by Lukens, Mark
They reached the back door and Joel fumbled with the twist lock on the door handle. Kelly looked back and her body seemed to nearly fold in on itself, like all of her bones had suddenly disappeared.
“Hurry,” she whispered. “He’s … he’s coming …”
Joel unlocked the door and he grabbed Kelly. They rushed out onto the set of three steps that led down into the darkness outside.
But the steps were gone.
They fell out of the doorway and landed down on the ground where every sharp instrument from the house had been planted, blades up. The blades stabbed through them as they landed, pinning them to the ground.
The man in the black clothing and hood stood in the doorway of the house, staring down at Joel and Kelly pinned to the ground. They were still alive, groaning and writhing, trying to move, but there were too many knives and steel rods holding them in place on the ground.
Daniel pulled his hood back away from his face and smiled. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.
“Yeah, they’re all ready for you guys,” he told his friend on the phone. “Come and get them.”
JUNE
THE CLOSET MONSTER
Because Father’s Day is in June, I included a story here about a father who begins to remember pieces of his past when a monster in his closet becomes more and more real. But can he piece together his memories in time to save his son?
Something woke Ed up in the middle of the night … some kind of noise.
He lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling as he listened, trying to pick up any noises in the house. Maybe his son, Jimmy, had woken up from another bad dream and cried out in the night, too afraid to get out of bed.
Maybe he should go check on him.
But for some reason, a reason his still somewhat sleep-fogged brain couldn’t explain, he was sure that whatever had woken him up wasn’t his son. Ed had always been a light sleeper and the instant his son had cried out in the night through the years, he’d been up and into his room in a flash. His wife, however, slept a little heavier. She slept through their son’s frantic cries, through alarms, earthquakes, nuclear wars.
No, he was sure the noise that woke him up wasn’t Jimmy. It hadn’t come from his son’s room at all.
This noise was closer.
This soft, sneaky noise had come from inside his bedroom. He was sure of that. But as he lay there, he didn’t hear the noise again. Not yet.
Ed turned and looked at the red digital numbers on the alarm clock that seemed to float in the darkness. Three thirty in the morning. Ed looked around the dark bedroom, making out murky shapes among the shadows. He saw the pictures hanging on the white walls. He saw the clump of blankets down at the end of their bed. He saw a chair near the closet with clothes slumped over it, and if he stared at it long enough it looked like someone very thin and very still sitting in the chair. And he saw the closet directly across from the foot of their bed.
The closet door was wide open.
Ed looked at his wife’s sleeping form huddled next to him. He listened for a moment to her soft, deep breathing. He brushed her shoulder with his hand but she didn’t even stir.
His eyes darted back to the closet. Did something just move in there? No, it was just his imagination. The shadows and his sleepy eyes were working together to play tricks on him.
Why was the closet door open?
Ed always remembered to shut the closet door before going to bed. Maybe Brenda had opened it before going to bed, but he didn’t think so.
He stared at the yawning black mouth of the closet. He could make out the lines of clothes hanging on both sides of the walk-in closet underneath shelves loaded down with boxes, bags, and other odds and ends. At the far end of the closet was a laundry basket full of shoes (mostly Brenda’s), but he couldn’t see that far into the dark from his bed.
The longer he stared into the closet, the more his eyes tried to play tricks on him. It looked like things were moving around inside the closet … slight movements … sly movements.
Ed snapped his eyes away.
There was nothing moving around in there. He was just seeing movement because he was staring at the dark too long. It probably happened to everyone. He needed to get up, shut the closet door, and then go back to sleep.
A noise drew his eyes back to the closet door again. It was a soft bump, like thick clothing rustling up against each other.
Ed stared at the deeper darkness inside the closet, watching for those sly and subtle movements again. He braced himself, his body tense, his heartbeat quickening, as he waited for something to come out of the closet.
God, where had that thought come from?
Nothing was going to come out of the closet. What was wrong with him?
He rolled over and draped his arm over his wife’s shoulders, feeling a little better just from the contact. He had draped his arm over her a little too heavily in a subconscious effort to wake her. She stirred slightly, groaned, and then she was breathing deeply again.
He had to get back to sleep.
But his mind slipped back to memories of his childhood, memories of fearing the monster in the closet. He hadn’t thought about that in years. He could barely remember it, but he had been certain at that age that there was a real monster in his closet. But he couldn’t remember much else about it. The memories were just under the surface of his foggy memory somewhere, trying to surface …
… a monster in the closet …
… Eddie screaming for his father …
• • •
Ed jumped awake and slapped at the button on the alarm clock. He stared at the clock for a moment, then sat up and looked at his wife who seemed like she hadn’t moved a muscle all night. He set the alarm for an hour later so she could get up and get Jimmy ready for school.
He sat on the edge of the bed feeling tired. The morning’s false dawn lit the room a little, giving everything a deep blue underwater look.
He felt terrible, like he’d barely slept last night.
