Cheese Scary Stories

The Men From Away

Sorry for the abrupt endding my english teacher only alows 2 pages in docs sooooooooo... Soooooorrrryyyy!

“It's probably just PTSD,” the doctor said.

“It is not just PTSD,” Capt. Fredric D. Bolieux argued “I keep seeing the ghosts of the men from the field.”

“If you say so, but i’ll send you home with with PTSD meds anyways.”

“Thank you doctor,” Mrs. Charlotte Bolieux told him.

On the way home Mr.Bolieux thought about his time in Afghanistan.  He was a traitor, he’d killed american soldiers for the fun of it, and only he knew. But since returning to my home in North Rustico PEI I’ve been seeing things. Everyone tells me it’s PTSD but they don’t know what i’ve done.

“Honey, are you okay?” my lovely wife Charlotte asked me.

“I’m fine, I'm fine,”I muttered. I knew that she knew that I wasn’t really fine, but she let it drop. The car ride was silent after that, and until we got home. I do love my home but every time I come home I hear whispers promising my death, swearing my name and other curses to my family.

“Are you okay dear?” my wife asked me gently touching my arm “you seem a little jumpy.”

“It’s probably just my PTSD,” I tell her but I tell myself, It’s probably just my paranoia. 

That night I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t relax because I knew that if I fell asleep dreams of that moment and if I watched the dark corners of my room I would see misty faces of the dead. So I sat up in bed with my eyes closed not willing to see the horrors of the night. 

The night was long but I was determined not to sleep and not to open my eyes, but a loud CRASH made my eyes snap open! What was that I wondered scouring the dark room for where and what fell. A cold gust of 

wind blew through my room. Now I was wide awake and there was no chance of me sleeping so I quietly slipped out of my warm bed to investigate.

I silently crept down the hall looking for the source of noise but saw nothing, until I peeked into the study.  

At first glance I saw nothing out of the ordinary but doing à double take I watched the pen basket inch to the edge of the desk and topple to the floor with a bang! As I stood there stunned at what I just witnessed a chilling breeze blew by me carrying a hollow echoing laugh that shook me to the bones .

I quietly and quickly  made my way to the stairs and took them two at a time out of fear and dashed  into the kitchen quickly snapping on the lights. Blinking spots out of my eyes from the sudden glare of lights I made tea to calm myself down. Only once I had a steaming cup of chamomile tea in front of me, I got to work.

When my wife woke up I had breakfast made and most of the kitchen chained to the ground, the counter and velcro on the table.

“Honey are you sure that you’re okay?” she asked when she walked down stairs to see her beautiful kitchen covered in velcro and the cabinets padlocked.

I jumped at the sound of her voice, being alone with my own thoughts for hours.

“Yes yes, I’m fine,” I replied not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

“If you say so,” Charlotte said scepticaly.

I turned around to look at her and invite her to sit down but noticed something strange. My lovely caring wife is now studying me. My confusion lasted a second more then she smiled at me as her usual self.

 I must have a really bad case of paranoia to assume my wife would study me, I thought to myself.

“Sit down dear, I made breakfast for us,” 

The week passed similarly to Monday with me, making ‘improvements’ to the house, hearing voices, thinking my wife is looking at me funny and worst of all I’ve been seeing things more and more often. At first it was only maybe once a day but eventually I was seeing misty figures every hour! 

But all that ended one night when the worst thing happened.

I was sitting up in bed waiting for the sun to come up when I noticed something strange, I was alone in bed. She probably just needed to get a drink or something I thought, no biggie. Until I heard a CRASH echo from down stairs. 

Oh oh. 

I dashed down the stairs to see Charlotte holding a knife, not a butter knife no no, it was one of those long deadly knives used for cutting large meats. 

“Ummm… dear, are you okay?” I asked. As soon as I said it, I knew I had made a big mistake.

She whipped around to look at me and I saw a crazy light in her eyes.

“Now honey,” she said, “if you stay still, it won’t hurt a bit.” Her tone of voice was strangely calm as she approached me, knife in hand.

The next morning, police found the bodies of the Bolieux’s on the kitchen floor, and the echoing sound of harsh laughter filling the air.