That One Night [1]

[...Posted by Ted H]

Work has quite literally been kicking my ass, and if Im not working Im either sleeping, studying or dying so Ive got nothing 100% ready. So instead of posting another incomplete story, my loss shall become your gain since Im gonna post the intro to T1N. Lucky, lucky you.

As for that new author I keep bringing up-theyre all ready to rock, except they are also empty handed with anything 100% ready. Author #6 is comming, make no mistake...as for authors 2-5......uh...

And yeah, this fucker is pretty long, so just the intro for you...
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[That One Night]

It never rains on the shitty days. Never. Perhaps its because God likes the irony, or maybe he likes to withhold the irony. Or, whatever. Not that I claim to know how the fucker works…or claim to know the fucker at all. For all I know, his “mysterious ways” could include just rolling the dice…assuming he even exists. To think that after all that’s happened, I would be able to answer such a simple question of whether God exists or not. Hell, the greatest story ever told could turn out to be the greatest lie ever told…and I’m pretty sure that phrase has been used before.

-…The fuck am I thinking of again?

Imaginary deities aside, all I know is that it never rains when I have a shitty day. The day my dog died, it was partly cloudy out. It was beautiful out when I was suspended from high school for a fight (that I lost). On prom night, while my date was in back fucking some other guy, I remember noticing that it was such a pretty night, as if it were consolation that I spent a fortune to get where I was now only to have my date give it up to seemingly anyone who met the criteria of: not being me. See? No rain for my shitty days. Take tonight for instance; crystal clear and beautiful with a slight breeze. The kind of setting that makes romantic novels all the more sappy, where two lovers release their cares into that slight breeze and start fucking. Because it isn’t love unless they’re willing to bump uglies with you.

-I’m digressing, aren’t I?

My name is Steve. You don’t need to know my last name. Its long, confusing and you’ll never be able to pronounce it anyway. I’m not exactly what you would call a normal person. I wasn’t before that one night and I defiantly wasn’t after either. I say “fuck” a lot and I have no respect for anyone. No one ever made an effort for me so I don’t see why I should ever make an effort for others. I’m not a bad person though, I’m just an asshole. People like me are surprisingly common in today’s society, so don’t think that my cheery outlook on life would hinder me at all.

Tonight my cheery, jaded ass was standing in a park in the middle of a small bridge, overlooking a lake. Since arriving, I’ve been changing my mind about this every five seconds. I spent the better part of an hour making sure to find a nice spot to stand and meet Teto while I still had daylight. Now the sun was gone and I could barely see my hand clearly. The only light being offered would be from the street lights at the other end of the park. I couldn’t do this in a well lit area. No, I just had to go for the spooky bad ass effect on the bridge overlooking a lake in the middle of a park after hours. Its all about the details, and it wouldn’t hurt if it were raining.

When you think of it, setting is important. You can’t tell anyone anything unless its in the right location. Some people are stupid that way. Ghost stories are useless when told in broad daylight with people all around. People aren’t nearly as gullible for ghosts during the day than they are in the middle of the night while camping. Likewise, telling my story would lose all intended effect if I told it to someone while riding that teacup ride in Disney World.

-Or was it Disney Land? I suppose one of the voices in my head could clarify th- FOCUS!

Headlights pulling into the parking lot right before turning off, Teto’s here. Part of me was surprised to see him actually come. Then again, nothing really surprised me anymore. I saw him exit the car and quizzically peer around the park. I suppose it was hard to find me in the middle of a dark park since I was wearing a black trench coat like some kind of creeper, but God dammit if I didn‘t look so awesome with it on.

-All about the details

I started pacing on the bridge hoping Teto would see me, but in large part because I was too lazy to walk over to him then walk all the way back to the bridge. “Hey jackass!” I finally yelled out, which caught his attention. Teto eventually saw me and walked cautiously over onto the bridge. He peered at me still as if I didn’t look familiar. I guess he didn’t recognize me. “It’s me,” I said as he approached. I wondered how many other people he expected there to be at a park this late.

“You’re late,” I said though I doubt he heard me. When he finally reached me, Teto seemed surprised. “You’re wondering why I called you,” I said, not having to look at him to see that shock on his face that I beat him to his own question. “Yeah,” he finally said after a pause.

