The Sixth Sense but it's Karlnap

A.Frost

Sapnap was sat in his office once again, well, the basement really. The smell of damp and rot from the moulding cardboard boxes was overpowering today. Perhaps it was the torrential rain that cascaded outside, or maybe it was just his mind, scarred and beaten by his own thoughts; but life felt slower and more distant lately, like they were running one lane apart instead of together.

The mush in his head had failed to make sense the past few days, thoughts forgotten as they were thought, words lost as they were said. Those few days were spent apart from his patient and he'd had plenty time to mull over his words.

"I see dead people." The only thought he could make even an ounce of sense of, flipping it over in his mind, trying to decipher what they meant in scientific terms was all he seemed to do down in the basement. Now all the thinking seemed to be getting the better of him and he couldn't think about even those words anymore.

He stood wearily, his chair legs scraping across the stone floor as he rested his hands on the wood desk, leaning forward with a sigh. He'd managed to knock one of the dank boxes over with the chair, it's contents cluttering to the ground with a series of bangs, old files and tapes strewn around it. He would've simply discarded the rotting cardboard, if it weren't, however, for the messily penned on name that the box belonged to. Despite the bleeding ink and stressed surface, he could just make out the letters even through his tired eyes. A. Frost, it somewhat read, the name sparking something into Sapnap's head, suddenly giving him more curious motivation that ever. He stepped over the clutter, picking up a discoloured document with the name Anthony Frost scribbled at the top. It was dated 1996, Sapnap's first year dealing with patients himself. He was 16 then. The youngest he could've been to work part time, and Anthony was 12, it seemed. Reading further down the document, he deduced it to be a summary of who the boy was; it contained his address, parents number, legal names, school grades - everything and more that Sapnap might need.

Parental status : Divorced

acute anxiety

socially isolated

possible mood disorder

He recognised so much of the document, raking his brain for the connection but nothing came. Of course, he remembered Anthony, three years was merely a dent in time, and the first time he met the boy felt like just last week; he was a kind boy and smiled often, but he refused to talk to Sapnap for at least a month, the first words he spoke being "go away."

He liked to be called Ant, he'd said Anthony was too 'old man'. He liked to draw also, many of his pictures had ended up in Sapnap's hands, they were all stuffed in the same box as his tapes and files, but the cheap ink had bled into discoloured patters over the years and Sapnap'd be lucky to find even a sunset in there.

He reached for one of the tapes, its cold plastic bore teeth marks from mice gnawing at it before realising its distaste, the sticky label on the front had half peeled off and the date was illegible, all the information left was simply the boy's surname.

Standing again, Sapnap hastily pulled open one of the filing cabinet drawers, sifting through its contents curiously. He picked out a few things from the drawer, a set of pencils, a brand new stack of sticky notes and even a used paintbrush with dry paint crusted between its bristles; he tossed them all to the floor with little thought, beginning to uncover his cassette player buried beneath all the other old crap.

With a firm hold he pulled it out, setting it carefully on his flimsy wooden desk. For a moment he struggled to get the tape in, slightly unfamiliar with the device as he hadn't used it for so long, but he finally managed, snapping the lid shut quickly. He sat down, drawing in a hesitant breath as his finger hovered over the play switch, some part of him scared to hear the little boy's voice again.

There was a lound click and the sound of plastic turning, a low, fuzzy hum filled the room before the sound became clear. Through the low quality speakers, he heard the distant sound of the boy's laughter, a sick feeling growing in his stomach as his sweet voice told Sapnap a joke, laughing between his words with excitement.

"What's oran- orange and, and sounds like a parrot" He giggled, presumably watching Sapnap's smile as he listened to the boy's antics.

"I dont know, what is orange and sounds like a parrot?"

"A carrot!" Ant started laughing again, the crackling noise from the player painting a small smile across Sapnap's lips as he listened to his younger self play along, forcing a few laughs to make Ant happy.

There was a knock on what he assumed was a wooden door and the laughter stopped, he couldn't here what the knocker said, but it must have been important as chairlegs were scraping and the young Sapanp spoke reassuringly to Ant, "Look, I have to do something real quick, do you mind? I'll be back in a minute."

The words were followed by a small 'okay' and the door shut again. Ant was alone, apparently. But over the low fuzz, there was something that he could only describe as incoherent; it wasn't Ant, he was sure of that, the noises were far too deep for a 12 year old boy, but they weren't just the damp getting to the tape either. It was only a minute or so before Sapnap came back in.

"Sorry about that." He said, the door clicking shut, "It's cold in here isn't it?" There was a pause in speech, but the low fuzz stayed persistent, "Ant? Why are you crying?"

And thats were the tape ended. A loud click followed and the lid on the player popped up. But Sapnap wasn't finishing his work there, just because the tape stopped didn't mean his mind did; he pushed the lid back and pressed play, his fingers twisting the sound dial up from 4 to 6. The fuzz was louder but so were the voices, Ant's laughter once agin filled the room and the fuzzing silence continued as Sapnap left the room. He listened attentively, picking up what seemed like murmurs but barely anything decipherable. He then pushed the dial further and further up, his finger resting on it as a red number 10 revealed itself.

"It's cold in here isn't it. Ant? Why are you crying?"

With a swift motion, he held another switch, a long fuzz sounding before a clicking door came through the speakers.

"Look, I have to do something real quick, do you mind? I'll be back in a minute."

"Okay."

Sapnap leaned closer to the player, trying what he could to better hear what was going on in the background. He started hearing words, not many, but enough. They were frantic, desperate even and they were broken; perhaps even cries and they made Sapnap shift in his seat. The language was foreign and he couldn't understand a thing, but he wrote them down anyway, wanting to make sense of them soon.

'No quiero morir' was what he wrote, there were other sounds and words but none as clear as those. Those were the most pained, the most desparate, and the sound of Ant's tears came right after them.

Sapnap paused the tape and sat back, his breathing heavy and forehead hot. He held together his sweating, shaking hands, taking in a deep breath as he gathered himself.

Suddenly it clicked in his brain: Ant was just like Karl, in more ways than on paper it would seem. Young Sapnap had said the room was cold, Ant was crying. He remembered those times he'd visited Karl in his room, how icy the air seemed as he was curled under the covers, his eyes red from tears. Perhaps there was some truth in his words.

I see dead people.

The phrase rung through his head, Karl's broken, chocked whisper felt like pins to his brain as he replayed his words again, and again, and again. The words pricked tears into his eyes; hot, salty, stinging tears that trickled down his face, he tried to wipe them away, his coarse backhand scratching at his eyes. It hurt. But it felt good. A relief from his mental torment for just a moment. And just for a moment, he experienced the pain Ant must have gone through every day.

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hiya guys. im a bit tired so might not have turned out the best I could've 🦕

also im thinking of rewriting some of pointless futality cuz it actually brings me PAIN to think of how bad it was, what do u guys think 🤓

anyway 🧍