The Crooked Man (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 3

I woke to the sound of buzzing laughs and unintelligible talking echoing through the small apartment building. It hurt my ears, static still ringing in my head after last night. I was probably still sensitive to it.

What...? Why...Where's that coming from? It sounds like it's coming...from inside the apartment.

I slowly swung my legs out from the thin bed sheets, pushing myself into a wobbly stand with the iron headboard as a support. The cool, thin air brushed down my bare back, and I shivered involuntarily. And it wasn't entirely from the cold. After pulling a sweatshirt on, I shuffled across the wood floor, following the increasing sound of static.

It was loud, but muffled at the same time. I pushed open the door to the office, and walked over to the closet, where the source of the sound seemed to be. I pulled open the door, wincing at the squeaky hinges. Then again, it would be hard for a neighbor to wake up at the quiet sound of a door opening and not blaring news reports, interrupted every few seconds by static.

Inside the empty closet was a medium-sized, handheld radio, the dial turned up halfway, the needle flicking rapidly between stations. So that's where the noise was coming from...figures. But still, how did it turn on by itself? And who's radio is this, anyway? The former tenant's? I picked up the radio, switching off the sound, and setting the needle all the way back. As I was about to set it on the desk, I noticed a small square of paper where the radio had been sitting just before.

I set the radio down slowly, and reached to pick up the paper....Hm? There's something here... It looked like an address. Just above the printed street name, three hand-written words topped the paper, curling in an elaborate font. "Our Special Place...? I wonder what that means." I shoved the paper into the back pocket of my sweatpants, heading out into the entry hallway. I pulled open the door to the living room, and felt myself freeze, my arms stiff at my sides, my legs locked in place, terror flooding through me.

I'm WaItIn' FoR yOu

It was scrawled across the wall, in a deep red, that seemed to drip and run slowly down the ancient, torn wallpaper. I felt my legs slowly, stiffly moving back, though I was screaming at myself to run. My eyes flickered over the message, and the feeling that I was being watched filled my brain. I could barely comprehend what was happening. "W...Wh..." My voice was raspy, and my throat felt sticky and burned. "I-I'm...Wait-tin' for y-you...What?!" I staggered backwards, feeling rapidly for the doorknob. "Wh-When...How...Wh...?" I felt my sweaty hand wrap around the metal doorknob in a death grip. "WHHHHHAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!" I flung the door open, escaping out of the building.

~

Paul and I were sitting at his dining room table in silence, me listening intently to the faint sound of a ticking clock in the next room, trying to keep myself from shaking. Paul staring at me intently, carefully. He knew something was obviously very wrong. I never freaked out. I wasn't really that kind of guy. But this? The writing had snapped something in me. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. I looked up at him, reluctant to speak. My throat hurt, my eyes had dark circles from my complete lack of sleep last night, and I just wanted to get as far away from the apartment as I could. Paul spoke first.

"...So...You sleep well last night? Sorry you had to sleep on the couch..." I tried to smile, but it hurt too much, so I just shrugged.

"Nah, I should be sorry for coming over so late." My throat killed me, and I could swear I tasted blood as I coughed into my fist.

"Hah! Wasn't expecting it, but don't sweat it." He seemed to look more closely at me, his eyes full of concern. Or at least, Paul's idea of concern. "But hey, did something happen? You don't look too hot." Flashes of the writing ripped through my mind again, tearing open the barely healed over wounds. I stiffened up, my mind and body locking in panic. "David? What's the matter?" I could hear Paul talking to me, but the words didn't register for a few seconds. Suddenly, my body loosened back, and I felt myself sag into the back of the chair. Paul had started to stand up from the table, his face voicing obvious concern. "David? Are you alright? What happened?"