The Dead Don't Talk (standard:horror, 7999 words)
Author: Grace Hunter	Added: Aug 02 2006	Views/Reads: 2970/2041	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a story about a New York detective, who has visions of her victems deaths. She sees strange apperitions that gide her through the horrors and puzzles that her ex-partner has trouble beliving in. Until now.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

table was obviously; the husband of the deceased. He was hunched over, 
looking down at the table top, his blonde curtained hair hung over his 
shadowed face, his clothes were still covered in blood. 

“Now that Detective Scott has decided to join us, should we proceed!” 

His strong English voice, that was beginning to fade under an American
dialect, growled up to me. I slid into the seat next to Lock, placing 
my cup onto the table, trying to ignore his obnoxious tone. 

“Would you please state your name for us?” 

John began his interview, the man shifted in his seat then pulled his
attention toward both of us. His eyes were a dead grey colour while the 
rest of his face remained within the same shadow that seemed to follow 
his every movement. He looked to John for just a moment then he focused 
upon me, sending a cold chill down my back, like someone had just 
walked over my grave. 

“James Richard Matthews” even his voice was unusual, it seemed strong,
yet only came out as a whisper. 

“Your age” John proceeded scribbling the information down on a statement
sheet 

“32” 

“Could you give me your precise account of what happened earlier
tonight, Mr Mathews?” 

“I stayed back at the office; I have a presentation tomorrow to sell my
design for a new library. I arrived home at half nine. Mary was fine, 
she was sleeping on the couch. I covered her over with a blanket then 
went to bed. I heard a crash and I went to see what the noise was, that 
was when I found Mary.” He went silent bringing up his hands looking at 
them as they trembled uncontrollably. 

“I didn't know what to do, she was just lying there. I slipped in her
blood, I slipped in her blood” he repeated sinking his face into his 
hands. 

“Could I get you something to drink Mr Mathews?” Lock offered, with
James nodding, his face still buried in his palms. John rose from his 
seat rolling his eyes towards, me then quickly went out like I was the 
one who was meant to offer the man a comfort drink. I ignored the small 
whimpers from the husband, as I was about to reach for the cup my 
mobile began to ring its embarrassing jingle which echoed around the 
bare room. Quickly, I brought it out of my jacket pocket placing it to 
my ear. Through the receiver all I could hear was static until a faint 
voice broke through, followed by a loud blood curdling scream. 

“Do not believe his lies” 

I heard a whisper before the line went dead. Confused but not wanting to
alarm the suspect I went for my coffee cup again, glancing up to see 
him sat up straight, staring directly at me. We looked to one another 
for a moment before his hand wrapped around mine and the cup. His touch 
was freezing even with the heat of the coffee penetrating the 
polarising cup. 

“You felt it didn't you when you entered the flat. That cold breeze.
Mary felt it also and that's why they came for her” James panted in 
fear from the very words he spoke. I tried to pull away but couldn't 
from the unexpected strength he held me with. 

“Mr. Matthews let go of my hand” 

I ordered, but as I heard Lock open the door our eyes, that never left
each others, parted and as I  blinked for a split second I reopened 
them to find everyone was just as it was. It was like Mr Matthews had 
never moved from his seat. His face was still cupped in his hands and 
his whole body didn't seem tense like it had before. No one could have 
relaxed that fast. 

“What did you just say to me?” 

I gasped feeling frozen to the core, just looking at his cowering frame
over the table. James looked up in confusion wiping away the tears 
which streaked his face. 

“Excuse me!” 

“Just then, when you grabbed my hand, something about your apartment a
breeze” 

“I don't know what you're talking about, Detective” he looked to Lock
for help, which John took. 

“Detective Scott what is this about?” John laid the tray of warm tea
onto the table before taking my shoulder in a squeeze. 

“Nothing” I sat back shrugging away his hand in hostility 

“Okay, now if we could continue Mr. Matthews.” 

James Matthews had been released, after a few interrogations from a
number of other professionals, and still at 4.30am all I could think 
about was him. How could I explain what I saw, they would never believe 
me, just like the other times and even now I could feel his cold grip 
across my hand. I had to go back to his apartment on the upper east 
side of Manhattan and go over it with out the distraction of the 
others. 

