Grey King of the Debb
It's terrible, and to be honest I've never actually watched a full episode of the Twilight Zone, but I just wrote this ten minutes ago. I hope you all like it!
It was late, and I still had yet to fall asleep. Rolling over in my bed, I looked at my alarm clock, as its digital numbers flashed before changing to 5:35. I knew I wouldn't’t get to sleep again, so I threw my legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed my eyes. I hadn’t been getting much sleep over the last few weeks, due to constant nightmares. Unlike normal dreams, where a scene plays out, these nightmares were just flashes of my son Gabriel. I could hear his muffled voice, but it was as if he was a mile away and screaming; you could hear it, and knew he was saying something, but you could never make out just what it was.
I didn’t mind the lack of sleep, since I worked at home, I could take a nap whenever the tiredness overtook me. Ever since Gabriel’s father died when he as eight years old, I used the life insurance sum, which was above a million dollars, and played the stock market to earn a living. I had a graduate degree in finance, so it was nothing new to me, and I knew my family would be financially safe for the rest of my life. Making myself a cup of tea, I waited patiently for the morning paper to arrive, which it did promptly at 6:00. I sat at the kitchen table reading the paper and drinking my tea for around an hour, before my two children came rushing down the stairs, clearly in a hurry to get to school. Gabriel, who was seventeen, came in and gave me a kiss on the cheek, while his sister, Jennifer, grabbed them a few poptarts for the road. “Bye mom,” Jennifer said to me, as she ran out the door.
Them being late for school was nothing new; after all, the pair slept through homeroom most of the time. I was never mad at them for it, though. They’re good kids, who get good grades, never get in trouble, and eat their vegetables. Before I knew it, it was midday, and I could feel the bags under my eyes. Lying on the couch, I flipped on the TV and watched it until I dazed into the dream world, where that same dreams—the flashes of my son—haunted me. This time, however, the flashes lasted longer, allowing me to see them. I understood everything he said, too.
“Jimmy Rolland’s locker.” He said, over and over again. It was as if he was a recording, or a hologram, programmed to only show and say one thing. His cheeks were covered in some sort of red substance, but what it was I couldn’t decipher. The flashes lasted just long enough for me to hear, before it flashed again. I awoke with a start, as the front door banged shut, and in came my daughter, Jennifer. She smiled at me, happy that I had finally gotten some sleep. She knew how tired I had been lately, and had asked me if there was anything she could do to help. I, of course said, as any reasonable mother would, not to worry about me.
Later that night I said goodbye to my children as they left the house. It was Friday, so Jennifer and Gabriel had both made plans to go to the movies with their friends. Gabriel had said he was going to meet his date there, which wasn’t odd in the least. He never bought a girlfriend back home, since he knew it would never last, so what was the point? He was a one-date wonder: he’d go out with the girl, nitpick everything that was bad about her, and then dump her.
I ordered some Chinese food, and waited patiently for it to come. I rarely ever went out with friends anymore, for they were busy with work and the like. Friday nights for me were very rehearsed: take out food, and the Friday night movie that showed on the local cable station. It was never a good movie, but it was something to enjoy. The bell rang about forty-five minutes after I had ordered the food, which was nothing special as they restaurant was usually always late. Grabbing the money, I skipped to the door, never expecting what was about to happen. Opening the door, I noticed, instead of the Chinese delivery boy, a local policeman. My stomach in knots, I said, “Hello, Officer, is there a problem?”
“Mrs. Quinn?” The officer said, voice soft and sorrowful.
“Yes?” I questioned, a pang of nervousness rising in my stomach.
The officer took off his cap, looking down at the ground as he said, “It’s your son Gabriel…he was killed tonight, by a gunshot wound to the chest. I’m…I’m sorry.”
“No.” I said, not wanting to believe it. How could he be gone? I just saw him a little less than an hour ago. “That can’t be true, there must be some sort of mistake.”
“No mistake, ma’am. I’m sorry.” He said, as I fell down to the floor, sobbing. My precious baby boy was gone. How? Why? Why would this world take him from me? “I know this is going to be hard to answer, Ma’am, especially at a time like this, but is there any information that you can give me? Did anyone have a vendetta, or a dislike for your son that you know of?”
“Jimmy Rolland’s locker.” I don’t know what it was, and I can’t explain it exactly, but something forced me to say those words. It was as if something inhabited me, and said those words for me. It was the strangest, most incredible feeling I had ever had in my life; it filled me with both joy and anxiety, at a time in which I should feel nothing but sadness and grief.
“What did you say, Mrs. Quinn?” The officer asked, having not heard what I said.
“Check Jimmy Rolland’s locker.” I repeated, this time, however, it was of my own doing. The office could see something was wrong, but thought it was just my grief. He nodded an began to walk away, but stopped as I blurted, “He goes to school with my son.”
“Did he and your son have a problem with one another?” He questioned.
“I…. I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have, that’s all.” I answered, honestly. I had nothing but my dream to go on, and I doubted I wouldn't’t be sent of to an asylum if I told him the truth. He nodded again, and hopped in his patrol car and left in a hurry.
Later that night, as my daughter and I grieved for Gabriel, that same officer came back. Under his better judgment, he had checked Jimmy Rolland’s locker and found a box of bullets of the gun that killed Gabriel in it. That was enough to get a rushed search warrant for his home, where they raided it and found the gun. Jimmy admitted his crimes; not understanding how they had found out it was him. The officer admitted to me that they would have never found Gabriel’s killer if it wasn’t for me. Which is poetic justice, because I would have never been able to tell them who the killer was if it weren’t for my dreams.
The only thing thats with you your whole life is complete and utter darkness.
Last edited by Darth Macabre on Apr 26th, 2007 at 08:36 AM