Confession is Good for the Soul (Part 2)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is Part 2 of 3 to my short story "Confession is Good for the Soul." After reading, please leave a comment, good or bad, so I can learn from my work. Thanks to all.

Submitted: April 20, 2011

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Submitted: April 20, 2011

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3. The Call

 

6:22 PM “This is 911, Can you please state the nature of your emergency?”

 

6:22 PM “Yes, My name is Marshall Jackson. I live at 406 BoMonte Ln in Freedom. My wife has been killed”

 

Scurrying and static.

 

6:23 PM “Please come quick, there is blood everywhere.”

 

6:23 PM “Sir, I’m dispatching units your way. Please try to relax. Stay on the phone with me.”

 

6:23 PM “I loved her….”

 

Clunk

 

4.Donna

I met Donna when I was 23 years of age, and I immediately fell in love for the first time in my life. I never really thought of women much, they usually scared me more so than turned me on, but with Donna it was different. We met at Dinky’s Donuts off the corner of Robson St. in Freedom. Yes, I graduated High School, and never thought about furthering my career. Instead I went straight to work in place of my father down at the Freedom Mill, which manufactured paper product, simply put. I took my father’s spot due to him falling very ill in late 1978. I still work there today. Anywho, I met Donna at Dinkys one day after I got off work, and stopped in for a banana foster crumb cake, my favorite. Donna had just started working there running the cash register and tending to people with their needs.  I walked in and asked her for a Banana crumb cake, which she got for me. She asked me if I worked at the mill, which I did, and then asked me if I knew Roger “Roggy” Reigel. I did. She then told me that she was his sister, and she was new in town. I said welcome to Freedom. I was never much of a talker with women, did I mention that? I ate my banana crumb cake and paid my tab, and threw and extra 2 dollars down on the counter. I got up and turned to leave and I heard her say, “Hey sir, instead of giving me this 2 dollars, how about you keep it and show me around town? Seeing I’m new around here and all?” I turned around, again flushed, and said “I’m Marshall Jackson.”

Me and Donna fell in love quick. I was not a big fan of her brother, Roggy, but I was a big fan of Donna. She made me feel something that I had never felt before for anybody else…love. We dated for 1 year and that’s all it took for me to know I never wanted to lose her. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. Now, I mentioned that my father had become ill in 78. It turned out it was the cancer, and he died in 81. Doctors said they were shocked he made it that long. Anyway, after he died I had inherited the house and everything in it, which I still resided in, and moved Donna right in with me. We were married June of 1981, and still are together, well…were together. We never had any children. Never even thought about it. I guess we didn’t want anything coming in between our love. After the crash with Stew and Martha, I had never encountered the creature again. Until tonight.

Donna believed in doing the laundry every night to keep the basket empty. I, on the other hand, liked to let it pile up and do it all in one day. But to this, I never argued. If she wanted it done, I would oblige. I usually cooked supper since Donna did the laundry at this time. Our laundry room is a little room on the second floor that is connected to my father’s old bedroom, which is now Donna and I’s. I was in the kitchen tonight and it was about 5:30ish if I recall correct. The time doesn’t matter. What matters is the events that occurred this evening. I was making a dish my father used to call “Cowboy Spaghetti” which is basically regular spaghetti with beer and bacon in the sauce. I was chopping up the onions when I heard a whimpering….which was very familiar to me in some way. I looked around and seen nothing. I continued to chop when I heard the whimpering again. This time I knew something was wrong. I heard that same sound when I was 10 reading my comic books. “Please, not again” I said again in a low deep breath. I looked around and still seen nothing to avail. This time I did not continue to chop. I took a step out around the bar, towards the refrigerator and looked down onto the floor. In front of the fridge was a big spot of red foam. It looked like it had come from a rabid dog. I took another step and there was another spot of red foam.  “Donna! Lock the door!” I yelled. “Marshall?” she said. “What’s wrong ?”.  ”Just lock the goddamn door up there!”  Another step, another spot of foam. He heard a door shut upstairs. This was good. The foam appeared to be in the form of a trail, and it was leading into the closet around the corner into the living room area. I approached it slowly, closed my eyes, reached for it, and put my hand on the doorknob. Turned. The door to the closet creaked open slowly. I opened the door and once I felt comfortable I opened my eyes. There it was. The creature. The thing. Just when I thought I had forgotten about it, it was back for another round. It was realer than ever. I said to myself, or maybe to it, “Please, no. Not again.” It was as if I was pleading with it. I felt a dizziness come over me and a source of heat spark up from deep within. That spot where the creature had touched me when I was 10 years old right above my collarbone on my chest felt hot enough to melt wax. The creatures mouth was a sick red, filled with the foamy substance it had left all over the floor. It was hungry. I looked it in the eyes, those dark devil eyes. Its grin grew wider, took a deep breath, hunched its shoulders, and that’s the last thing I remember.

I remember coming back to reality with my dead wife’s corpse lying on the bedroom floor. There was blood everywhere, along with patches of her long red hair in clumps on the floor. I looked to my left and seen an axe with bloody handprints all over the handle, laying in front of the laundry room door that had obviously been smashed in. The creature smashed open the door, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her through, and then proceeded to hack her up. The creature didn’t have fingers, it had claws, so those handprints must be from Donna. Self defense? I think not. I looked down at my beautiful bride, and realized my life, as I knew it, was over. The love of my life was dead. And who is going to believe my story. Same people that believed it all the times before. Nobody. I had to do something though. I reached for the phone and made the call.


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