Unexpected

- 1 -

Late in the evening – as usual – I strolled into the ‘The Bee’ for a cup of beer and attending our daily Friday meeting. There were five of us – me (Abraham), Joe, Lindsey, Mike and Charles. We would sit at the second table, right next to the counter, every Friday at 6 p.m., and for two and a half hours, we would be talking about – let’s say, almost everything. The specialty of our meeting was that it always accelerated to a heated and nail-biting argument (at first, people thought that we were boozing away uncontrollably, but nowadays, they don’t bother much about it.)

However, my story starts with today’s argument. 

Today’s topic was about the paranormal and its related stuff. Within half an hour, the conversation accelerated into – you guessed it – an argument. I’ve put our speeches in the form of a multilogue below:

Joe: Seriously dude. People who believe in such things are jerks.

Me: But what about the people who have seen them. They were completely normal!

Mike: Yeah, man. My mom said that before grandpa’s death…

Charles: C’mon Mike! We’ve heard that story a million times by now. He was lying on his deathbed, when a ghostly apparition with devil’s horns suddenly appeared before him, and he died just fifteen minutes after that. But, I am sure, that apparition was nothing but just a prank! An unforgiving prank!

Joe: I don’t seem to understand why people believe such…

Me: (banging the table) There have been proofs about it!

Joe: Oh yeah? So the person who gave the news was a wacko, who just wanted to earn – let’s say – false fame. C’mon! Shakespeare himself said: (in a deep voice)

‘But fish not, with this melancholy bait,

For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. –’

(Though I couldn’t understand how this was related to this, I kept quiet)

Charles: (sighing) The world is suddenly so full of such ‘ghostly’ things. I mean, what about Amityville? Has there been any evidence about the demonic haunting over there?

Joe: Yeah, what about that? I firmly believe that the Lutzes – the last residents of that house – were just ‘fishing’ about for this ‘gudgeon’ called ‘fame’.

Me: So, according to your logic Joe, the Perron family haunting case was also then not real – just based on loads of jokes – so why do you still watch it’s film, ‘The Conjuring’, multiple times till now?

Our argument was about to move further – getting even more excited than usual – when suddenly, Lindsey said something which made our mouths to stop abruptly.

‘I can show you that there are ghosts, for I have one back at my place. It’s a terrible – but generous – one. It literally can kill anyone. You got to believe me.’

We stared at him for a while. Then, we all stared at each other. For a few moments, there was silence, which was broken by Charles’ laughter, saying, ‘Man Lindsey, since when did you start to be so humorous? You’re truly joking! It’s of no question! How much beer did you drink today? Three or four cups?’ At this, we all laughed aloud, heartily.

Lindsey, however, was not amused at all. He replied – in a deep voice – ‘Listen Charles. I know that this news will be considered by you to be false, thinking that I am making it up. So, I request all of you to come down tomorrow at 3 p.m. to my house. In fifteen minutes of your stay over there, you all shall see what I was talking about. It’s real, okay? Anyway, I better get going now. See you tomorrow.’ Having said that, Lindsey stood up, went over to the counter, paid for his own beer – though it is collectively paid by me – and went out in the cold, January evening.

We all drank our beers silently, wondering over what Lindsey said. A quite successful author though, Lindsey Rhoder suffered from – sometimes – depression (it’s true, for I myself have seen him taking anti-depressant pills), and sometimes – wild as his imagination was – he saw hallucinations of his mother and father, and his dead sister (who died due to a car accident). Sometimes, his hallucinations lasted for two days. Was this another of his long hallucinations? After discussing, we decided to go to his house tomorrow, and take a look at his proof. With that – quite early for us – we said each other ‘goodnight’, and walked back home.

***

-2-

Next morning, I had just finished my daily Sudoku, and was about to start my breakfast, when my cell phone rang aloud. It was Charles. 

‘Good morning, Charles. Well, what’s the matter?’

‘G’mornin’. Remember where we would have to go today?’

For a few moments, I thought about for a while what happened. Then I remembered. ‘Yeah. Why?’

‘I’ve come up with a plan to scare the hell out of Lindsey.’

‘The plan is simple. We were asked to come down at 3 o’ clock, right? You, Joe, Mike reach at your usual time. I’ll come over there ten minutes earlier. I’ll put on the blinds of all the windows of his house. Then – now here’s the main part.

He paused for a while. What on earth was he gonna do?

