INTRO THEME : "OLD BOY" by Brick and Mortar
Upon leaving flat number 21, I elected to use the keys my client gave me to have a little look around his home. There's not much harm in it, I'd reason. In fact I'd say it's even a critical point of contribution toward the case. I'd use his flat as a base of operations, and watch every person who passes through the main hall outside.
If they weren't guests of my client.. they'd be visiting either of the flats above. A prime suspect.
My logic? Bulletproof.
And so down the stairs I went, noting to keep away from the door to number 20 and its stink. I noticed a dim glow of red leaking from under it, before a shadow passed by quickly. There were no footsteps, or any kind of creaking of floorboards except for that smell of mould and stale air, and the prickling feeling which began to creep down my spine like a snake.
"I'll get to the bottom of that place, I swear it." I said to myself. Maybe I should not make a habit of saying my plans out loud to myself but I didn't really care at that moment. I just wanted to go back to bottom of the stairs and into my client's house.
I rushed down the flight, taking it two steps at a time until I had finally arrived to the door of flat number 19. The hostile energy left behind, I inserted the key into the lock and pushed the handle down. It angled about ninety percent of the way, but got jammed at the end. I had to thump the ball of my palm on it to break through, swinging in on the creaking door hinges.
If doors are sentient, why are they assholes to me specifically?
Well, the client's flat was a nice enough place. A little bland for my tastes, but it would do as a place to investigate from. The curtains were drawn, their old styled olive green material blocking the bright window from view - not that there was much of a view behind at all. They let in enough light for me to be able to see the room pretty clearly.
In the corner of the room, beside the curtains, sat a large shelf filled with different VHS cases and one or two Playstation 2 games cases. Perched atop this wooden shelf were a grey twenty inch CRT television and a rather worn Playstation 2 console, an original one as well. Beside the TV was an empty case for the VHS release of The Lord of the Rings : The Fellowship of the Ring.
My eyes swept the room, finding a couple bookshelves by a closed door, and a single brown fake leather couch opposite an electric fireplace. The couch had a few pillows strewn across its length.
Considering his appearance, the decoration of my client's living room wasn't all that surprising. However I really was not in the position to be judging the state of this flat, when my own office was in a constant state of disarray. In comparison it seemed like I had stepped into a luxury condo.
It was still a very plain place of living. I shrugged and continued forth through that door across the room.
It opened into a room of total darkness. I felt a queasy feeling of unease within my stomach as I stared out into the darkness beyond the door. Suddenly, I was struck with a strong compulsion to find a light switch and turn it on as soon as possible or else something horrible might happen!
I fiddled with a light switch and flicked it on semi-frantically. An amber light bulb buzzed to life, chasing away the darkness within the room.
'what the hell just came over me...' I wondered.
I pushed the thought right to the back of my brain before looking over the room. It was a bland, undecorated kitchen. The counters, cupboards, oven, sink, fridge-freezer and washing machine were made in an L-shape up against the rear corner of the room and in the centre was a small dining table with four chairs.
It was a mismatched mess of a kitchen. Like my client only cared about buying the cheap stuff and put zero mind into whether any of it fit each other's styles or not. The kettle was made of see through plastic, whilst the toaster was a flimsy looking black plastic thing which would barely fit two slices of bread inside of itself. The microwave was a blemished cream colour with a little tartan mat atop it.
On the wall immediately to the left, there were two shut doors, and another door straight ahead, beside the washing machine.
May as well conclude this little tour then.
I opened the first door to the left. Inside was a tiny, cramped little bedroom barely six feet wide, and with a single bed shoved up next to the wall. A few cardboard and plastic boxes were stuffed under the bed frame. A bedside cabinet just about fit next to the head of the bed, a little reading lamp and some James Patterson book rested on top of it. This man had once again failed to surprise me.
