Double Halloween Murder part 5 of 5

Double Halloween Murder part 5 of 5

She is still screaming. Your gaze slowly floats toward the woman in the corner. The lampshade is tilted beside her, casting an odd glow on her skin. She is so beautiful. The vertigo returns and your stomach twists. Your blood feels like it pumps so hard that it could shoot out of your fingers. You tighten your fists against the feelings.
"Stop! Do not you come near me!"

Your eyes roll into your head once more as another jolt of images surges into your brain. Again, it only takes a few seconds. Two walls. A corner. Metal collides with a skull. Hair, tooth, and bone. It is not a head anymore.

The room rushes back at you, and you stare at the crumpled corpse in the corner. The very sight of it causes you to recoil and stumble backward. You fall to the floor. The aluminum bat drops from your hands. Shaking your head, you deny its existence. You never picked it up. You have never seen it before. The walls are red. You cannot look anywhere without seeing something horrible. You squeeze your eyes shut. There is no way to keep your heart from pounding. You start to run your hand through your hair but immediately recoil in disgust at the warmth that touches your head. Thoughts seem like voices.

Speaking aloud, you retrace your steps to your own sanity.

"No, no, no, I... I was being attacked... it is a dream... those things chased me in here, they were after me, those people... they were after me, I ran in here. I was hiding, I was running!"

The music changes. Trumpets softly signal the beginning of a song. A gently galloping drum beat rolls into the room. You stare wide-eyed at the radio on the nightstand. It is a song you recognize, a romantic melody. A man's soothing voice drifts out.

 I... I am so... in love, with you.... ~

You are shaking uncontrollably. Somehow, you find a way to rise to your feet, but you refuse to stare at the carnage in the room. Those people, those two happy lovers... what happened?

"Is it truly still a mystery?"

You whirl at the sound of the voice. Scanning the room behind you, you wait to see a man, a woman, a person, anyone that the voice may have belonged to. Only darkness shrouds the wall... except for the candle burning at the desk. Squinting, you realize that there is someone, or something, seated at that desk. At first, it just looks like more darkness. You can see it though.

It is a hooded robe. The person is seated with their back towards you.

For several seconds, you stare, trying to blink away the blood and the dizziness. Your throat feels too sore to force the words, but the figure in the dark hooded robe speaks again.

"Come now. You have made it this far. No sense in being shy now."

It is a man's voice, calm and distant. The hooded head turns slightly, but you cannot catch a glimpse of the person's face. Everything seems so out of place. The gently humming romantic tune, the bodies strewn about the floor, and now this odd man seated at the desk. You dare to take a step closer, but an overwhelming sense of dread washes over you. It is like the dark around the man snickers at you.

Every sense you have is repulsed by the hooded figure.

"What... what is happening? Who are you and... and what is this place?" You ask, your voice cracking.

The hood turns again. "It's your home, of course. Always has been.

And always will be."

You shake your head defiantly. Anger fills your gut. "No. No, this is not. This is... this is some nightmare."

The hood turns away again, but the voice continues.

"You know, crimes of passion are always the most tragic. Love can drive us to do wonderful things, it can make us feel so alive, like no other thing in the world exists, except that one other person or that one sensation."

You watch the figure move. The sound of a page-turning catches your ear. You glare at the hooded man in utter confusion. He continues talking.

"Love can also drive us to do terrible things. So potent is its touch that we long to keep it to ourselves, and woe to the ones that come between us and our passion... even if the passion has long since left."

You cannot take any more of the nonsense. "What are you talking about? Who are you? What is going on!"

The hooded man turns... completely. You step back at the sight of the blank face behind the drooping cowl. Terror skitters down your skin like a hundred spider legs. You recall the faces of those people in the hall.

"Those people in the hall?" The faceless figure asks suddenly. "Do you still not recognize what you did? Do you still think this is a dream? That you will wake up?"

Your mouth opens but you do not even know what to say. Your head is still shaking. Each breath you take feels forced like at any moment you will collapse from the denial you feel.

The hooded man motions. "Have a look. See what your passion brought you to do. Look upon their faces that you deny even in death.

The face of your spouse. The face of the cheater. This is your story. You cannot change what has been written. Only what will be written."

You turn your head, but you cannot bring yourself to stare at those bodies again. Most especially, you dare not look at what used to be their heads. Glaring at the figure in the robe, you clench your jaw.

"No," you say. "They... no. Those children out there—"

"Are your children," the figure says calmly. The hood shakes back and forth. "Such rage and insanity. The human being is a terrible creature.

Such innocence in the face of tragedy."

Your anger bubbles deep within you. The faceless man is lying. You know he is. You have never seen this house before. You have never seen these people; you know you do not live here with them. You woke up in the yard, you know you did. None of this is possible. It is a dream.

Finding the words, you say, "I did not—"

"Shh, shh!" The hooded figure holds up a hand. "This is the best part!"

You watch as his hooded head nods along to the music in the room.
Why... somebody... why do people break up?

Turn around and makeup...

Annoyed, you take a few steps toward the man.

"I did not kill them!" You yell. "I don't know them! I do not know this house!"

With your vision shaking and your fists clenched, you stare hard at the person at the desk. The hooded figure does not move. The music in the room warps and slows. The candle burns lower. The lamp light begins to flicker. All the tension in your body begins to melt as the hair on your neck stands. From somewhere in the house, the walls begin to groan. Dread emanates from the hooded figure's very being. You tremble uncontrollably.

The hooded head turns. The faceless man peers out at you from his cowl. You imagine that something about that terrible visage is familiar. One word keeps ringing in your ears. A terrible name.

When he speaks, the voice is like the slithering of snakes and the rumbling of thunder.

"Even in Death, you cling to insanity. May denial keep you forever, then."

The siren scream splits the air. You duck and cover your ears.

Turning, you scream at the scene behind you. The bedroom door bursts open. Two small bodies step into the room. Stumbling away, you nearly topple over the tan corpse that struggles to stand. Its leg wobbles as limp as its member. You yelp. Across the room, the woman with the battered head rises in the corner. Four faceless things start to walk toward you.

You look to the desk to find no one there.

The path to the door is blocked. The wretched family closes in.

Frantically, you try to think of what to do next. You are exhausted.

You cannot go on. There is nothing left to do, but you cannot fathom letting those... things get to you. You are backing away. A mad dash does not sound too bad at this point. The bat is lying on the floor. If you can just get to that—

Their black mouths split open wide. The man with the battered head lunges. Leaping back, you stagger and hear a crash. It happens so fast. The fabric you grasp for does not hold you. You are falling away, staring up at the black sky and the four faces in the broken window.

The wind blasts from your chest. Everything is black.

You are not sure what wakes you. It takes a moment to even realize you were asleep. Blinking, you allow your eyes to adjust. Just as soon, as you let your eyes close again. A few more minutes will not hurt.

There is no light against your eyelids. It is not time to get up anyway. Your hand sweeps in an arc as you search for the covers.

There are no covers. You feel only grass.

Your eyes open wide, and you sit up straight. There is an ache in your neck that you cannot quite rub out. It still has not really hit you yet.

You turn and examine your surroundings. What you find makes you just stare in shock.

You are outside.

Why are you outside?