Hidden Darkness

Chapter 1

Chicago is in quite the trouble these days, where a lot of stuff out of the norm happen. My family and I were watching the news Saturday morning; well I was on my way out, but I stopped to watch before I left. My father, Arthur Emsly, my Mother, Janet Emsly, my twelve year-old sister, Carrie Emsly, and then there's sixteen year-old me, Matthew Emsly. The news were transitioning between three crime scenes, all involving the murder of three different men.
They all had the same wounds: nasty gashes, broken bones, large holes through their body, and to top all that off, mutilated genitals, which sent a shiver down my spine. My dad, who is a cop, had an annoyed expression on his face. He had today off, but he wanted to go help find the psycho who's committing these murders. My mother reassured him by holding his hand, and that seemed to calm him down a little.
Walking out the door, I say, "alright, I'm heading out. See you guys later tonight," shaking off the chill. "Be back before seven, got it?" says my dad looking at me briefly. "Yes, Sir," I answer back. I step out of our house and start walking. It's a long walk to my friend's house, but it's good exercise.
It took maybe less than half an hour to get there. My friend, Bobby, knows me pretty well, so does his parents, so I let myself in. "Yo, B-dubs! Where ya at?" I occasionally call Bobby B-dubs because of his last name, Winslow.
"In here, Matt," Bobby called from his room. I made my way there and saw him watching the same news my folks were watching. "You watching that too?"
"Yeah. It's crazy, man. People getting mutilated like that it's...it's pretty messed up. And he's got to be white." I laugh at the sudden switch in the subject. "What makes you say that he's white? Or is indeed a he?" I ask. "You really expect this guy to be black? It's common knowledge white people are messed up in the head and become serial killers. Dahmer, Bundy, Manson, all of them were white."
"Alright fine, us crackers tend to go crackers," I say, laughing at the terrible pun. "But I didn't mean black people. I meant any one of the minorities. Anyone can be a serial killer. Yes, white people especially, but still." Bobby nodded and went back to watching the news. Bobby was especially interested in murder crimes and mysteries. He liked figuring out about the perp and solving who he might be through statistics.
"So, any idea on who this person is and why he's doing these murders yet?" He kept his stare at the TV and then turned to me. "Due to how vicious and gruesome the murders were, it's definitely because of an extreme hatred. The strange large puncture wounds seem to emphasize his anger, and the mutilation of their man-bits is more towards them being a guy. So for all we know, it could be a woman. Women tend to aim for the gems when they attack men. I don't know who, though. But I know he or she is definitely white."
"A bit racist, dontcha think?"
"Nope. Just referring to statistics. Also, the victims don't have anything similar with each other. Minus the fact that they were mostly all men."
"No similar details? Race? Height? Weight? Habits?" Bobby shook his head in response. "No, which is really strange. Some black, a little hispanic, but mostly white. Various heights, weights, hobbies, et cetera. They're random. And there's not a single finger print at the scene of the crime. None on the victims either. And the weapon he used is unknown. Frankly, I don't know what could have made those gashes, puncture holes and that kind of mutilation." Bobby stared into space. He was thinking pretty hard now.
"Alright, enough about the murders and the smashing of man-bits. let's talk about something else or play a game or something."
"Yeah, alright." We spent the rest of the day just watching TV and eating spare snacks found in the fridge. We did what we usually do, which is crack jokes, play games, watch TV, and eat. Then I realized what time it was and I had to jet. "Hey, you should keep a journal about these murders. list them all down instead of storing them in that forgetful brain of yours," I say walking to the front door and putting on my jacket. "Probably. It would be easier. And it could make me a better cop one day."
"Yep. Alright, dude, see ya monday."
"See ya, Matt." Bobby went back to his room as I left the house. I was surprised to find that it was snowing and that there was a good half inch on the ground. "Great." The usual route I take to get home crosses a bunch of streets.
In the winter, if it snows, some of those roads get really slippery and it becomes hard to cross or an accident happens. At least I had an excuse for being late. I walked the sidewalk until I reached the first road that crossed my route. Very little cars and no accidents. Good.
I kept walking for the next twenty five to twenty seven minutes crossing the other roads until I get to the last one. Which, of course, is the only one with an accident. Two cars seemed to have slipped and collided into each other. The blue and red lights from the police cruisers and the red and white of the paramedics lit up the entire block. I had to go the long way.