The next door led to a sizeable bathroom, with towels put on the floor beside the bathtub and the toilet. The sink had a mirror cabinet above it which had splatters of dried toothpaste scum scattered all over it. The toothbrush looked at least a year old ; Its bristles flattened, rough and fading in colour. I shut the door imminently to go check the final room of the house.
I opened the door, which whined on its hinges as a vacuum cleaner tumbled out. I was just able to catch it before it crashed to the ground. I was now looking into a dingy cleaning supplies cupboard, with shelves lining the walls, and a whole manner of cleaning, polishing, gardening junk kept within. I tossed the vacuum cleaner back inside and shut the door.
OK, admittedly, that tour didn't produce many answers at all. But there comes a time in a man's life when he just wants to have a look around someone's house unwarranted. Of course, it's not a crime if the owner already gave me the key. Now my next move? Stay here until the client came back. I rummaged through the fridge to find a bag of cookies from ShopRite, and returned to the living room to sit back down on the couch, leaving the kitchen light on and the door wide open.
Now, how does a guy have any fun in a bland flat like this? Well, I'd play some PlayStation games of course! As the thought entered my head, I put the cookies down on the seat next to me and shuffled over to the TV on my knees, looking for something good.
I used to have a PlayStation console of my own in my office, which I would find myself playing one of two games - GTA : San Andreas or Dark Souls. Of course, I had to sell it and the TV a few months ago. I missed it a lot sometimes.
"Well, what do we have to choose from here.." I mumbled to myself as my finger moved alongside the spines of the games cases.
There were only four games.
WRC : Rally Evolved, Resident Evil 4, The Hobbit and Godai : Elemental Force.
I decided to play the rally game. It wouldn't be too long until my client came back from whatever job he had, right? I flicked the plug socket's switches on, booted up the console, which was already connected to the TV and placed the disc within the disc drive. I was already feeling ready to win a few virtual races. Driving might not be my forte in real life, but I was a whiz at Mario Kart - a game world where you likely won't go to jail for bombing the other drivers and crashing into infrastructure.
The game was fun enough, if not a little difficult to get the hang of. It had pretty detailed physics for its time, and I'll just say that the Mario Kart skill did not in fact carry over. I found myself stuck in the muddy areas of the game many, many times whilst learning to play. It didn't help that there was no music or anything.
Just the sound of the car, the man telling you the directions of the course and environmental stuff like the whistle of wind through the low poly trees or the bitcrushed sound of cheering people as I drove past PNGs of crowds stood beside the barrier of the race course.
The day drew on as I beat rally after rally, tournament after tournament. I had eaten the entire packet of cookies by now, and it had begun to grow dark outside. To the point that the only light in the room was the amber glow of the kitchen light bulb, and the buzzing white light spilling from the TV.
Yet my client had not come back yet.
I tried to ignore it. But then another hour and a half passed. Maybe he was late. But when the clock hit 9 PM, I pressed pause, flicked the living room light on and began pacing back and forth, thinking it over.
Maybe he had found an alternative place to stay for the night, assuming I would indeed go to his house and look around? But his setup here didn't really scream "I have a multitude of supportive people in my life!"
In fact, I didn't see one family photo in the entire flat. The pitter-patter of fast moving footsteps across the ceiling interrupted my train of thought. I looked up, as if waiting for another noise from the flat above which never came. It must've been some kind of.. dog? Maybe that explains the quick, shallow breathing I heard earlier. But dogs usually bark. They're also not allowed in a flat like this. Once again, I brushed the event aside, deciding I'd question some people who live nearby about this flat..
'yeah.. the investigation can continue tomorrow..' I shrugged. 'I'll get to the bottom of all this eventually.'
I ignored all the warning signs which played in my head, and lay back on the couch. Eventually, falling into a deep slumber, despite the bright light which was on in the room..
.
.
[XXX]
.
