The Black Letter

Chapter 6: Shadows Next Door

"How could his name possibly be John Smith too?"

"Damn it!" John tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep.

He pondered who this other John Smith might be and who were the man and woman whose voices he heard today.

One strange event after another had been occurring. What the fuck was going on?

Suddenly, John sat upright. He had made up his mind.

The old lady and Christina were asleep; it was the perfect time for him to explore a bit.

The night was pitch black, making seeing his hand in front of his face nearly impossible.

John pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, casting eerie shadows around him.

The yard wall was low, though it required some effort to climb.

John found some flat stones in the bushes, piled them at the corner of the wall, and carefully stepped up.

The neighbor's house was tranquil, possibly due to the recent death.

John couldn't make out much in the yard using the dim light from his lighter. He snapped the lighter shut, grabbed the top of the wall with both hands and neatly flipped over.

Dusting off his hands, he cracked a satisfied smile. He was always proud of his agility.

Relighting his lighter, he examined his surroundings more closely.

"Ah—" John gasped, his heart nearly leaping to his throat.

How was this possible? He couldn't believe his eyes.

This was his own house!

John looked at the yard wall bordering the old lady's house and then at the house in front of him—his own. He was shocked beyond belief.

John lived alone, valuing his solitude. He kept up with current events and even the ants crawling in his yard, but he had never paid much attention to his neighbors.

Now, he needed to figure out something: how had this John died?

More precisely, when had the other version of him jumped to his death?

He took a few steps forward and lifted his lighter towards the front door: it was firmly shut, and so were all the windows, with some flowers in the right-side flowerbed appearing crushed.

John bent down to inspect closely.

Blood—there were still traces of blood!

John looked up towards the second floor. Could someone have jumped from there?

He circled the yard wall but found nothing. He turned back to the front door and reached out to push it, only to find it locked.

"Damn, I forgot my keys!" John chuckled at the irony of having to break into his own home.

He moved to the third window on the right, knowing the lock was broken there. He tried the window, and sure enough, it opened. He jumped through into his house.

John turned on a floor lamp on the left side of the hall, which gave off a soft glow unlikely to attract attention. He made a full circuit of the first floor; everything was neatly arranged, and clearly, someone had cleaned up.

John approached the computer, remembering he had been using it before he left, but it was now shut down.

He glanced at the bedside clock, its hands pointed exactly at midnight—the clock had stopped.