Preferring to take the stairs rather then the claustrophobic lift, I
finally reached the sixth floor. There were only two apartments on each 
floor, meaning they were not short of money, James as we found worked 
as an architect, whereas Mary worked as a primary school teacher. As I 
approached the door, that was blocked with the usual bright yellow and 
black police tape, I noticed the light bulbs of the corridor pulse and 
danced only outside of the Matthews door. Ignoring it I detached one 
end of each tape letting it drop away from the key hole then pushed the 
serrated edge into the lock twisting it clock wise. The door clicked 
open without the aid of a push and I walked in pulling on the white 
powdered gloves so as not to get my prints on anything I might touch. 
Inside I was met by the familiar smell of dried blood. The forensics 
had moved the furniture, it was common, so that they could gather any 
tiny bit of evidence that might A) build up a case against Mr Matthews 
or B) later be used to pin a suspect. I stretched back toward the door 
to find the light switch but as I pressed it the bulbs only flickered a 
couple of times then shut off. 

“Damn” 

I cursed under my breath unclipping my small torch from my belt,
clicking it on. The small pool of light whizzed where I pointed it, 
over framed documents and other various objects of models made by 
children, cards and over wedding photos. Suddenly from the bathroom 
corridor I heard a thud like a loud footstep and suddenly the apartment 
grew cold, so cold that the breeze blew my hair away from my face. I 
flicked the light to the small narrow corridor but its light never 
reached the end, leaving the rest in darkness. 

“This is the police, whoever's in this apartment show yourself now” 

I yelled into the blackness slowly attaching my 9mm hand gun from its
holster. There was no response but I felt something brush past me. I 
span round to see who it was but there was no one there. 

“I'm warning you, come out now and I won't put a bullet in your god damn
heads” 

I said finding that my voice had become shaky, while a stream of white
condensation passed my shivering lips. There was another creak from 
behind me, this time I could feel a cold breath upon the back of my 
neck. I had never been so afraid to turn around and then  in a whirl I 
pointed my gun, meeting the ghostly white face of the deceased Mary 
Matthews. Her eyes were black which wept blood down her thin cheeks, 
her mouth gawped open as her short brown hair came loose from the clip 
she wore. Her arm moved in jolts up toward my face, I couldn't move no 
matter how hard I tried. I was as vulnerable as when James had grabbed 
me. Her wet hand lay on my face and a bright light blinded my vision 
until it came back and I felt as if I was someone else. I was moving 
without wanting to and the sights I saw were of the night she died. 
Mary was on the couch alive then in one blink she was screaming, but 
had no sound the next I felt her dying hand in mine as I dragged her 
weight toward the bathroom. The next Mary was dripping with blood 
pointing to something behind where I stood. My eyes followed her finger 
and on a mirror on the far wall was a name painted in blood: Angela 
Gillespie. 

This had not been the first time I had seen such unspeakable horrors, no
I was renowned for it in my station or was I simply renowned for been 
crazy? I didn't know but when such things show themselves to me I have 
no other choice but to follow them to the end, and it was James that 
was going to help me tie up these loose ends. 

It didn't take me long to find out where James was staying. He knew
there was something supernatural at work in that apartment, something 
that can harm people and I needed to know just what the hell it was. 
Moving calmly along the lobby and up in to the stairs I went directly 
to his room. I thundered my fist onto the wood, waiting only a few 
moments, before beating on it again and then again. The door opened 
slightly revealing the sleepy looking James. Without an offer of entry, 
I pushed my way in. 

“Is there something wrong” he asked in a yawn 

“I've just been to your apartment. Who's Angela Gillespie?” 

“I haven't heard of that name before. Are you alright? You look like
you've seen a ghost” 

“I have, your wifes. She pointed to a name written in blood, Angela
Gillespie” 

I spoke out of breath maybe from the hike up the stairs or from the fear
of talking about the phenomena, which was all too common to me, which 
had happened just hours ago. 

“I'm calling the police you're delusional” instantly he snapped  out of
his sleepy trance to reach for the phone. 