The closet door was nearly shut, only a crack of darkness around the door. Ed stared at the door. It hadn’t been closed last night. He remembered staring at the open door in the middle of the night. He remembered seeing something inside the closet that looked like it was moving.
Had he gotten up and closed the closet door in the middle of the night? He couldn’t remember doing it. He didn’t think so. Maybe Brenda had gotten up to pee and closed the door. But that seemed even more unlikely. Brenda usually left the door open anyway, why would she start closing it now? And she hardly ever got up in the middle of the night.
Ed tried to push the thought of the closet out of his mind as he went to the bathroom to take a shower.
After his shower, he came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He turned on the light to the closet and opened the door. The closet was just like it was before, a line of clothes on both sides that ran deep into the walk-in closet. Boxes and other crap were piled up on the shelves. There was too much weight on these shelves and they would probably collapse soon. Ed grabbed a white, button-down shirt and dark blue pants that Brenda had ironed before hanging up. He selected a tie from a plastic wheel fastened to the back of the door.
On his way to the kitchen, Ed peeked into Jimmy’s room. Jimmy was huddled under the covers, just his head poking out among the pillows and his two favorite stuffed animals.
Ed looked at Jimmy’s closet. The door was slightly ajar, just like it was in their bedroom. He stared at the closet door for a moment like it meant something, but he was too tired right now to pursue it.
In the kitchen, Ed started the coffee machine. He went outside to get the newspaper and the morning air was already hot. It was going to be a scorcher today. He went back to the kitchen and scanned the paper as he stuck two bagels into the toaster. He smothered them with cream cheese after they popped up and he downed a cup of coffee with them. He wanted two more bagels but decided against it.
�
� • •
At work, Ed’s memories of a childhood fear of the monster in the closet kept trying to surface. As he worked on reports at his cubicle, the memories would creep into his mind, yet they were still blurry and disjointed.
But something seemed important about the memories; it was like he needed to remember something soon. He could see himself at seven or eight years old, about Jimmy’s age, cringing against the headboard with his covers bunched up in front of him like they were some kind of defensive wall. He stared at the closet, the door wide open. He screamed for his father. He was afraid to stare at the black mouth of his closet, yet he was more afraid to look away, sure that the moment he wasn’t looking, the monster would climb out quickly on giant spider legs and race—
A hand fell on his shoulder.
“Ed?”
He jumped, whirling around, scattering the papers in front of him. He looked up into Rhonda’s heavily made-up face. She jumped back a little from his reaction.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said with a small, tight-lipped smile that seemed to mean that she had enjoyed it little.
“You didn’t startle me,” Ed said, then realized how dumb it sounded.
Rhonda talked with Ed about the reports they were working on, but he could barely keep his focus. His mind kept wanting to slip back to that night when he was in his bedroom calling for his father because he was sure something was lurking in his closet.
• • •
“Daddy! Help! There’s a monster in my closet!!”
Ed jumped awake from the dream. The back of his neck was wet with perspiration. A few droplets of cold sweat trickled down his backbone as he sat up quickly in bed.
He’d been dreaming about that night, about what had happened. Something had been in his closet that night, it had been about to step out into his bedroom. And then …
He was already beginning to forget the dream now; it was breaking up into fragments, lost for good no matter how much he tried to grab them back.
The closet door was wide open again.
He stared at the door in disbelief. He had made sure that he closed it tonight before going to bed. Inside the darkness of the closet there were things moving around. He was sure of it. It couldn’t be a trick. The clothes seemed to be moving, like ghosts had slipped inside them and animated them. He heard soft thumps and what sounded like the buckle of a belt clinking. He heard the sound of patent leather shoes rubbing together, making a slight squeaking sound.
His mind reeled as he looked at Brenda. He touched her gently to make sure she was really there and that this wasn’t a dream.
Ed lay back down and rolled over on his side, close to his wife, nearly spooning with her. He brought the covers up to his chin even though it wasn’t cold in their room, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He whispered a mantra in his mind.
This can’t be real.
This can’t be real.
This can’t be real.
• • •
The next morning Ed was jarred awake by the buzzing alarm clock. He shut it off and sat up, his heart pumping. He looked at the closet and the door was nearly closed.
Ed got up and reset the clock for Brenda. The resetting of the clock seemed like such a normal thing that it gave him a little courage to approach the closet. He stood in front of it. He touched the door handle—the metal was cool to the touch. He listened for a moment, but the bedroom was silent.
He took his morning shower and came back to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He flipped on the closet light and opened the door. He went to reach for one of his button-down shirts—but it wasn’t in the same place as before. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the closet.
Nothing was where it had been before. A lot of the clothes were rearranged. The laundry basket of shoes was tipped over, shoes spilled out on the carpet. The boxes and stacks of papers on the shelves had been disturbed. His heart thudded as he searched through many sloppily-hung clothes until he found a dress shirt, a pair of slacks, and a tie. He didn’t enter the closet fully, keeping his feet outside as he stretched his arms inside. He had a childish fear that if he went all the way inside the closet, the door was going to slam shut and trap him inside.
