Under The Streetlamp

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
My first story that I have published on this site. Word of warning it might get depressing as you read.

Submitted: September 16, 2016

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Submitted: September 16, 2016



Under The Streetlamp


Bobby hated the night time strolls down 4th street in Bremerton, Washington which is the city where the ferries would take people to Seattle. It was an interesting reason for that particular street that led him to despise it in the first place. It wasn’t the pot heads that stood around with their buddies talking trash and ripping bowls until the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t the little circle of teenagers that would congregate in the darkest corners of the street while they smoked Marlboros and complained about every little thing. Even BLM supporters, drunk drivers, and potheads were not the reasons for hating 4th street Bremerton, Washington where the ferries took people into Seattle. Bobby hated it for a rather interesting reason that most normal people would not consider nor would they believe. Bobby hated it because of the negative energy that it gave off when you walked down it late in the night. It was the kind of energy that you get when you're reading a horror novel or watching a horror movie. A slight unease that something is watching you or something is following you even when you were in a place where the rest of the public could see you. It was almost supernatural and that scared Bobby more than reading a Stephen King novel like Salem’s Lot or The Shining.  


He would just be on his merry way, walking past the potheads and teenagers, still grumpy about having to walk down that hellish street, and he would feel that energy that he hated more than anything. It started in small spurts almost like a kid tugging at your jacket because he had to use the head. That was not as bad or annoying as it would seem but it would get worse in at least thirty seconds. It then transformed to a feeling like having butterflies in your stomach which was possibly the worst feeling about the energy and the most climaxing bit that made Bobby want to get to his car and get home. It then transformed to something that Bobby called, “The Sight”. It occurred after one minute of the butterflies and it was the most painful. Bobby hated the butterflies in his stomach more than he hated this but it still hurt the most. It began with a pounding headache, like someone driving a chisel into his brain. Then it went to the stomach which stung so bad that Bobby’s wincing was practically noticeable. These pains went on for thirty horrible seconds until it began at last. It started with a feeling like his brains were being scrambled but not in a painful way. It was as if his brain was shaping and reforming to try and show him something. After that strange feeling it would begin with a blinding blue flash, almost like a flash back, and he would see the other people he saw everyday when he walked down that street.


A woman was taking her three year old daughter from the little ice cream place on Pacific to their car in the late 60’s. She was nearing Park Avenue when a tall, muscular man wearing a black leather jacket turned the corner. The mother, being nervous of the man the was approaching him, moved to the far right of the sidewalk. The man still got closer and closer which made the woman more nervous. She switched her child to the right of her physical person and continued walking, trying to act confident. The man got closer and closer so much so that he was practically in grabbing distance of her. Of course that meant that he his face was very visible. He had a messy head of hair and a unkempt mustache the made him look like the type of person you wouldn’t want to be alone with. He must have noticed that the woman was being defencive which caused him to get aggressive. He suddenly grabbed the little girl in the polka dot dress and began to try and run up the street with her. The mom was screaming for help as she chased after the ‘napper which had the one thing that she cared the most about. She chased him all the way back up to Pacific when she finally caught up to him. She grabbed his jacket and tried to pull him toward her and grab her child. All that caused him to do was stop in his tracks and drop the child. She had successfully stopped him but wasn’t prepared for the next part. He withered free from her grasp, punched her in the face, pulled out a .32 Smith and Wesson from his jacket pocket, and shot her in the skull. The child and the man were never heard from again.  


