Horrible Things

The boy without skin

I drove down the road and hummed to the sweet music of Bon Jovi, their melodious music of the old times blasting through. It was just one of those times where you felt like tapping you feet to the beat and reminisce about the past.

I was going back to my home in Alabama, visiting my folks. I hadn't been there for years and missed the vast lily fields my friends and I used to run cross and pretended to be soldiers on a mission. But I also thought of the strange things that happened in my childhood before I left for the city.

When I was a kid, my mother used to scold me for misplacing my things. Small things belonging to me always seemed to vanish into thin air. Toy soldiers... books....I never found them. I speculated that our maid was the one behind this, for she always seemed skittish when she was cleaning my room and telling me to watch TV in the living room. But my mum did not think she had any reason to steal and so the blame was pushed on me.

There was also unexplainable laughter. The laugh of a young boy in the middle of the night, giggling about a inside joke only he knew. The sound came from somewhere close but I never found out where for I was too afraid and would duck for my covers when it happened. My mother dismissed it as a harmless prank but I knew better. From then on, I always slept with the lights on.

Lastly, there was a undeniable odour that emitted from the wood in my room. It smelled of rotten fish and fresh blood. They tried replacing the floorboards but it never seemed to get rid of the stench. After awhile it became so bad that I moved to the guestroom where the face of my room haunted me in my dreams.

And I always had the same dreams.

I was running but I did not know from who. All I knew was that I had to get away because if I did not something would catch me and force me to...

There was a voice though, whenever I got too tired or when that thing was too close I would always hear it.

It was neither male or female, long or short, fat or thin. It was the screech of an owl, the flow of a creak and the buzzing of a moth.

It always told me to find the light and that it would keep me safe.

It all stopped when I turned 13 and was sent to attend school in New York where my aunt lived. I started sleeping again at night and the grudge I held against my parents for not believing me was lessened slowly through our correspondence through phone calls and letters.

Fast forward 10 years and I was feeling homesick for the first time. I decided to surprise them. Taking a week off from work, I kissed my girlfriend goodbye and started to drive.

Upon arrival, I knocked on the door three times. I could hear the frantic shuffling of feet under the door but nobody opened it. I knocked again, but this time I shouted as well.

"Mum! Dad! Open up it's me Jimmy!"

The shuffling stopped and the door knob creaked open. My mother smiled at me coyly.

"You're finally back!" She cried, hugging me tightly. "Your father will be so happy."

I smiled at her back.

"I missed you too mum."

She pulled me into the house and shut the door.