“Who are they? the cold, breeze just tell me” 

“My wife has just died detective could you have some compassion” he
released the phone, dropping to a seat set next to a desk covered with 
blue prints, each one having a scribble upon them. 

“I didn't believe her, she said that there was something wrong with the
apartment I didn't believe her. I had spent a lot of money buying that 
apartment for her so that she could be nearer to the school. I told her 
the only way to get us out of the apartment was in body bags. At first 
I would just notice that small things had moved from their original 
place, I thought it was just Mary trying to piss me off. There is 
something not of this world in there” 

“And the name” I asked a little calmer. He looked up at me and shrugged.


“Who killed your wife?” 

“The spirits, they would always hurt her I just kept on thinking it was
her trying to get attention” he sank into his shoulders trying to hold 
back the tears. I doubted myself. How could such a normal case twist in 
such a strange way, like only few before it. I turned to leave with out 
an explanation when he stopped me. 

“You can't just leave after this intrusion, where are you going?” 

“You've told me all I wanted to know, I'm going to find this Angela” 

“Then let me come” 

“I don't think that would be appropriate” 

“I think it would” he said pulling on a pair of jeans, slipping on a
top. I waited only a moment for him to fasten his shoes then he 
followed me out of the room. 

Morning shift had already arrived in at the station and each looked in
puzzlement towards me, They probably didn't even recognise me in the 
soft light of early morning. Quickly, I marched into the computer room 
where most of the machines were occupied already, with people writing 
up their reports. 

“No civilians are allowed back here Page” Steven my old partner stopped
me before I logged on. 

“Don't worry he's with me, I just need to check something out then I'll
be out of your way” I said tapping in my password. 

“I'm not concerned about you been here, it's him.” Steven continued to
bark until I felt his cheek on mine, his morning coffee breath, blowing 
along the side of my cheek. 

“Have you had any sleep?” 

“James, would you go wait for me outside please?” I changed the subject
from my sleeping habits. James grunted then I heard his footsteps leave 
over the beeps of computers. 

“Page, Page. Will you stop and look at me?” Steven took my hands from
the keyboard and drew my eyes from the screen which flashed, searching. 


“What is it?” I snapped 

“Have you been to sleep? You don't look like you have and you know how
you get when you haven't had sleep.” 

“No I don't. Like what?” 

“Like this. Now if I'm not mistaking that is James Matthews, the same
James Matthews that is the only suspect in his wife's vicious death. 
What are you doing?” 

“I had another vision” I whispered 

“Oh here we go” he rolled his eyes 

“Steve I don't care that you don't believe me, you never did, that's why
I transferred to nights and got a new partner” 

“You knowing about that woman's body, in the garden under the rose bush
was a freak coincidence, what you're talking about is impossible. Dead 
people can't talk. Not to you, not to me. But it is our jobs to punish 
their murderer's and right now you are most probably walking around 
with one.” he refrained from yelling so that no one could hear our 
words, but his voice was harsh. 

“Listen it's none of your concern I'm nothing to you now so keep your
nose out. I know what I'm doing” I faced the computer having a file on 
Angela Gillespie pop up. It didn't surprise me that her name was on the 
system. 

“Yeah well this one might finally convince the boss to put you on the
desk like he threatened to so many times in the past, all because of 
these silly outbursts you have. There are only so many times he can 
stand not disciplining a crazy cop on meds.” he pushed my chair hard 
before he moved away into the computer room. It was just like him, 
Steven Coal my first partner in the NYPD borough to act like this. We 
had been partners for ten years before I asked for a transfer. He hated 
me for that, claiming everything that he had done for me in the past 
was to help, but everything he did only made things worse. Steven not 
only had the rest of the station believing I was crazy but he had at 
one point even made me believe it. Landing me with the department 
shrink for the past 18 months. 

The visions that had eluded me in this time were now back in their
vicious glory, but why had they came back after so long, I asked 
myself, and why did I get so scared, tonight, after all I had seen 
worse. 

Not bothering to read anything about the skinny looking woman, I simply
scribbled her address on the back of my hand going to leave, feeling 
Steven's blue eyes follow me out of the room, like that of a  vulture. 