He had reason to feel weird. We haven’t talked in over three years and now out of the blue I called him and told him to come down to have an important chat. I guess I didn’t question the motive, seeing how it had been over 12 years since I talked to Marshall when he had called me. What was three years by comparison? Though it wasn’t exactly around the block for him to meet me either. He did look much different though.

First of all, Teto does not look anything like a “Teto.” He’s as white as a Caucasian can get, due in much to his brief Goth phase he took to in high school in order to bed a girl who wasn’t exactly at the age of consent (it’s a bit late, but I might as well point out that I don’t really associate with a lot of moral or decent people). Teto’s shaggy brown hair he usually wore was gone, given way for a crew cut for the more business friendly look. The five o’clock shadow he always seemed to have was shaved clean off. It was as if it really wasn’t Teto, but I knew better. He still wore his usual clueless gaze on his face and he still had those glasses he didn’t need in order to pull off the intellectual look. I’m also 98% sure he was first in line to fuck my prom date back then, though I’m not one to hold grudges like that.

We stood in silence for a few moments like retards. It wasn’t getting any warmer tonight and it wouldn’t be long before a cop would ride through and probably kick us out. The park was closed, you know. Normal people wouldn’t be doing what we’re doing. Normal people would meet up at a diner, or at the very least in a bar. I’m sure Teto would be a better listener if he were drunk but God dammit, this requires solitude. Teto was just standing there, waiting for me to say something, as if I was gonna magically reveal something to him. The problem was, I still wasn’t sure what exactly I needed him for. I felt that I would know at this point, which I didn’t. Maybe when I’m finished with the story…

“I guess I just want to tell this story at least once to another person, and I’m a bit low on friends right now.” Teto shot me a sideways glance, this time I bothered to look at him so I wouldn’t come off as arrogant or something. “Sounds like something you’d say on your deathbed,” he said as I felt him think that I may have cancer. I wish.

Cancer, a silly little disease. What I would give to trade what I deal with now in exchange. At least with cancer people can understand that what you have is a disease. What I have now, people would be more inclined to think I’m a retarded little boy who needs to get back on his meds, or at least ask me my straitjacket size (in which case, make my size a XXL. I happen to know they make those jackets a little tight, so I could use a little extra room for mine).

-For the love of Christ, would you focus!?

“Are you dying?” Teto finally asked. I chuckled. I didn’t mean to, but it slipped. Probably offended Teto too, but I couldn’t help it. No more death for me, please. Twice was enough but I knew I’d have at least one more in my future, or at least I hope it‘s only one more. I’m assuming I’m even allowed to ever die. And even if I am, I highly doubt my problems would end there.

I knew Teto felt uncomfortable. A call out of the blue then having to meet me in the middle of the night in the middle of a park in the middle of nowhere. I looked at him, trying to study him, trying to figure out what compelled him to actually humor me and meet me here. Was it his home life? Did I provide him a reason to exit his world and leave behind his troubles momentarily? Shit, what the hell was I doing here?

“What’s wrong with you?” he finally said after figuring I ignored his last question. He also thought I was on drugs, which I took offense to. If I were on drugs, I’d have a much sunnier disposition…and we’d be having this meeting at a place with snacks. “You’ll know soon enough,” I said, “I’ve seen a lot of things. And as a result, I can see a lot of things. I know a lot of things I shouldn’t know too.” I could sense Teto’s bewilderment even before it appeared on his face. “Confused?” I asked with a smile. “…The fuck are you talking about?” he asked.

-Oooooo! A chance to show off!

I stared at Teto and concentrated. Eventually the numbers appeared to me. “You will die in exactly 6 years, 2 months, 8 days, 5 hours, 13 minutes and 43 seconds. The last thought that will cross your mind will be “That was an odd thing to say…” and you’ll be wearing a purple hat with a feather in it.” Teto cocked an eyebrow.

“When is the last time you can truly say you were alone?” I asked, “The truth is, you’ve never been alone. Nobody has. They watch you. Invisible to us because we can’t see their world, the world within our world, the realm for shadows, the realm of the dead. Marshall and I have seen these shadows. Seen what they can do to our world if you give them a chance. And let me tell you, they‘re a bunch of angry, destructive assholes if nothing else. All they want to do is fuck shit up and believe me, they do it like it‘s their job, and they make employee of the month every time.”

Teto continued to just stare at me. At least now he was quiet and will pay attention.