‘Abe,’ he asked, ‘I think you have a rope lying at your house, right? Before coming over there, just give it the shape of a hangman’s noose. Then, I’ll pretend-hang myself on a tree over there. Fifteen minutes later, you all scream and shout, and when Lindsey comes, he’ll be scared out of his wits!’ He laughed aloud.

Then, he said, ‘So, Abe, shall we do this?’

I thought for some moments. I had a feeling that Lindsey was faking it. Whether for that, or simply because for Charles’ amusing plan, I gave my approval.

‘Then it’s done. I better contact the others.’ With that, he kept the phone.

I rushed to my walking closet. Just as I expected, there was a rope – long enough for a good noose! I immediately started making the noose. Completing it, I called out, ‘Mr.S! Can you please come over here?’

Mr.S was my pet dog – an Alsatian – to whom I gave the noose – tied up in a packet – and giving instructions where he should give the packet, he rushed out.

Charles would surely be surprised at this!

***

-3-

After munching down two hamburgers, I checked the time. 2.50 p.m. Charles phoned me up five minutes ago, thanking me for the speedy delivery and informing me that he had already arrived at the Lindeys’ – he wanted to immediately start the plan. Putting a coat over my shirt, I went out, and started walking. It was exactly 6 minutes from my house to Lindseys’. 

The day was grey, overcast with low clouds. The weather report said that there would be a thunderstorm occurring today. But, since it was after 5 p.m., so we had nothing to worry about. The job (plan) would have been done by then.

My feet made sounds as I walked along the pavement, which was covered with snow here and there. The wind blowing was very cold, making me to pull my coat closer to my body.

Reaching Lindseys’ – it was a small cottage, surrounded by a marvelous and large grassy meadow, with trees scattered over here and there – I found Joe and Mike standing over the north-side willow tree – the star attraction of this meadow. They feared that I would have backed out of fear. I laughed, stating that even the Devil did not have the power to stop me today.

I looked at the tree, and saw on one of its branch was the master of this plan – Charles – hanging (pretend) with the help of my noose. It was so real, that people entering over there at this time – including Lindsey – would run out screaming that a man had committed suicide!

‘You know Abe, I feel something isn’t right.’ Joe said to me.

‘Why? If Lindsey tries anything to scare us…..’, I laughed at this. The belief had already formed inside me that Lindsey was playing a joke on all of us.

‘Not that. When Charles was putting on the blinds, he found that the house was unusually quiet, as if no one was living there. Also, Charles felt a little strange while hang…..’

I bursted into laughter, ‘Really, Joe! You were yesterday only shrieking about the non-existence of paranormal and such strange feelings, and now you are scared just for silence? I am telling you, pal, old Lindsey is pulling off a trick. Once if I get him….’

Well, let’s wait then. Its 3 o’clock. He will be here in fifteen minutes. We shall see then whether he is telling the truth or lying the whole time.’ Mike suggested. So, we all sat upon the cool grass, and began to wait.

Five minutes passed by, I started to think about what Joe told me. Clearly, our host was trying to instill fear in us, that we all become frightened out of our wits when he showed us his ghost. However, this ‘unusually quiet’ and ‘little strange feeling at the willow tree’ weren’t so good after all…

Ten minutes passed by. The sky was turning greyer by the moment. I don’t know why, but suddenly I began to feel that something wasn’t right about this whole affair. A question now began to turn about in my head: Where was Lindsey?

Fifteen minutes passed by, but still no sign of Lindsey. In spite of this, we put our plan into action. We surrounded the right side of the willow tree (where Charles was pretend-hanging) and started to scream about.

‘Oh goodness! Someone strangled him!’

‘Help! He was alive…… just in front of us! How did he….’

‘His body levitated off…’

But, after about three minutes of screaming, we stopped. Lindsey still had not appeared.

‘Clearly got scared. Liar!’, I remarked.

‘Just imagine. The man who was supposed to scare us got himself scared!’, replied Joe.

‘Wait. Maybe he is hiding out in the meadow. I’ll go and search for him.’ Having said that, Mike started to search for Lindsey in the meadow.

A new doubt suddenly begins to arise in me: Charles wasn’t aware of all this. If we went according to the plan, then Charles should have now opened his eyes, and get down from there. So, why was he still hanging over there? I gulped down. A sinking feeling came to me suddenly: Was he…..

‘AHHHHHH-H-H!’

My thoughts broke off as I heard a loud scream. Mike!

