reply to post by Skid Mark
“The neighbors heard the shots and called the police. I was put into foster care until the Sturgeons adopted me. We moved from Oklahoma to Indiana
that year. They thought that it would be best if I grew up in another state. That way, I could start new and the kids at school wouldn’t make my
life hell by dredging up all those memories.”
Ron sat for a moment, letting it all sink in. It was so horrible. “How-That’s so…I don’t know what to say. How did you get through
“I had to. I couldn’t let it destroy me. I had nightmares for years. They finally went away after a while. That is until I started dreaming
of killing you kids and your mom.”
“Did she know about what happened?”
Walt shook his head. “No. I never told her. I just wanted to forget it.”
“So, what do we do now?”
“I think I found a way to beat it. Let’s go to my place and I’ll show you.”
They walked four blocks to Walt’s house in silence. It was the middle of December and their breath smoked out of their mouths and nostrils. Walt
led the way to a blue town house and unlocked the door, holding it open and followed Ron inside.
“Why don’t you have a seat. I’ll go get us some coffee.”
Ron sat and Walt went down the hall, into the kitchen.
“What did you find,” Ron asked when he came back.
Walt picked a book up off the coffee table and held it out to him. “It’s all in here. Go ahead and read it. I’ll go see if the coffee’s
Ron sat, absorbed in the book. Walt went to the kitchen and filled two cups, adding sugar and creamer to one. “Do you want cream and
Walt added cream and sugar to the other, then pulled a brown pill bottle from his pocket.
They sat and drank their coffee while Ron read. Walt excused himself, saying that he had to use the restroom. The room seemed to grow colder while
he was gone.
What did he do? Turn off the heat?
“You know, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”
Ron looked up at the sound of his father’s voice. It sounded different. He’d changed since he’d left the room. Walt’s cheek bones looked
sunken and his eyes stared out from deep sockets. He looked like an inmate from a concentration camp that he’d seen in a picture once. His black
lips peeled back from long yellow teeth. Ron tried to get up and the room spun. He made it to his feet and collapsed to the floor. He’d been
“You’ve always been a good boy. So good. I’m so hungry!”
Ron blinked and tried to clear his head. The room was growing dark. “What…” He never finished the sentence. The room gave one last spin.
Darkness claimed him.
Walter Sturgeon began to eat.