* * * * * * *

In case your interested, no, my family does not have a history of mental illness and I don’t do drugs or drink in excess…well, most of the time I don’t. And by the way, I don’t have some sort of weird genetic defect that gives men periods. So now that we’ve taken any psychological shit like that off the table, keep an open mind at what I’m about to tell you.

My parents raised me Catholic and my entire academic career prior to college was spend in private Catholic schools. From pre-K to senior year, they hammered in me all this malarkey about Jesus and God and all this impossible shit that only served to make me think more that there is no higher power rather than reaffirm this “faith” I was suppose to have. So right off the bat I’m not some religious nut who believes in divine intervention or that kind of thing.

There’s no such thing as “normal” so I wont bother bull shitting you about how I was a seemingly normal person before all of this happened. What I was was your typical underachieving college student, although at the time I was seriously considering changing the “student” to “dropout” and dropping the “underachieving” all together since it wouldn’t make any sense. I had actually skipped all my classes that day to ponder whether or not to quit school. I stayed in my room to make that decision with the help of a couple six packs of some cheap, foul tasting beer, a bottle of Jager, some reruns of the Simpsons and a hard drive full of porn. It was probably the best 12 hours of my life. And it was effective, because I arrived at a decision.

By the end of that fateful day, my mind was made up. I was dropping out. College had nothing left for me and I was sick of all the people in it, and they were long since sick of me. I had packed a duffle bag of only the important things I wanted to take with me: my remaining Jager, a toothbrush (I had no toothpaste), my gameboy advanced (even though I hated it), random clothing I could find, a bottle of fabreeze (in the place of laundry), and a few thousand dollars. I wasn’t going home since my parents would probably murder me.

I didn’t know where I was going next. The whole decision to drop out was still kind of fresh and I didn’t place much thought in where I would wander to next. This wasn’t something that could wait, either. I had been hitting up a bunch of people for cash under the guise that I would pay them back real quick, as opposed to leaving forever. If anyone, I figured my old friend, Mel would be willing to give me a place to crash. I just had to, you know, find a way to cover the hundreds of miles between me and the fuckers house.

Here at this fine institute of higher learning, I had lived alone in a double room, The roommate I had at the beginning of the year had decided long before me that college was a waste of time and left. The school never got around to replacing him and as a result, my social life died like a fish out of water. Either way, I was pretty sure no one would miss me, so I didn’t waste time on any sappy, heartfelt goodbyes. I did attempt some last minute tries at one-night stands, all of which failed spectacularly.

I didn’t have much patience for friends or other people in case you haven‘t noticed. It didn’t matter to me now since trying to better my personality here would be useless since I was always wrestling with the idea of leaving. Now I was about to leave for what I thought would be a life of uncertainty and indecision; just like a good ol’ fashion average American. Ironically, the last thing I remember before my world turned to shit was standing in the doorway, about to leave and wondering what the world held for me next.

Then my phone rang.

I checked the display, which told me the number was restricted. I briefly wondered why I insisted to my mother to get a caller ID function for my phone that clearly didn’t work. I didn’t call many people anyway and nobody ever called me, save for my mother every once in a while to wonder why I never call her, before we would proceed to have the same bland conversation anyway.

So I’m staring at my phone now, ringing away, wondering if it’s a sign that I shouldn’t drop out. Perhaps God himself was on the other line, ready to convince me that not only is he as real as I am, but also to stay in school. I mean, c’mon, if God calls you up and says to stay in school, then you stay in school, period. Either that or you cut down on the ecstasy.

Then I did something that’s very out of character-I answered the phone anyway. I never answer a call from a stranger, I don’t know why I decided to start there. Hell, I don’t answer most calls from people I know. Maybe it was because I was momentarily caught up in the humor that God was calling. Perhaps if I ignored the call, this whole mess could’ve been avoided. I could’ve been just another no name faceless college drop out living on a street corner begging for change or working at McDonalds or something. Or maybe I could’ve been living off welfare with a plasma screen TV and a kick ass collection of alcohol in some random apartment, leeching off the economy. That would’ve been nice. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly blend in with that crowd, but I could always give Hip-hop a try…

Doesn’t matter anyway, seeing how I answered the phone like an idiot.

“Hello?”

“Steve? Steve!” The person on the other end said, apparently he was
running. “Holy shit, dude, I’m glad you answered. Its me!“

“Who’s “me?”” I asked.

“Marshall!”

“Sorry, bud. Don’t know ya.”

