I was awakened at three a.m. by the insistent ringing of my telephone. I hated waking to the phone in the middle of the night. Anything that couldn't wait until morning just had to be bad news! No one ever called after 11 to say that everything was fine, it was always about an emergency or death EVERY time.
I glanced at the clock as I sparked a fresh cigarette. I was in no hurry to hear bad news so I let the phone ring as I prepped myself, secretly hoping that whoever it was would give up trying to reach me in the next ten seconds. It was a foolish wish. Nervously I pulled the receiver from it's cradle and lifted it to my ear.
"Hello?"submitted by: nitemare@redrose.net
A young female voice replied "Hello", in a very frantic, but whispered voice, "my name is Dora from room thirt-".In the back ground I could hear a door creeking and a radio suddenly increasing in volume, and what could have been foot steps. It appeared that I had lost the connection. An eerie chill rivetted my spine. I sat for what seemed an hour unable to move with hundreds of thoughts entering my mind.
A quick glance at the clock showed 3:13pm....
submitted by: davehibshman@erols.com
Unable to sleep I swung my legs to the floor. The phone call left me with a very disturbed feeling. Her voice was filled with fear. My sharp instincts I have learned never to ignore, screamed SOMETHING IS WRONG!! Should I contact the police? No way, they'd think I was nuts! Still, I had to do something. My ashes tipped off and hit the floor as I dialed *69 and waited...submitted by: catyacat@aol.com
The operator finally gave up the number, so I dialed the source of the earlier call. I took a long drag on the cigarette as I waited for what seemed like an eternity. By the third ring, I was up and prepairing to exit my room when a voice came thru the phoneline."What?" a gruff voice snapped.
"I want to speak to Dora!" I demanded. The voice laughed at my request.
"If you enjoy being healthy, my friend, forget about Dora."
I stared at the reciver for a moment after the line went dead, then dropped it as I went to retrive my pistol from its hiding place in the small closet.
submitted by: mars4554@yahoo.com
As I glanced at its dark gleaming presence in my hand, and felt the potential power of the small weapon, I gained confidence. I thought of Dora's frantic voice and I gained strength. I charged through my apartment door and thought "What the heck am I doing!"I slumped against the wall of the hall and felt all my cowardice come foreward. I lived on the third floor in #39 Dora had said that her apartment # was thirty something. Just then, a door opened and a small, dark man slipped quietly out of an apartment door,holding something under his coat.
submitted by: mad@netnitco.net
I crouched low to make myself a smaller target and raised the gun level with the man's head."Freeze!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. The startled man jumped at my booming voice and threw his hands in the air with a gasp. The item he had been holding under his coat fell to the floor without a sound. I approached him from behind and pushed him face first against the wall. After frisking him I examined the item on the floor. It was a pair of trousers.
"I can explain!" the man said excitedly. "My wife sent me up here for some cough medicine, then I accidently spilled coffee on my pants and I took them off to dry, nothing happened in there I swear it!"
"Is Dora in there?"
"Dora? Who the hell is Dora? This is Bambi's room."
I was confused. Apparently this guy was just a cheating husband and not the person that Dora, whoever she was, was afraid of. My yell had awakened all of the neighbors and every door on the floor had opened and had someone staring out of it.
"Dora?" I called. "Has anyone seen Dora?"
"What about Dora?" a young hispanic woman asked. "She doesn't live on this floor. She's on the first floor,... in room thirteen!"
submitted by: nitemare@redrose.net
I tightened my robe and dashed out to the elevator making sure that I still had the pistol. The blood rushing through my veins slowly calmed with the ride down to the first floor. Sleepiness was setting in."I never get a chance to get a good restful sleep anymore," I thought to myself, "why me!"
I crept down the hallway trying to look inconspicous. When I got to room thirteen, I stayed away from the peep hole and checked the door knob. It was unlocked. Leaning aganst the wall trying to stay awake, I pushed the door open. It let out a long slow creeking sound that echoed throughout the hallway. I peered my head around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. I heard that the raido had been turned back down. I searched around and found the place was empty.
submitted by: mentlblur@hotmail.com
I prepaired to pick up the phone and call the police when a glimmer of red caught my eye. I bent low by the door frame and retrieved what was a matchbook with black letters on a flaming red background. The writing spoke of someplace located in the waterfront district called 'The House of Hastur.' Inside was a small, scrawled note that said: "Mpx Augn 13. 2nite. Z."I pocketed the matchbook by reflex (being a smoker) and took a final look around the room. That is when I noticed the lack of ashtrays in the room. Either Dora had washed them all or didn't smoke, so the matchbook certainly looked like it did not belong to her.
"Put this in the evidence bag," I jested to myself. "Our perpatrators have left behind a clue." That's when it hit me. I honestly had half-convinced myself that this might be just a simple misunderstanding or a typical spousal/signifigant other argument. I had also begun to feel rather ridiculous running around my apartment buliding wearing a bathrobe, toting a pistol and a burnt out cigarette butt sticking out of my lips. But something far worse than an arugument had taken place here. I turned to return to my apartment to get dressed and think this out for a bit, when I noticed the strange smell that was hanging in the air of Dora's place.
submitted by: mars4554@yahoo.com
It was a waterfront smell, like dead fish but only stronger. Not just from being in the area though. Almost like whoever was here had a pocket full of molding salmon on them when they entered the room.I exited Dora's room and returned to my own to try and sort this out. I grabbed a quick shower and donned some clothing and then grabbed a beer from the fridge. I sank into my favorite chair and rolled the matchbook over in my fingers, trying to remember any gossip I had heard concerning the so-called "House of Hastur." The place had an unsavory reputation, but nothing out of the ordinary considering that side of town. I opened the book and considered the cryptic messeage scribbled inside.
"Mpx Augn 13. 2nite. Z"
I held the matchbook to my nose and caught a fading odor of the fish smell again, leaving me to conclude that this came to Dora's place via whoever was there when she called.I tossed back the last of my beer and glared at the matches. I looked at my clock and did a double take at the time. I'd had enough of mysteries at this time of the morning and losing sleep over other people's problems. I stood up and retrieved the phone from my bed and began to dial the police when I got the feeling I was not alone in the room.
I turned towards my front door and found a figure standing there, a good trick since I was always in the habit of double locking my door behind me. It was sihlouetted in the hall light and, due to the hat and top coat it wore, I could gain no clue as to the nature of my uninvited visitor.
"I wouldn't waste our time calling the police, my friend." the shadow figure said in a soft voice. "They will be useless in the work that lies ahead of us."
submitted by: mars4554@yahoo.com
"Who the hell are you and What are doing in my apartment?" I asked the dark figure.
"My name is trival in this matter. You need to listen to me and listen well, Kane Makenzie."
The dark figure moved his hand swiftly to his inside coat pocket.Realizing I still had my gun, I drew it up as I confidently put my hand on the trigger aiming it directly at the stranger.
"Ahh.. Uhh.. Don't even think about pulling your piece. How do you know my name? Where I live? How did you know I was calling the police?" Although my instincts told me I was in no danger, the insight shown by this shadowy figure was giving me the creeps.
"Easy there, laddie. I just want a smoke. I'm no threat to you. Put the gun down." His heavy english accent was my only indication of who he might be. He calmly pulled out a cigerette and matches. As he drew the match across the back of the book, his face lit up. In those few seconds I had seen the face of an old man.
"Just listen laddie, you need to gather a few things you'll be coming with me." The old man smiled at my confused look.
submitted by: catyacat@aol.com| HOME | DOWNLOAD FILE | CHAPTER 2 |
This page was written and designed by Mark Hibshman. Adapted and re-posted by The D.