I hailed a cab outside of the station telling the Mexican driver our
destination. James opened the back door of the cab for me to climb in 
then he shuffled in next to me before the car started with a gigantic 
rev of the engine. The warm leather on the seat was surprisingly 
comfortable for a New York, hail a cab. The pillowed backs seemed to 
hug around my shoulders as if I had already gone home to bed, or was it 
simply another over twenty four hour day that I found myself not 
uncommon to, in my unusual sleeping habits. Four hours were more then 
sufficient to escape the nightmares that came the longer I slept. I 
tried to keep my mind alert however, I couldn't help but feel my eyes 
begin to become extremely heavy and  before I knew it the darkness took 
me. 

I found myself stood in a green florescent room that ran with a rusty
type of substance, I could make out a small girl standing up against 
the far wall. She was blonde, wearing a blue checked dress with her 
long white socks pulled up to her knees. However, her shoes were 
removed and the bottom of the socks were worn, muddy and holy. 
Suddenly, a mind grating screech, like someone running their nails over 
a chalk board drew my attention away to the walls around me. Words 
began to appear torn in to the green plaster from an unforeseen 
presence. The bloody claw marks read: 

“He likes to make you run, he likes to chance for fun, but when he's
done he'll rest at home until the next will come” a nursery rhyme of 
some sort, repeated over and over some even scratched into other parts 
of the verse and I watched as the writing began to chip into the wooden 
floor beneath my feet sending painful splinters into my arms and legs, 
brushing away the shards of wood, frantically  I looked back up. The 
crowds of people had advanced, lead by the blonde girl, surrounding me 
where I stood. My heart pounded as a bleeding hand reached out to touch 
me when....... 

“Detective” 

A hard shake made me open my eyes. A cold sweat ran down my forehead
that I brushed away with my hand. Disorientated I pushed the person 
waking me away, I tried to find my bearings after such a shock and then 
finally through blurred eyes James came into view. 

“You were dreaming. It didn't sound too friendly. You were singing a
type of nursery rhyme” his frown grew more intense as we locked eyes. 

“I saw a little girl in a blue dress, it looked like your apartment but
was bare of possessions. I don't know what I'm saying.” I shook my head 


“No, continue” James voice became stern, like he demanded me to continue
rather then asked for me to. It was like he had all of a sudden turned 
in to another person before my eyes. 

“I can't remember” I said softly for him to take my arm. 

“Don't lie to me, what did the girl look like, who told you that rhyme,
did she tell you it, the girl” his voice roared above the usual 
whisper. 

“James what are you doing let go, just remember who has the gun here” I
threatened having him released his constricting grip. His body that was 
so aggressive seemed to just melt and he casually sat back shaking his 
head. 

“I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, Mary.” he lay his hand on to
my leg then looked out of the window 

“James, I'm not your Mary. Now could, you take your hand off my leg
please” I said consciously suspecting something extremely strange about 
Mr Matthews that I never sensed before, and usually I was good with 
first impressions. He jerked his hand as if he struggled too, releasing 
a small smile. I stared at him for a moment then I too looked out the 
window. 

We were definitely out of the city and into the suburbs, lines of houses
were replaced with yards of trees. The taxi man who had been watching 
our every move in the middle mirror indicated to go down a dust track. 
The deep divots in the road made the car jump and bounce uncomfortably. 
At the end of the track we came to a huge white house that's paint work 
was chipped and weathered. Large willow trees draped their wispy grey 
fingers over the drive which was scattered with pebbles that was meant 
to stop weeds coming through but instead left patches of them dotted 
around. Each of the windows were blacked out with paint, while I could 
hear wind charms swaying on the covered over  porch which ran the front 
of the house. They hung all over the property in every doorway and 
every window. It looked as if they were made out of hollow bones but I 
couldn't be sure until I looked at them properly. 

“That's $97” 

with out acknowledging the driver I went into my inner pocket bringing
out my credit card, laying it on the small opening in the screen for 
the driver to take. He then slotted  back through the device to place 
in my pin. I punched it in quickly then I climbed out walking to the 
wound down window taking the card with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I ask you to wait a while? I'll add an extra $100 not
including the $97 back to the city” I made my offer 

“Do you want me to wait here?” he asked 

“No the end of the drive” I ordered, watching James climb out being
mesmerised by the sounds in the fresh crisp air, I patted the top of 
the taxi then began to trot up toward the house having James follow 
behind. 

