Scribbles in the Dark

March 16, 1937

I guess it’s funny how some men take blue collar jobs for a few bucks a week, call it a good life and die. That’s it, that’s all you were. You successfully amounted to nothing. I once mocked these men, but the career I chose I wish I had not chosen it now. I’ll start this story like all stories start, with ease.

It had been nearly 6 years since I had been made a detective, I mostly did disappearances, child abductions, and once in a while the occasional murder.

It was a Wednesday, and I sat at my dark oak desk with cigarette smoke heavy in the air, the men around me at other desks were joking and poking fun with one another. I took the liberty to light a cigarette of my own in the ratty environment that was the back of a police station, next to the high security cells. As if a bunch of type writing office junkies are gonna stop a bunch of animals in the event of a riot.

Ironic, I sat there contemplating such things as the director put a rather thin file on my desk.

“How do feel about traveling 50 miles to a little hick town to investigate some little p*ss ant that’s probably dead”, director Smith said grinning at me with that whiskey stained smile, crooked toothed b*stard, knew I hated traveling and so he sent me traveling.

“Why me, I have 4 open cases right here”, I said

“Because you have a knack for this sort of thing and your cheap now take it or take the door so help me god you’ll be out of a job before you can say ‘unemployed'”, he said getting hot in the face.

“You back on the sauce there smithy”, smiling, “fine I’ll take your damn case now leave me be”

“If you weren’t such a fish faced piece of dog s**t*t I’d kiss you right now” the director said

“what’s this guys name even” I said

“His name is Peter evens, and he’s been missing for three weeks now”, the director said

“Let me guess, cliché hotel, maybe some creepy house in some town no one has ever heard of?” I said, my voice dripping in sarcasm

“Gee whiz kid I think you finally understand the line of work, but no you prick, other way around it’s in Detroit if that helps” director Smith said

“Gee that helps about as much as a dog for a foot, maybe even a cat-”

“Get the hell out of my sight”, the director said marching off

“You never said where”, I called after him yelling like a mad man

“Figure it out since your so clever” he yelled back

********

I arrived in South Detroit two days later with 10 dollars, a gun and a flask of spirits strong enough to make a gorilla go blind.

Perhaps it was unwise to be drinking on a case, but I had other matter to attend. I walked down a dingy street that had a stench of human waste and sweat. The last place seen reported on the file was across town so I decided to whole up I a hotel, or an inn.

As I was walking I came across a brick house, the glass parlor windows had a sign that read “vacancy”.

Looking back I’m shocked as to what led me to approach the door and knock, but I did.

An elderly man wearing a black suit answered.

“Hello, I need a room?”

Instead of answering he sized me up and stepped aside. The inside of the house had a hard wood floor and a dark winding staircase leading up.

“Do I like-”

I turned around and the old man was nowhere to be seen

“Really” I whispered under my breath

“Evening detective”

I looked towards the source of the voice to see woman with milky white eyes at the top of the stairs.

“Oh great this sorry blind b*tch is gonna break her neck” I thought to myself

“Rooms are 5 cents per night, meals are another 5 cents”, She said as she descended the steps

“Don’t you think that’s a little high” I said flatly

“By all means leave, it will be the smartest move you make in your pathetic little life, detective”

“Your blind, how do you know I’m a detective”, I said

“How do you know I’m blind?”, She replied sarcastically

“You know what never mind”, I said

“Foolish move”, she said holding out her hand for my money

I out a dime in her hand and said “were to miss”

“Oh call me nancy, your room is up these stairs to the left, and don’t touch what isn’t your detective, my boys get very angry”

“Ya well they can get angry as they want with a 40 Cal slug in them” I said

I went up the stairs and opened to door the left

As soon the door shut I heard heavy footsteps come up the stairs and stop at my door.

“Did you put on a few pounds Nancy” I said loudly

“The boy is gone”, it was a voice that did not belong to Nancy, it was a voice like water splashing ice cubes in a glass, like chalk being dropped.

I rushed the door and opened it , to find absolutely no one

“Don’t upset what you don’t understand detective”, this voice did belong to Nancy

“Ya keep the money you crazy milk eyed f*ck” I descended the steps to the door, only to find the door gone.

“Umm Nancy about that milk eyed f*ck thing, I’m really sorry”

“Why would I let you leave detective? We were having so much fun” I turned around and Nancy was nowhere.

A door to my right creaked open slowly, I could see at an angle a fridge.

“Ya no thinks I’m really not hungry Nancy”

The door slammed shut so hard a crack spred up the drywall.

Dust floated down and I reached inside my jacket and drew my revolver

The door cracked back open.

“Go detective”

“Ah hell no you’re gonna cut me in half with a door, how about f*ck that”

The door slammed twice so hard I thought the door was gonna swing of the hinges and go through the opposite wall.

A chunk of the wall fell to the floor with a full thud.

“Now detective”

“No”

“NOW”

“NO”

The door started repeatedly opening and slamming so hard the wall was being destroyed.

“Ya throw a fit, or throw a door I don’t give two sh*ts”

I stood firmly were I was untill heavy thinking footsteps started down the steps, that seemingly came from no one.

“Ya break the f*cking stairs now”, I said

The footsteps continued toward.

“Ya I’ll take the door”

I went through the door into the kitchen, the door slammed shut behind me and I heard the lock click.

“Ya lock me in with your food, great idea”

The door burst open the wrong way sending splinters everywhere, the footsteps started toward me again.

I was out of sarcasm for the moment as a light film of sweat covered me.

I lifted the revolver and fired all 6 rounds towards the steps.

They kept going of course.

“The boy is dead detective”

“Ya know what I could care less about that guy right now”

I turned around and the kitchen was gone, I was standing in what appeared to be a basement.

“Some body got to lazy to write me running from a hell spawn and down stairs”

“The boy is de-”

“F**K THAT GUY ALRIGHT I COULD F*****G CARE LESS YOUR PROBABLY SATANS LEFT NUT, NOW WHERE IS THE EXIT”

“Exit?”

“Ya know what forget it I’ll just wait here, write this s**t down and die”

“That’s cliché”

“Look who’s talking, spiral staircase are you f*****g serious, and who the hell has a kitchen door”

“We don’t have one anymore”

“Oh excuse me you wreck it Ralph m**********r”

“What?”

“Oh forget it, give me a pen and paper”