My eyes snapped open. It was totally dark within the room. Both the kitchen light, the living room light and the TV had been switched off. Which was weird. Because I know I wasn't the one who did that. I suddenly felt cold - exposed. Despite the jacket I wore, I felt naked lying here on the couch. And despite the feeling of dread which began to approach me like a tsunami approaches the coast of a bustling city, I still tried to brush it off. Maybe my client had arrived, and had turned off all the appliances, without waking me up.
Yeah. That made sense.
But why did I still feel an abject sense of restlessness within myself? I blinked my eyes and tried to move. I couldn't move.
It was then when I felt it. It was a feeling of total disgust. Like a rancid bucket of shit and vomit had been placed in the room before me. My stomach did somersaults, and I gagged, trying so hard to not throw up right then and there. I wasn't alone in this room. But somehow I knew the client still wasn't home yet. This wasn't a person in front of me. It was a thing.
The air seemed to shift and distort, becoming stale in Its shadow.
Suddenly, A pair of eyes flicked open mere steps away from me.
'calm down, Gibbs Jones.. it's sleep paralysis. I've had this before. Just close your eyes and go back to slee-'
"It's not sleep paralysis~" Came the voice. The voice was sickly and held no emotions whatsoever. The voice came from It.
I closed my eyes, trying to get back to sleep.. I tried hard to ignore the presence in front of me. It was no use. The sickly feeling was the strongest I had ever felt in my life. I felt myself begin to break out in a sweat as I opened my eyes slowly, a cold feeling crawling over my skin as my eyes met Its.
"So.. you can see me. Interesting. None of you humans who've been sent here have been very interesting at all.. that is, until now of course. How curious~"
It's gaze was heavy, cold and calculating - so much so that it seemed to peer into my very soul. Its presence was huge. As if it covered the whole room in its foul odour.
'oh God, It can hear my thoughts'
"Not specifically. However.. that's far too complicated for the likes of you..." It seemed to apprehend me for a moment, "so much potential, yet so easy to kill~"
I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate, my eyes wide, staring deep into a gaze which could only be described as self serving and evil.
"I won't kill you quite yet, though. There's something you have that I want.. Come see me in the floor above when you're ready.."
As suddenly as it was there, the presence dissipated, fading away but never quite leaving. A weight was relieved from not only my own body, but the rest of the room too, as if there was a whole ocean of weight which had just drained. I sat up and my eyes darted around the room, seeing no signs of something out of the ordinary. I looked at the ceiling and felt a wave of discomfort wash over me.
Maybe it was something to with drugs after all.
In any case..
I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
.
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[XXX]
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By the time the light of the sun began filtering through the curtains, flooding the living room with an early morning glow, I was sat on the sofa wide-eyed and exhausted. I checked the time every half an hour, from the time I was rudely awoken at 3 A.M, right till sunup at 6:34 A.M.
I couldn't take the inaction anymore. I stood up feverishly, walking into the kitchen and flicking the light on. It flickered and buzzed to life, casting light onto the room once more. I found some milk, and some Cheerio's before making myself a little bowl. There was barely enough milk to fill the bowl, but enough to stop it from being dry and dusty. I had to force myself to eat the whole bowl, before leaving it on the floor. It was now 7 A.M.
It's about time to start asking around. I shivered a little as I thought about that thing which came to see me just a mere few hours before, not daring to say anything out loud which would offend It. Like the entire building had become Its domain.
Of course, I had never had an experience quite like it.. was it a ghost? Some kind of demon? It mentioned I was the first human it had met which was able to see it.. What does that say about me? This opened a new avenue to the case which I didn't really like at all.
When my client had come strutting into my office and poking into my personal thoughts, well.. Even with hindsight being 20/20, I couldn't have even imagined my job being any more than coming up here, looking around the flats, asking a few questions, watching the hallway and then handing in the evidence to the police so that they could acquire a warrant.
'I guess nothing is ever that simple.'
But this case is the last shot I have of keeping my office - and my dream. Despite the abject danger I might be in. I'd have to get right to the heart of things. I'd have to remain committed to it, all the way to the end.