“Sounds alright with me lady” I heard the driver chuckle before firing
up his taxi pulling back up out of the drive. 

The busy screeching of cars was replaced with the harmonious chirp of
birds and natural creaks of tree branches swaying in the wind above. I 
paused before I knocked on the decrepit door to examine one of the hand 
made wind chimes. The chime consisted of seven small pipes that were 
made of brass; the middle that pinged off the pipes was a skull of some 
small rodent. A bird feathers was also attached by wires, to maybe add 
some character to the strange chime, or was it for something more 
sinister. I raised my hand to the door when the sound of numerous locks 
behind it began to clank and bang loose until an almost skeletal face 
popped round the doorway. Her large, almost black eyes protruded 
further from their sockets due to the lack of fat on her face her lips 
were thin, tinted in an unusual blue colour while the rest of her skin 
was a dingy grey. She flicked her age, streaked, black hair behind her 
ears then examined both of us. 

“You may come in, he stays outside” she hissed stretching her long arm
out of the darkness, pointing to James, who stood completely still but 
breathed heavily, her eyes then darted back at me offering the way in. 

“I'm Detective.....” 

“Page Scott I know, I have been told of your arrival” 

I looked to the back of Angela as she lead the way. Inside, the house
was just as shabby as the outside, clothes lay in piles, rubbish that 
was placed in black bags spewed over the floor while further filth was 
spread by the hundreds of cats that had tugged tasty bits out of them, 
leaving piles and puddles of their own waste on the carpets. I could 
not determine their original colour from the stains. The house reeked 
badly of cat urine and excrement, so much so it made my eyes water. 

“By who?” I asked pulling away from the thoughts. I thought about the
way she lived. 

“They have no name, they are like the faces that you see but never hear.
That man has a bad soul about him” 

She shuffled fast down the right hand side of the master staircase which
stopped at a platform before branching off into a left and a right 
stair. I followed her closely going through a doorway that's door had 
been taken off the hinges. Her pink matted slipper accidentally kicked 
one of the many cats in the room with it screaming past our legs. In 
what I imaged to be the sitting room a large ball room table occupied 
most of the space. On it was a collection of candles that were held 
erect by previous melted candle stubs. Books and scraps of paper seemed 
to be the only things put into order, they were stacked in piles some 
with pentagram symbols scribbled on them, others with names, and on one 
single shelf hovering over the piles of books were pots of a strange 
sand. 

“Then you won't be surprised when I tell you I saw your name been
pointed to by his wife's ghost in the bathroom that she died in” I 
avoided a pile of cat faeces that had begun to mould into the fabric of 
the pink carpet. 

“There is something not right with him, but I cannot put my finger on
it. I haven't smelt malice like what he has deep within him before” she 
mumbled 

“I must get something from upstairs. Stay here. Don't move and whatever
you do don't invite that man in.” 

Angela warned with another point of her finger before disappearing out
of the room. The muffled ring of my phone pulled my eyes away from my 
surroundings. The screen on the front flashed, Steven. Did I answer it 
and jeopardize finding the out truth about Mary and James, or ignore it 
and maybe him turn up, it was a tough call, but no matter how much my 
ambition told me to turn it off I decided to answer. 

“Scott” 

“Page it's me, the murdered woman's name was not Mary her name was Bell
Whitley and that man is not who he says he is. The sick bastard cut her 
face up so bad we have had to get dental records. Mary Matthews has 
been dead for three years, murdered as she slept with her husband and 
daughter Rachael. There's something really wrong with him, is he there 
with you?” 

“Hold on, slow down” 

“Where are you” he said urgently 

“I don't understand how files can be brought up for him with finger
prints, how can he not be James Matthews” 

“James Matthews, Mary's husband had his finger tip skin removed, that
pervert was probably the person stalking her.” 

“And the Mary Mathews file” 

“I don't know, there has been a serious cockup with the transfer of
files, the job and other information were the only things that came up, 
the body was marked as Mary Matthews. If  Lock hadn't  looked harder 
she would have probably be buried under that name. Who knows how many 
more of these women there are.” 