He left the bedroom, glad to be away from the closet. Tonight he would lay his work clothes out on the chair so he wouldn’t even have to go into the closet. He thought about calling Brenda during the day and let her know about the closet, but he decided to see if she noticed it on her own.
On his way to the kitchen, he checked in on Jimmy. And again he noticed that Jimmy’s closet door was ajar. Just like his.
He made coffee and bagels as he wondered if the clothes in their closet had really been rearranged. Maybe Brenda had been in the process of straightening up the closet and reorganizing it. But it didn’t look neat or organized. But maybe she had just started on it and got distracted. Maybe he should ask her about it.
But then again, maybe not.
As he drove to work in his small but newer car, he noticed a subtle odor from his shirt. He sniffed at his sleeve and it was a little stronger. He couldn’t put his finger on the smell; it was almost like a chemical smell, maybe like mothballs.
• • •
Brenda glanced out the kitchen window at the bright afternoon world. Jimmy’s school bus was running a little late. Not very late, just a little. But she couldn’t help worrying. Maybe she should go outside and wait by the road.
A soft noise from one of the bedrooms made her jump.
She turned and listened for a moment. She walked through the living room to the hall that led to the two bedrooms. The house was small. It was the first house they had ever bought. It was supposed to be a starter home, and they had planned to upgrade when they had more kids. But they never had any more kids and they had just lived in this house as year after year went by.
Brenda investigated both bedrooms, but she couldn’t find what had made the noise. Maybe something had fallen over inside Jimmy’s closet. She was about to open the door and check, but then she heard the familiar sound of the school bus outside, the sigh of air brakes, the chugging of the diesel engine.
She hurried outside and met Jimmy as he ran from the road up to their front porch. The school bus chugged away with a convoy of cars behind it.
“How was your day?” Brenda asked Jimmy as he set his lunch box down on the kitchen counter.
“Fine. Can I have some milk and cookies?”
“I suppose. But not too many. It’ll be dinner time soon.”
She couldn’t resist anything Jimmy asked for. He never asked for much. He was such a good kid.
Brenda put two chocolate chip cookies on a plate and poured a glass of milk for him. At least the cookies made him drink milk, and milk was good for him. Jimmy was a little small for his age; maybe the milk would help him grow.
“I think there’s something in my closet,” Jimmy said in a conversational tone after he finished his first cookie.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I keep seeing something in my closet at night.”
“Well, what do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. A monster, probably.” He said it matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world to have a monster in his closet.
“Have you seen it?” she asked.
“No. It’s too dark in there at night.”
“The closet door is open? Why don’t you shut it before you go to bed and then you won’t see it?”
“I do shut the door, but it opens by itself.”
Brenda sighed. She didn’t like where this conversation was going. “Do you want me to go and check it out?”
“Nah. It only comes out at night.”
“Well, if you see it again, just turn the other way and it won’t hurt you. Monsters aren’t real. You know that.”
Jimmy was silent for a long moment as he finished his second cookie. He drank the rest of his milk down and wiped at his mouth. He look
ed at his mother like he’d come to a decision.
“If it comes out of the closet,” he told Brenda, “I’m going to yell for you and Daddy. So far it hasn’t come out of the closet. It just sits in there and …” he paused for a moment like he was trying to think of the right word, “…spins.”
“Jimmy, I just told you there aren’t any such things as monsters.” Her words had come out a little harsher than she had intended.
“Yeah, I know,” Jimmy said in a low voice. He seemed a little upset now.
Brenda hugged him. “Don’t worry about it. We won’t let any monsters get you. You can call us if you see anything.”
He brightened a little at that and his smile warmed her heart.
• • •
Ed didn’t have a good day at work. He couldn’t concentrate on his reports as the memories of that night so long ago kept trying to invade his mind. Yet he still wasn’t much closer to remembering anything that had happened that night. It seemed like he could see a few pieces of the puzzle, but they were scrambled and many of the pieces were missing. And he couldn’t help feeling like he needed to put this puzzle together soon before something bad happened.
As he pulled into the driveway of their home, he did his best to try and shrug off his bad day. He didn’t want Brenda and Jimmy worrying about him.
“Daddy!” Jimmy yelled as Ed walked into the house. He set his briefcase down and Jimmy ran to him and Ed caught him, lifted him up into their air, and then hugged him.
“Your shirt smells funny,” Jimmy said.
“Jimmy,” Brenda said, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “That’s not polite.”
Ed set Jimmy back down on the floor and he smiled at him. “It’s probably just a little sweaty. It’s like an oven outside.”
“Your shirt smells like a closet,” Jimmy said.
Ed’s smile slipped a little. That was a strange word for his son to use, a strange way to describe the smell of his shirt.
Brenda changed the subject quickly to one of Ed’s favorite: food. “I made some homemade pizza bread for dinner.”
“And I helped her,” Jimmy said, beaming.