The two of us ran towards where he was screaming. He was standing on the left side of the north willow tree – where we were standing in the right side – and I nearly gasped at his face. He had turned bloodless!

‘What blazes, Mike? Have you found him? Why did you scream all of a sudden?’, Joe anxiously asked.

Breathing in lots of air, Mike answered, in a trembling voice – which would haunt me for a long time:

‘He’s-s u-u-p-up o-ve-ove-r-over th-th-er-e-there!’, he replied, pointing towards the upward direction. We all raised our heads to where he indicated, and shrieked with terror.

On one branch of the willow tree, hanging from a nylon rope noose was Lindsey! His skin was white as a sheet, and in his hand were his anti-depressant pills – Prozac – cupped tightly. His eyes was held up, and his mouth – oh my god! – the mouth was curled up in an evil smile, smeared with blood. The image of terror!

‘An-an-a-n-d-and I-I-I g-o-ot-got t-h-hi-is-this le-le-tt-letter!’, Mike said, giving us a sheet. Joe read it, and its contents made my blood run cold.

It was Lindseys’ suicide note! In it was written:

‘Goodbye world. I couldn’t take it anymore. Already I am suffering severe losses. Fourteen stories failed, and now publishers – who would eagerly wait for my stories to come – have dejected me, and are now, looking for other writers. My family doesn’t love me anymore. The girl whom I had loved for five years has also left me. So, what I should do? Death? Yes. I’ll die. I’ll die under witness of a thousand stars. I’ll die under the witness of my dear friend – the North Willow Tree. At 9 p.m. tonight, everything shall be over. Freedom at last!

LINDSEY RHODER

P.S. – I have invited some friends of mine to my house to show them a killer ghost. In order to show it, I’ll demonstrate it on my friend…..’

There was a space in the last part, which to my horror, I saw it getting filled, in red letters,

CHARLES

We all rushed – letter in my hand – to the left of the tree. There, we saw Charles, being strangled by an unknown force!

‘HELP ME! JOE! MIKE! ABE! WHERE ARE Y-Y-OU…. ARGGH TRUK….’

Mike had a knife in his pocket – always kept it for emergencies. With a sudden jump, he cut down the rope. Thank God that the rope wasn’t too strong and he had put it on lightly! With a crash, Charles fell down, gasping for breath. His eyes were red like rubies! His throat was cut, spurting blood all over it! Regardless, we hauled Charles over me and Joe’s back, and bolted for the gate.

When we reached the gate, a lightning suddenly illuminated the dark place, and in its light I saw a horrifying thing – I still have nightmares about it. The body of Lindsey was looking towards us, with that same devilish smile, and the air was suddenly filled with a deep, cackling voice:

‘See, what did I tell you? You wanted proof, and here it is. I am the proof! And my example – you saw it with your own eyes! Fools!’ There was loud laughter.

Without looking anywhere, we bolted down the street, in the downpour which had just begun.

***

-4-

The story practically ends here, but three pieces of information can be added to it as an aftermath:

Firstly, Charles went into a week-long coma after our afternoon at Lindsey’s, being not able to withstand the shock of his experience at the willow tree. Just after we had left on hearing Mike’s scream – he just slept off – he suddenly felt his mouth was being held by a hand, and his throat being pressed with another hand. He got so shocked that he wasn’t able to open his mouth for help. Had it not been for us, he would have probably died! He is now fine, but since then, never he had made any joke about the paranormal - neither do we,

Secondly, according to the police, Lindsey had died by first taking an overdose of those pills, and then hanged himself. His time of death was estimated at around nine to eleven o’clock in the night. The post-mortem report found the pills in his stomach.

Thirdly – I forgot to mention – Lindsey was the quietest member of our group. He never talked to anyone – let alone sharing his feelings. After interviewing his mother, father, editors and his ex-girlfriend – her name was Caroline – we finally got the meaning of what he said in his suicide letter – his last words.

The cottage and the meadow now stand empty. A year later, while I was passing by that place late one night, I felt that the wind was blowing colder than usual, and in the light of the full moon, I saw – oscillating in the wind – was the body of..

Lindsey Rhoder – the successful yet depressed author, the writer of about twenty-five short stories.

Whose death – a year ago – was completely… to all of us – his friends, his family, his trusted editors, and his ex-girlfriend….

Unexpected.

***

M.Macabre

19.06.2020

DEDICATED TO: STEPHEN KING

‘The thought of suicide is a great consolation. By means of one gets through many a dark night.’ - Nietzsche

Image courtesy: Google Images