“I'm at Angela Gillespie's house, 13 Rose Mount Drive, I have a taxi on
stand by. Why has he done this?” 

“To get you secluded it seems.” 

“Christ I'm so stupid” I cursed hearing Angela walking down the stairs. 

“Just get out of there, I'm sending squad cars” 

The phone cut dead as Gillespie entered the room, my heart raced with
adrenalin my mind buzzed at how naive I had been to believe his lies in 
the hotel room, about the apartment, and how he had manipulated me in 
to letting him come. 

The next time I looked to Angela she had started to spread a  red sand
over the table top, she then sharply knelt down grabbing a cat from off 
the floor instantly snapping its neck. In disgust I turned away as she 
reached in to the cat's mouth pulling free the animal's tongue before 
squeezing the blood, already leaking from the organ on to the sand. 

“We must get the truth and confront him with it, you must bind with him”
she whispered in-between a strange rhyme, she chanted. 

“Angela, no. We need to get out of here, he is very dangerous.” 

“I know and that is why we must destroy him, kill him with the truth, he
is so delusional of his existence he has become twisted. Come we must 
hurry” 

She grabbed my hands, as I caught a glimpse of a shadow pass the window,
followed by a crash, as his hands burst through the front door, 
flailing around trying to unhook the locks on the inside. When 
something hard hit me hard across the back of the head and as darkness 
clouded my vision the last words I heard her utter were: 

“Your gift has led you this far, to go back now would be unwise.” 

My eyes ached to open and although I felt myself wake from the head
blow, I knew I wasn't in the real world but that strange place where so 
many nightmares came from. What had that damn woman done to me? I 
thought as I scraped myself off the wet concrete below me. My hair 
clinging to the moistness upon my cheek while the rest of my black suit 
was marked in wet patches, it was unlike any dream I had ever had 
before, I could literally feel the coldness on my body. The only light 
in what appeared to be a stairwell of an apartment block, was a bare 
light bulb swinging on only a single wire. My hand went to where my gun 
should have been but it was missing, it was typical. I shivered 
noticing someone or something stood on the middle step of the stairs in 
front of me. I stepped back as I heard its feet patter down the wet 
stairs when my back was met by a wall that was not there before, my 
only way to get out of this dream, I feared, was forward. The steps 
stopped and from the murky brown fog which had gathered in the confined 
space I squinted to see where the presence had gone. Suddenly, from the 
side of me a freezing grip wrapped around my wrist and the face of that 
little blonde girl stared up at me, her eyes so strained to look up 
that they seemed to be white. 

“What do you want?” I asked 

“This way, this way to him” 

She said pulling on my arm so hard that she moved my body weight with
little difficulty. She lead me on to one of the steps urging my on with 
small tugs to go faster. The stairs seemed to climb higher than what my 
eyes could see and my breaths had become heavy like, the air got 
thinner. She then stopped on one of the platforms pushing me toward an 
iron door with a small porthole window placed in it, the door was 
numbered one. Inside I saw a bedroom and in the bed I saw two people 
sleeping, personally I felt like I was intruding but I noticed I was 
not alone. A small hole on the far wall was occupied by an eye, but the 
eye was not on the bed but on me then it shifted as a thunderous bang 
vibrated the walls. I ducked thinking the bang had come from behind me. 
I stood up looking back inside the room where a figure was stood over 
the bed holding a axe at his side. The two people were dead cut to 
pieces 

“I love you Mary” the figure sobbed kneeling down taking the woman's
still twitching hand. 

This must have been what Steve was talking about. I had to continue, I
had to find out the truth to all of it. I took my attention out of the 
room to have the two people in the bed standing behind me and the 
little girl had gone. Organs and lumps of flesh dangled from their 
limbs while their entire bodies were covered in a hardened blood. The 
woman who was the original Mary Matthews flexed her index finger to 
follow them further up. Blood began to bubble and streak the walls with 
words as we passed. “So he walks through life, delusional of what 
atrocities he has committed, his obsession has lead his soul to eternal 
damnation and his mind into constant denial. He must then, for his sins 
live out the scenario of his madness. Possessed by his own grief the 
darkness rivals in the torture of the victims ghosts.” The next door 
was numbered two and upon its surface were small drawings of flowers 
and smiling children. This must have been the blonde girls death, 
Rachel‘s death. The window was coated in blood so I could not see in 
but all I could hear were screams. 