I quickly left the flat, locking both doors behind me. In my slight rush to get out from that place. I spied the mailboxes on the wall, under the little alcove entranceway.
There were three of 'em, each labelled with the numbers of the flats inside, from 19 to 21. Number 21 was completely empty. Number 20 was filled to the brim with pamphlets, newspapers, flyers and envelopes which had been haphazardly crammed into the tiny space so much so that crumpled, manky pieces of paper were spilling out of the top. Number 19 had a single newspaper and a handwritten, addressed letter inside, written in a neat cursive. I plucked it out and examined it.
It was addressed to my client of course. His name - "Joshua Errant-More". Fitting.
I pocketed the envelope, planning to read the letter sometime later on.
There was a small convenience store open nearby, called Mace's. So nearby in fact it was just around the corner and a mere two minute walk. So I walked.
The little bell jingled as I pushed open the door. The store was pretty small, and smelled faintly of Frebreeze. The shelves were stacked with an assortment of goods, such as bread, sweets and chocolate and different cereals.. yknow, whatever is sold in a convienience store.
Weaving between the miniature aisles of shelves towards the front counter. There were no other customers in at this hour. Good. I'd be asking some questions to whoever was tending the cash register.
She was a young lady , about my age. Perhaps a couple years older, give or take. She was a redhead, her auburn hair reaching to her shoulders, perhaps recently trimmed. Her eyes were grey yet somehow bright at the same time. She wore a grey tank top and a denim skirt with a wide hem at the bottom, ample summerwear. Unfortunately it was currently late September. The warm weather was drawing to a close at this time of year...
"Hey, are you okay? You look tired." She said to me. I realised that yes, my eyes were feeling really bleary. I rubbed them vigorously and approached her.
"Uh. Hello," I paused, she gave me a quizzical glance, "My name is Private Detective Gibbs Jones, I was hired by one of the residents around this area and I'd just like to ask you a few questions." I always liked reciting that line. It was one of those things which made being a Detective really cool.
"Oh. Alright then." Her face shifted to a neutral expression, "what is it then?"
"Well first off, can you tell me your name?" She nodded.
"I'm Sandra. Some people call me Sandy though."
"Right. So, Sandra. Let me get straight to the point of the interview. What do you know about the resident of number 20 Magher Drive?"
"Oh. I see how it is now." Her expression was beginning to lose its welcoming energy.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Do you know how many people that little man has asked to help him investigate that flat? Wayy too many. And I heard none of them have stepped back out of that flat after going in. Could be wrong though, but how could it when the entire neighbourhood is whispering about it?"
I remembered the nightmare I'd had earlier - then I remembered it wasn't a nightmare at all. I remembered what It said.
"None of you humans who've been sent here have been very interesting at all.."
I furrowed my brow in thought. Sandra tilted her head and her grey eyes met mine. Now, I'm not much of an emotional man, but the events of the last twenty-four hours hadn't put me in the most stable position. I might even say, at that moment, that I found myself struck.
She blinked.
"Well, I've got some advice for you Mr. Jones. Quit this case and don't look back. It'll be good for your health."
I shook my head.
"That's not possible."
She looked almost disappointed.
"Well don't say I didn't warn ya. Is there anything else you'd want from me?"
"No. Thanks for the time, Sandra."
"Please. Call me Sandy. No need for us to be all formal." She smiled brightly at me. "See ya soon, if you're not dead and stuff."
I waved politely and left, feeling happy for some odd reason as the bell jingled and the glass door shut behind me.
'I'm making good progress in the investigation, that's why I'm feeling good!' I lied to myself.
Well, it's time to continue my work. There's no rest for the wicked as they say, and there was something very wicked about this investigation... I made my way back towards the flats, the funnel of the power station at the bottom of town watching over the entire town, faint wisps of smoke filtering from its chimneys.
to be continued next week
OUTRO THEME : "CRAZY MY BEAT" by CODA