The Sowachowski Murders

The Truth Comes Out

Sock was being annoying again. Then again, this was Sock.

It was part of his job.

"Hell isn't that bad, Jonathan, if you ignore the network executives—"

Jonathan interrupted the demon, "Sock?"

"Yes?" Sock answered, floating over. He sat on Jonathan's homework-filled desk and pulled a face, sticking his tongue out. Like the rest of Jonathan's room, it was a mess. Papers were strewn everywhere and anywhere, dirty laundry heaped in festering piles around the room. In addition to this, a knee-high stack of grimy plates wobbled precariously by his bedside, fortunately without the presence of mould, which he had eradicated before his mother could scream at him.

Ignoring the state of his room, Jonathan glared at Sock. "Shut up."

"Excuse me? I have a job to do, and that is to pester, torment and—"

"Be a general nuisance blah blah blah: I know. Now will you leave me alone so I can—"

"Kill yourself?" Sock gave him an innocent smile.

Jonathan looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "Very funny. No."

Seeing that Sock was about to start talking again, Jonathan hurriedly turned the radio on. "And now to the national news," the voice crackled. "Three bodies, possibly linked to the Sowachowski disappearance, have been discovered."

Sock froze. His green eyes widened as he paled, clutching his hands to his mouth. Stiff, the demon floated to the back of the room.

"Sock?" Jonathan asked. At his words, the demon spun round, a forced smile on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Wh-what's wrong? Nothing's wrong, Jonathan. Why would you think something's wrong?" The demon giggled nervously.

"Sock..." he warned.

In the background, the radio continued its commentary. "Last year, the family and their fifteen year old son mysteriously disappeared. The bodies were discovered buried next to each other, although detectives note that the bodies of the presumed to be parents were buried neatly together, whereas the fifteen year old looks as though he collapsed into the grave."

Jonathan carefully approached the demon. "Did you know them, Sock?"

Sock refused to answer, still giving him that nervous, twitchy grin.

"What's your actual name?"

"It's Sock."

"I don't believe you. Why are you so touchy about the Sowachowski case?" He had a sudden revelation. "Did you murder them?"

"What?"

"What's your actual name?"

Sock sighed, suddenly seeming weary and old. Looking up at Jonathan, he asked, "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

Taken aback, Jonathan gulped. "Ok."

Sock drifted towards Jonathan before sitting on the bed. "My name is, don't laugh, Napoleon Maxwell Sowachowski. I murdered my parents in my sleep before committing suicide. I really miss them. Now, I'm here, haunting you."

Jonathan was stunned into silence. "Sock, I'm sor—"

"I don't care. Leave me alone."

Sock lit up in an eerie green light and disappeared.

"Sock," Jonathan cried, reaching out. "Sock..."

Sock hadn't always been annoying. Once, he had been a son. Once he had a family.

Then he slipped up.

Now he has no-one.

Except for Jonathan.