A man was walking down 4th street, where the almost always empty parking lot is, to get to his car and head home to his wife and child. It was 2:00 am in 1996 and he knew that he would be in trouble for staying out this late and drinking so much. His wife was a very paranoid person and was always careful to make sure that the family was eating safe and doing healthy activities. This applied to the man because he couldn’t keep any booze around the house which caused him to stay out so late. His wife hated that and always told him that “it was setting a bad example for the kids” and would always ask “what would your mother think?”. To which he would remind her that his mother was dead because she drank so much alcohol and ended up with liver poisoning. To that she would snarl at him and storm off into their bedroom for the rest of the evening. He would always go back every Friday and sit at the front of the bar with the T.V remote and watch old movies like “Gone With The Wind”. He would sit there and stare at a screen while drinking whisky and chomping on a Malboro. He would then pay up at about 1:00 to 2:00 am and head out to his car and go back into the real world of responsibility. That's how it was on his last night when he was walking back to his car in the dead of night when he saw something that he wished he hadn’t seen. There were three black men all beating on another black man with rocks and pipes. The man on the ground was trying to deflect the blows that were landing on him left and right but was having little to no success. There were cracks and snaps of bones breaking that could be heard all the way across the parking lot. But the three black guys didn’t see the man standing by his car watching the ordeal. In fact they didn’t notice him start to call the police in the phone booth near the only car in the lot. That was until the snitch started talking. He was obviously drunk and could be heard across the lot. This caused the three criminals to turn and look in the direction of the talking. The man was on the phone with the 911 emergency phone woman that was always on the other end. He was on the verge of telling her the address when he turned and saw the three men walking toward the booth. That didn’t scare the man as much as the gun that the one in the middle was holding. He told the operator that he was in trouble and hung up. He opened the doors and ran out into the night as fast as he could. He had made it about halfway from his car into the street when he turned and saw the gunman aiming his pistol at him vertically. The last thing he felt was the bullets piercing his back and the concrete ground he hit.


Many more memories went by as Bobby was nearing Park Avenue where his car was waiting for him. He would walk by the movie theatre and would see the woman running past him with an exit wound in her head. It was her ghost and he would see it every day he walked down that street. He saw many other things to. A man that had died of a heart attack was roaming the streets with his hand on his chest, a young boy that was about 15 years old had OD’ed on some cocaine and was trying to find his mother, a man had killed himself in an apartment with a shotgun blast to the head and was now walking around with half his head missing, and many other people that would take up a few more pages of this depressing story. Bobby had come to realize that this street had a history and most of it Bobby was seeing through his eyes. These spirits were trying to find peace like that woman that was trying to find her baby, or the drunk that was trying to find that gang that was never found, or that boy trying to find his mommy who had moved to Boulder, Colorado three years ago. This fact made Bobby horribly sad and depressed which made him feel bad for those people which made him think of the saddest things in his life.  For example his Dad walking out on his Mom when he was seven, him being dumped by his wife in the year 2000, and him biting the bullet in his car on September 6, 2001.


He remembered it so well, like it happened yesterday. He had got back from Seattle after getting himself fired by telling his boss to screw himself, putting money away in a bank account for his son, and walking down the street that he hated, but not as much, and getting into his car. He pulled out a handgun, took out a picture of his wife and son, put it on the dash, and blew his brains out. Since then it has been an infinite loop of seeing people go by and wishing that he could just go home.


This street did indeed have an energy that it gave off. It was a certain type of energy that Bobby hated because it reminded him that he would never go home for an eternity. Bobby would be walking that street, trying to hold back the ability to see those around him, but would see them anyway because the force was to powerful. Doing that made Bobby feel all the things that he felt when he attempted to block it all out. The tugging, the butterflies, and the head and stomach pains that he felt would all appear no matter what he did. Because of this, Bobby hated 4th Street between Pacific Avenue and Park Avenue in Bremerton, Washington where the ferries took the living to Seattle but couldn’t take the dead away. Where the pot heads were smoking joints and talking in a very slurred manner and where the emo teenagers stood in corners, complaining about how much they hated their parents as they smoked Marlboros and sealed their fate. Bobby would love to be back in his little East Bremerton home with his wife and son and dog and not have any worries. He would love to wake up to eggs and hashbrowns and come home to meatloaf or lasagna. He would love to play catch with his son or go on little drives with his family in their van. He regretted talking to his wife like how he did and he regretted blowing his brains out in the car. But as his mother always said when Bobby did a bad thing, “You have to pay the piper Bobby. It was your choice to throw that rock at the poor boy’s leg and you did it.” That little wisdom made him chuckle every time he thought about it as he sat in the car nobody noticed.


Outside, the night was dark and the moon, high in the sky. A slight brezze blew in from the East. The cars that were going by and the laughing of couple made the level of happiness increase. It was indeed a nice evening to be out walking around with your loved ones while keeping them close at the same time.


The End

© Copyright 2018 Richard Ford Perry. All rights reserved.

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