As I moved on, passed room after room more of the bloodied ghosts of
other woman, that had been dressed and sculpted like the first of the 
ladies followed me further up into the building. Their hair cut if it 
was longer then chin length, dyed if it was not brown, their modern 
cloths swapped for more comfortable cloths, but almost all were 
mutilated beyond recognition, except the real Mary. The last door was 
set at the end of a long blacked out corridor where a yellow light only 
touched the sharp edges of the walls. The presence of the others around 
me had disappeared, and this, I feared I would have to face alone. 

My shoes splashed through puddles of water leading up to the door, which
seemed to drift further and further away from my every step, like that 
also familiar dream of the stairway that gets longer and longer the 
higher you go. The air around me went as cold as ice and my whole body 
began to shiver, uncontrollably, the door was already open so I passed 
through into a room completely surrounded by pictures of Mary Matthews. 
A silhouetted figure sat at a desk cutting and sticking photos 
together, his concentration emerged in the arrangements of each on to a 
scrap book. I watched as he got up, shuffling over toward a black 
painted refrigerator that he opened. I could see the contents of the 
heavily stained shelves and on the shelves were jars of body parts but 
the one he went for was a one containing ten small pieces of flesh. He 
took it then went to sit back down, on the table he squeezed super glue 
on to each finger tip and as if he was applying false finger nails he 
began to push on the pieces of flesh. 

“I'v been waiting for you Mary” he tore his face in my direction. 

“Everything, everything you have told me was a lie, even you're
existence is a lie, you're a good actor I must admit. You're not James 
Matthews and I'm not Mary.” I spat over to him with him smiling in a 
disturbing grin. 

“Mary, why do you have to make me so angry all the time, I am your
husband. You saw the photos in our apartment, the documents you saw was 
what I wanted you all to see, there is a darkness that wants me to keep 
you Mary forever. From the moment I saw you in that school yard with 
that brat Rachel at your side, who pulled your attention from me, I 
knew we were meant to be with each other.” 

“Who are you?” 

“My name, my name is James and you're mine” 

He rose from his seat, tipping it over from the force, as he got up. He
was in denial of who he truly was and the only way to break him from 
this dream was to show him. Show him the brutality of his actions, but 
how? He pressed up against me raising his hand to my hair, smiling. A 
faint whispering voice hissed in my ear 

“Bring him to us.” 

“James, I want you to come with me, I need you too. Will you do that for
me?” I took his hand knowing what I had to do, I had to take him to 
them. 

“Anything” I turned to go out watching black shadows raise over the
walls and what light there was coming from the doorway I occupied 

“Nice try, Detective” 

James voice had changed deep strong not the soft whisper it usually was.
It was that same voice that spoke to me in the taxi. Suddenly, he 
pulled me back hard, letting go of my hand throwing me into the room, 
hitting, off the table smashing the jar of what smelt to be vinegar 
over, the floor. 

“They always said he was a little crazy.” he began. 

“You're not James?” I asked. Scraping myself off the floor having pains
so real race up my body 

“He had been infatuated by Mary since the first time he saw her, but she
was married to that JAMES. He watched her for years before he went to 
tell her how he felt.” he edged slowly toward me 

“The kid got in the way all the time, so he killed them all. His soul
fractured and I was born. He began to think he was James all the way 
down to the job, until he took the other woman and began to change them 
in Mary's image.” A disturbing cackle came from his throat as he spoke 

“Then I took over. Its my handy work you've seen in them ghosts, and I
know they want to finally get their revenge for not been able to stop 
me. Looks like they hoped along with that voodoo lady, you with the 
gift to see the dead could finally put an end to me.” James smiled 

“So who are you?” 

“ I am the darkness that James has told you of, I am his true self. I
think James would like to wrap this delusion up by himself, after all 
he has done it once before.” 

“He is the person who you won't name as yourself, and you are nothing
but the darkness and evil that has manifested itself in him after he 
killed Mary's family.” 

