it, it suits you. You look like a Norman, a rather fancy one. What are you, a doctor? That must be why you're so good at your job. Then again, this must not be your job, more like a hobby, right? I'm sorry, I sort of pry into a lot of things. I'm actually surprised you can hear me. Hold on, make a cut right there. Perfect, now that piece will fit perfectly in, like a puzzle piece. I do love puzzles, especially being as alone as I am.
Oh, that mirror? Yeah, it's a rather old one. My mother said that the day I turned sixteen, she gave me it. I don't remember that happening. I don't remember much anymore. My life is sort of twisted. Especially after my grandfathers accident. He got in a car crash, you know? You probably do, it was all over the news! 'Car hit by train, single passenger dead!' My grandmother was distraught, having never trusted automobiles in the first place, but who could blame her? That's why I don't have one. I couldn't help but laugh when I heard about the whole 'crash' thing. It sounded so ridiculous, like in something on the television. After that, my mother had to move back here to care for my precious, heartbroken grandmother. Such a shame, they weren't lucky enough to die together. I know my grandmother was depressed, so I made her a very special gift; A nice piece of cake. I was always a good cook, and I knew exactly what I was doing, too! She was so much better by the next day. Why, I could even see the happiness in her unblinking eyes! What, like doing that was a bad thing? You know very well what I am capable of now, don't you?
Am I talking too much? I hope I'm not distracting you from doing what you're doing. I think you're doing a good job, too. I think you might be an artist, with really fantastic anatomy knowledge. The way you're separating those pieces, you're a natural! I think my grandmother would have liked you, you two could have had a nice little chat about the color red. I think you like the color red, right? It was my grandmothers favorite color, that's why the walls are red in this hallway.
I haven't talked to someone else in a really long while, I'm so surprised you can hear me! I thought it wouldn't be possible, with the fabulous work you've done to my body, but you can! Oh, stop that, you know very well that what you're doing is absolutely breathtaking. Why, I couldn't think of a better way I could be treated in my death.
What, you thought I didn't know? Of course I did, I knew I was going to die the minute you showed up at my door. I really like the thought you put into the idea, being a 'kitchen inspector'. That was a really good cover, I almost fell for it. That's it, you're an actor! A real swell job you're doing, sir! I'm very proud, although I don't even know your last name. Don't tell me, I don't want to know! It's not like I'm going to be needing it any time soon. Oh, of course I wouldn't try to turn you in! I like what you're doing, remember? Oh, I really do! Garbage sacks? They're in the bottom drawer in the left cabinet right when you walk into the kitchen, dear. How about I just show you?
Oh, yes, in there. Perfect. You see that sink? My mother 'overdosed' in front of it. I believe she was trying to regurgitate the pills I gave her, but she had too many. It was the perfect amount, I think. My father went pretty quick after that, not wanting to live without her. But, he couldn't do it himself, he asked for my help. What, you think I'm crazy? Of course I helped him. I also explained how mothers and grandmothers death was also on me, and he knew I could get the job done. I think you might understand the pleasure of having life slip right through your fingers. Isn't it a magical feeling, just feeling the body go still? 'Like water down a drain', you say? I more or less like to think the water of their life is evaporating into thin air, floating around us. We're breathing it in, breathing it out, using it and abusing it… Oh, absolutely delightful, indeed!
Oh, a storage place? Here, I'll show you my favorite!
This is the attics closet. Pardon the stench, I haven't thrown out the garbage up here in a while. Yes, just stuff it in there, perfect fit! I think we might need an air freshener, although if you think it'll be okay, then… Alright, I'll trust you. You seem very experienced in this hobby of yours. Hey, I found something we have in common, this is both our hobbies! Isn't that great!
Thank you for not burying the body, I don't want to have any part of me in the ground. Besides, since you put her up here with the rest of them, I feel like she'll be among friends. Oh, yeah, I don't feel like she's part of me anymore. When I died – when you killed me – I think I separated from her, both literally and figuratively.
I like hanging out with you, don't say I don't! I know very well that I am not going to heaven, and I think I'm so terrible that even the devil don't want anything to do with me. That's okay though, he doesn't seem like as good of company as you are! I think I'll just stick with you from now on. You're a lovely fellow, you know that? I hope I can be like… A 'guardian angel' of sorts to you, Norman. You're a real swell guy. I find myself opening up to you, 'specially since you killed me.
What time is it, you say? Oh, almost time! I've always wanted to see the figures come out at midnight, let's go see it!
At twelve hours, fourteen minutes, and fifty-two seconds, Norman Bates leaves the Doven's residence with the ghost of the last remaining Doven – Corneilia, or Nia for short – as his 'guardian angel', the one who shows him the way for nearly twenty years of mass murder. He started calling her 'mother' because of the fact that she knew best. Always.