The Morbid Insanity of Charlie The Milkman  (Part 1 of 4)

Somewhere off in the distance a window shattered and then quickly faded away again into the nothingness.          
Waking from a dreamless sleep Charlie's eyes snap open, he was sitting by his lonesome in the dark bedroom.            
           
"HELLo Charles, Did yOu slEeeEep well?"          
           
The sound makes him jump at first but then realizing it was only Mortimer a gangly limbed string puppet with a face that looked much like it had lost several rounds with the wrong end of a claw hammer and a mop of hair congeiled with dried blood, he became slightly less afraid...          
           
Mortimer's good eye flicked about the room aimlessly as if it were looking for invisible bats that may have been clinging to the ceiling somewhere near the old wardrobe at the back of the room.            
You know, the one with the door that always hung slightly asque and had at one point in its existance held a full length mirror-- but Mortimer had long since taken care of that...          
           
"No, dreamless as always. I'm starting to wonder if they'll ever give them back"            
A small frown creasing Charlie's otherwise blank waxen face.          
           
Mortimer flicked his blood matted hair to one side and looked towards Charlie with a cock-eyed expression, his mouth twisting into a maniacal grin that looked as though the corners of his lips were attached to fish hooks on tightly pulled strings.          
           
"But Charles, hOW can they return to YoU what does NOT beloooong?"          
Mortimer's voice rose slightly and then fell back away into the silence of the room like a disturbing after thought.          
           
His voice always reminded Charlie of a brushfire on the savannah, it was crackly and rasped harshly when he emphasized things in the kind of way only a demented toy can do.          
           
"ThAt'S tOo bAD YoU KnOw" Mortimer paused and let his head loll brokenly over his shoulder until the full glare of his twisted grin fell on Charlie before continuing."I wAs goInG to Ask if yoU'vE bEEn HaviNg the saMe dReaM I'Ve BeeN hAviNg"          
           
Hmm... Oh yeah what might that be Mortimer? Charlie asked, his voice hollow already knowing the answer he was            
about to receive.            
           
"I'Ve bEen dReaMinG of a liTtlE giRl who's hAir is cLotTed with blOOd lyiNg nExt to her dEaD mOtHer on a piSs soaKeD maTtrEsS. ShE has eYes lIke an uNdeaD doLL and She mUrmuRs QuiEtly to the vOicEs she HeaRs in her heAd..." Mortimer stopped reguarding Charlie for a long moment of silence before he went on.          
           
"ShE kiLLeD hEr You knOw..."          
           
"Killed who?" Charlie questioned almost absent mindedly as he dragged his eyes away from the shards of broken glass that clung to the peeling wood of his bedroom window, like the last few survivers of the Titanic.        
       
"HeR mOtheR OF coURse!!" Mortimer growled in a slightly irrated tone that quickly died off.        
           
A stiff breeze hissed outside but only a few wisps of moving air dared to enter Charlie's bedroom, stiring up the smell of moldy towels left in a forgotten corner after a day at the pool that mingled with the sickly sweet dregs of rotting wood.          
           
"Charles...?"          
Mortimer rasped sounding almost gleeful having shared his repetitive dream.          
           
"hmm... I think you may have told me about this dream before Mortimer." Charlie replied as he cast a weary side glance in Mortimers direction without meeting his cock-eyed stare.          
         
"Oh But Charles yOu knoW how I lOve The dReaM of tHat litTle Girl aNd her dEad mOthEr..."          
           
"I heard a noise last night Mortimer, was that you coming in?" Charlie questioned almost reluctantly as he finally let his gaze meet that of his deranged puppet.          
           
Mortimer's fish hook grin seemed to tighten and grow just that little bit more as his wandering eye fell into line with it's pair and both rested fixedly upon Charlie.          
           
"I broUghT the TruCk bACk frOm tHe wOodS Last niGHt Charles... I eVen mAnaGed to Get it iNto thE gAraGe ThIs tImE, I tHinK I Did fAirly Well, iT's alMosT sTraIghT eVen."  
   
   
   
   
   
   
Written and published by A Nameless Traveler  A.K.A.  -Andrew F. R. Kerklaan and Keys_and_Gloves