I didn’t know any Marshall, except one from grammar school. Neither of us were very popular and we stuck together out of necessity. An actual friendship grew out of that but it wasn’t longed for this world. I came from my crazy, religious family and Marshall came from a family of criminals and losers, living from paycheck to paycheck to support the family of 4 boys, since someone forgot to sew the mother‘s vagina shut. The number of children in that family fluctuated frequently since police were always coming over to take one of them to juvenile hall, and eventually the older brothers started knocking women up, so there are anywhere between 6 and 10 children in that house right now.

Anyway, Marshall eventually dropped out of school and started a life down the drain: drugs and such, bunking with his brothers in jail, and eventually he dropped off the map entirely. For all I knew he was dead right now. I highly doubt this was the same Marshall though, seeing how I didn‘t recall giving him a number to a phone I didn‘t even have 12 years ago.

“We were friends 12 years ago. Remember me?”

-There is just no way he’s the same Marshall

The skeptic in me was making a strong argument out of no proof. It was way too unlikely that this Marshall was the Marshall I knew from way back. This had to be some imposter just dropping his name to get my attention. He wasn’t doing a very good job anyway. If he wanted to fool me, he’d drop some tidbit of information that only Marshall might know or something.

“I still remember you had a crush on Alyssa.”

-No one fucking knew that except-

“And now you’re thinking no one fucking knew that except Marshall! Well guess what, numb-nuts? Am I through convincing you its me, cuz this shit can’t wait any longer!”

I damn near almost dropped the phone. Instead I let my arm drop slightly, the phone now cradled near my chin as opposed to my ear. Was this really Marshall? How did he get this number? What shit was he talking about? All these questions ran through my brain while I half listened to the phone. “Listen!” Marshall continued “I can explain all this shit but we need to talk in person. I know which dorm you’re in so just let me in when I get there. I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Don‘t leave me waiting. For the love of Christ, don’t leave me waiting.” Then he hung up, and I stood in silence.

I told no one about Alyssa except for Marshall, and even then, only in passing. And the last time I saw Alyssa, she was six feet under and I was talking to a tombstone. I doubt I made any last minute confessions to her that anyone would overhear, either. So either this was Marshall or some random fucker took a one in a million guess and lucked out. Since he knew that, I didn’t even try to think anymore over how he got my number, or how he knew where I was. Hell, I didn’t even think, I just stood there with a bad feeling in my gut, which oddly reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since about six this afternoon.

After another moment I realized I was still standing in my doorway, duffle bag strapped over my arm and my cell phone in my hand. Most people who lived in my hallway were either out partying or asleep right now, so no one would notice my dumb ass just standing around. Before I could do anything though, my phone started ringing again. The number was also restricted, and yet again I did the unprecedented and answered it, thinking it was Marshall. In retrospect, this was a night where I made a lot of stupid, unprecedented decisions.

“Marshall?”

“Steve! Steeeeeeve! Help me!” A young woman screamed.

“Um…who are you?” I said, caught off guard that yet another unknown person
knew my name.

“No I’m not!”

“Wait…uh-”

“I’m cold and alone! Help me!”

“What…the…f-”

“They dragged me away…They’re gonna come back for me…”

“Listen lady, I don’t know what the fuck you‘re-”

“Steve? Are you alright?”

“I‘m hanging up now.”

“Steve? I can’t hear you! Steve, what was that?”

“I said I’m hanging up now!”

“Steve? Steve? Steve!!!”

I was going to say something else, perhaps a witty way to tell this woman to fuck off, but I couldn’t. I found that I couldn’t even breathe. Then the real pain hit me. I doubled over in agony onto my knees as my chest seemed to freeze on the spot. I tried to scream but no sound came out. My windpipe had sealed itself shut as my body cramped up and my head dropped strait onto the ground. The pain was excruciating as I felt my head trying to implode, then explode, then implode again.

I couldn’t see or breath anymore. Well…I couldn’t see because I was pressing my face into the ground as I struggled, but I still had no explanation for the not breathing part. Last time I checked, cell phone usage wasn’t linked to sudden choking…yet. I then felt as if my organs were being ripped out all at once. My arms instinctively grabbed at my midsection for my organs in case they actually were coming out. I then felt everything go cold and vision began fading to white, but the pain only intensified.

Two things went through my head before everything finally did go white and end:
1-Death by a fucking cell phone?
2-I thought everything was suppose to go black?

So yeah…I just died.