I growled pulling myself to my feet “You are a no one not even a living
being and the body that holds you needs to realize that he is in 
control not you” I realised as he began to laugh in a gruff roar “Its 
been to long, its over. I've never let him kill a cop before. But first 
time for everything.” I watched as his confident stature shrank in an 
uncomfortable scrunch. The man who called himself James was back. He 
tilted his head toward me, he was crying. 

“So you don't want me, Mary I would treat you like a Queen. I can't let
that man have you, you're mine” 

A shadow formed around his hand and out of it emerged an axe already
tainted in rusted blood. He was controlling this strange world to his 
liking, but I knew for one thing that he could not step one foot out of 
this room or they would get him. His back straightened as he looked 
down at the weapon. 

“You've drawn me to do this, you could have had everything.” 

His eyes flashed in a crazed gleam as he began to approach in long
strides. I glanced around me to find anything that I could defend 
myself with but there was nothing. He had already advanced fast, so 
fast that the first in range swing came at me. I quickly ducked out of 
the way as it bedded in the wall behind. James pulled and tugged the 
instrument to release it when I swung open the refrigerator taking out 
one of the jars and as he came at me for a second  time I threw one of 
the glass jars into his face with it shattering, imbedding the pieces 
into his soft skin. But not even this seemed to stop him. He came at me 
like a mad man, so furious, I couldn't swerve out the way of him and he 
barged me back, pinning me against another wall of the room pushing the 
axe handle on to my neck, lifting up my head to stare in to his 
bloodied face. 

“I love you” 

He whispered while he slid the handle away leaving painful splinters
embedding into my neck from the wood into one hand while he kept me 
pinned with the other, and just as he was about to take the deathening 
blow, I brought my knee up in to his groin stopping him in his tracks, 
disabling him enough, to kick the axe out of his hand, grabbing it, 
then twisting it up behind his back. He squealed in pain as I guided 
him toward the door. “You wouldn't send an innocent man to them 
creatures out there, would you detective?” the darkness in him roared 
in disgust. “He's not innocent” 

I spat, stopping him inches from the doorway. Out of the darkness long
arms trust into the room, ripping him from my grip tearing him out of 
sight with horrific screams. It was over. 

“Page, Page” awake, and looking up into the concerned eyes of  Steven.
“We arrived and the whole house was screaming, all the windows opening 
and closing, we couldn't get in. What the hells happened here?” 

“Where's James?” 

I asked as he helped me stiffly to my feet directing my attention over
to the corner where his limp body was, however, he still gulped in air 
in long wheezes. “You wouldn't believe me even if I told you” I said 
allowing Steven to help me toward the door when a howl came from the 
body turning both of us round to see what it was and out of it a black 
cloud emerged from his open mouth, both of us went to duck when from 
behind the skeletal frame of Angela loomed over us calling a curse so 
loud it made my ears sting, drawing the apparition into an open jar she 
held in her hands. She snapped it shut fast then looked down to Steven 
and I. “The spirits will all rest in peace now. The dark half is 
contained in a vessel that he cannot control” she cracked a jagged 
smile, moving back into her house. “How about you start explaining, I 
think I might consider believing in something after all I've seen 
today.” Steven laughed uncomfortably. 

The case was filed as solved and Steven no longer sniggered at what he
once called my delusions. The strange character who had pulled me 
through hell was called, Eddy Rose, an escaped mental patient in New 
Jersey penitentiary. He would move from village, to town, to city in 
his strange quest to find the Mary that he had already sentenced to 
death. However, because of the evil spirit within Eddy that kept on 
telling him she was still alive, waiting for him, he took woman who 
resembled her and this was where his dark self could indulge in their 
bloody murders. The Doctors said that it was; split personality 
disorder but both Steven and I knew otherwise. Eddy died hours after 
been taken from the house, they said it was a severe heart attack. And 
as for the files on the computer system, why they got all muddled up, 
who knew, no one seems to know not even to this day almost a month 
after the strange incident. I imagined that had to do with some 
supernatural forces, but how would I explain that in a case report. So 
everything went back to normal. It could be weeks, months, years till 
my next episode but no doubt I would have to be there to take the call.


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