I walked down the block and crossed some more streets and was about to turn onto the sidewalk that led to my house, the one I would have been on already if it weren't for the accident, when I heard a strange gagging noise. It was coming from the alleyway ahead of me. I looked around me to see if there was anyone else hearing it but there wasn't anyone, save two people across the street who were about to turn onto the block behind me. I walked towards the entrance and peeked over the corner. It was really dark so I walked forward a bit more, holding onto the corner of the building with my left hand and trying to get a better look.
In the darkness I spot a figure standing there and moving every so often like a twitch or something. It was looking up at something and when my eyes started to follow his gaze, I noticed something protruding from his back. I thought he was penetrated by something but only figured out he wasn't the moment I yelled out, "Hey, you okay, man?" The figure looked towards me and my breath just stopped and a chill ran up my spine. All I could see of his face was two bright, white dots.
I looked back at the object jutting from his back, which by now I realized there were actually four, and followed wherever it led. They were long and were moving more and more at the end. And at that end was something horrible. At the end was a man, slashed and bloody all over. His face bore true terror and pain of the likes I've never seen.
I realized that they weren't objects but four monstrous, black, tendrils originating from the back of the figure. The tendril ends took alternating forms of sharp claws and blades as they sliced and cut through him while his blood fell like a waterfall to the snow. As the three did the job, the fourth wrapped around his head over his mouth, keeping him quiet. One of the tendrils that were cutting at him stopped its gruesome attack and starts heading towards me. I can't remember entirely what happened next, but I had escaped.
I came to after collapsing in front of my yard. I lied there for a while and started to pass out. The last thing I see is my parents rushing out into the cold. I woke up in my room the next morning, groggy and exhausted. I rub my eyes and did my best to remember what happened after I left Bobby's.
I got up and walked into my living room, only to find David, my dad's partner, and another cop talking to my dad. They all turned to look at me as I entered. "Good. You're awake," my dad said. "Son, we need to talk about what happened last night." My mind went right to leaving Bobby's late, I was still trying to recollect what transpired the night before.
"I'm sorry for leaving Bobby's past seven, I wasn't paying attention and-"
"Woah, woah, Matt, calm down, this isn't about that."
"Oh...Then what is this about?" My dad looked at David. David and the other cop took a step forward. "Matt, do you remember anything from last night?" David asked. I shook my head.
"I remember leaving bobby's but that was it, I think. I'm still groggy so my mind is a bit..." At that moment, I remembered what I saw. The figure, the eyes, the tendrils; the blood. "Matt?"
I shake my daze off and start thinking. I can't say I saw a strange, white-eyed thing with black tendrils. They would think I was nuts. "I remember now."
"Okay. Take your time. Tell us what you saw." I thought back to the blood on the snow and the man's face. "All I saw was a lot of blood and I ran. I didn't see much, I'm sorry." David nodded and said, "That's alright, Matt. Anything helps, even the little pieces." The other cop rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath.
In response, David shot him a nasty look and turned back to me. "I think we got what we came for. Matt, if you remember anything else, just tell your old man and he'll relay it to us."
"Okay, David, I will." David nodded and he and the other cop left. It was just me and my dad now. "You alright, Matt? Are you hungry? Do you need anything?" my dad asked. "I wouldn't mind some pancakes."
My dad pats my back. "You got it, kid. Now go get some rest, you've had a long night." I nodded and went back to my bed.

I sat in my bed eating pancakes and watching TV. The news, mainly. They were covering what happened last night and at the location. A female reporter talked about the new attack and then any other leads they found. You can see exactly where I was standing.
Police tape, cop cars, police everywhere with forensic teams. It almost seemed like a dream. Who knows, it might be just a dream. But I know it isn't. The news lady started transitioning into the first and only witness to these murders, which is me.
"...seventeen year-old Matthew Emsly was the first to witness these brutal attacks and escape unhindered. A source leaked to us that he is experiencing memory problems or he hasn't seen much of what happened the previous night. Although, I don't see how anyone would want to remember something like these attacks." Someone had leaked what I had said to the media. If I had to guess, it was probably the one cop David had with him. It doesn't matter though, it wasn't any crucial information. Except for my name, but no address.
The Media was smart for once. I had enough of the news so I turned off the TV and continued to eat my pancakes and think. My mind crossed back to that weird thing I saw last night. The white eyes, the tendrils cutting the guy up. What did I see?
Maybe I can think of something soon. Otherwise, I don't think the cops can get this guy. Then again, what can I do?