The Unknown

Part 5

When people knew I was asking about Stephen Miller, I couldn't escape the caution and accusation looks they gave me. I felt there was a huge stigma drawn on my forehead, because of what people believed my grandfather did, and which I myself didn't have the intellectual ability to accept.

I found a hotel thirty minutes away from midtown, where I decided to spend my following nights. It wasn't hard to find a spot in front of the main gate to park in. I got off my car to reach the hotel's lobby. The receptionist disagreed with my plans when he saw my identification card, which holds the name Miller in pride. He threatened me to leave the place and find somewhere else to stay. Every time I saw people's reactions to the name, the closer it got me to believe that ironic tale. I couldn't blame the man for his threat, he wasn't faking it, and the name seemed to fright him till his last breath. I reversed my steps back to the car, where I believed I will be sleeping tonight. Stretching my chair, I reached out to the blanket placed below the back seat. I opened the windows, took my position to sleep, and closed my eyes getting ready for another confusing day.

The sky was gloomily grey. Thunder and rain sound covered up the area. I found a candle holder in my hand from which I didn't know where it came from. Due to the dark place illuminated only by the moonlight and lightning, it was an impossible thing to determine where I was. Owl hoots and wolf howls usually take place in such situations, but it seemed that nature's sound was overwhelming. The candle managed to help me see a few yards ahead of me. A wooden door inside a vast garden wasn't far from me. It felt like there weren't other possible options for me to consider. I twisted the rusty door handle slowly before I pushed it. The door squeaked like it hasn't been opened for decades, but it opened smoothly. I stepped inside to find a long hall with candles on both sides, lighting up the entire place. I took slow steps until I reached an open door at the end of the hall. The room was dark, barely kissed by the moonlight. A rocking chair was in the center of the room turned away from me that I didn't catch sight of whoever sat there. There was someone anyway, and he seemed to be waiting for me.

"Cody? What are you doing here?" a male voice said, which wasn't in the least unfamiliar to me. I paid all my senses attention to where the sound came from."You know you aren't supposed to step in here. I told you that, but you are just curious enough not to listen, aren't you?" doubt wasn't an option anymore after this sentence. I am inside house 32 and I am standing a couple steps away from my grandfather.I was stunned, not because it was Stephen Miller- I couldn't bear to say that this man is my family hold anymore, but that the chair started twisting by itself slowly. I don't remember I have ever been that petrified before, hopeless in front of my worst nightmares. The chair kept twisting until it faced me with Stephen Miller on it. He picked himself up from the chair slowly. With fixed eyes on me, he picked an axe from under the chair and rushed towards me. I screamed with all power I had, a throaty scream that was enough to wake me up, from my nightmare. 

I flounced from my car seat where I slept, shivering like a leaf. I caught me breathes to collect myself together. A wave of relief surrounded me when I realized where I was and what I was doing here. I reached the water bottle on the seat next to mine to drink. I glanced at the hotel gate to see five uniformed men standing outside it, observing every corner of the street trying to find something, or waiting for something. I took the blanket off my body to throw it on the back seat. I glanced something weird when I did it. Something wasn't right, wasn't in its place. I twisted my body to have a better vision. There was something under this blanket I just threw, some object that conquered the whole seat. In shaking hands, I took it off slowly. I jumped from my chair trying to reach my door's handle. Not less than I paranoid individual, I left my car and started running in the street, chased by fear itself. A police officer stopped my rush, trying to understand the reason for my action. I can't really tell you what I told him, or what I did. I was shocked enough not to make a single memory of the situation. I kept pointing at my car down the road from which I came. He led me to where it was parked to give it a glance. He approached the back window to see what's inside through it. Once he did he shivered, and in a spontaneous manner he took out the pistol from his belt.

"I need an ambulance here in Delph Way Street right away," he said in his radioA maimed corpse laid on my car back seat, with fresh blood, of course, it was fresh, I only slept for five hours. How did that come here? I had no idea.What struck me the most was that the dead body was clothed in the hotel's uniform and from the hair color and skull structure I could tell that it was the receptionist I was talking to last night. It wasn't a few minutes until I heard the ambulance's siren getting louder in the whole street. The whole scene was predictable. The medics rushed to carry the body into the car when the officer was taking information from me, and about me. He insisted to take me with him to the station to answer more questions, and I wasn't in the proper condition to refuse.