Dear Sleep

by Kim Dickerson

  “Oh, John! I don’t even know what happened. We went to bed and, in the middle of the night, I awoke to Tom thrashing in bed, screaming bloody murder. There wasn’t anyone there. I didn’t see anyone, but I-I-I just don’t know.”

  “Joan, I’m so sorry! Do the police have any idea what happened?”

  “No! They don’t know a damned thing. I just don’t know. And the kitchen, what the hell happened in the kitchen?! It was like this when I walked down here because the damned cordless phone upstairs wouldn’t work. I was completely horrified. I just remember wishing we had a gun so I could protect us.” She suddenly went quiet she looked lost in thought. “I did find something weird on the bedroom floor while I was waiting for the ambulance to get here.” She reached in her sweater pocket and pulled out what looked like a tooth. “I think it’s a tooth, but it doesn’t look, well it doesn’t look human.”

  John’s heart stopped.

  He wanted to hold the tooth. He knew instantly where it came from. His secret beast was careless. It left something behind and he was pretty sure it never left anything behind. He reached out to touch it, but he couldn't force himself to do it.

  “When did you guys get a dog?” he looked around feigning interest, but he knew they never had a dog.

  “We don’t have a dog! That’s why I’m so confused. I need to give this to the police. Excuse m-“

  He cut her off before she could finish. “Here, Joan, give it to me, I’ll take care of it for you.”

  He already made the decision to pocket this item because something in his gut told him giving it to the police would be a mammoth mistake.

  He had to get back to Marlie. She was probably pacing the house waiting for him to come home.

  “If there’s anything we can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. Joan, I’m so sorry.”

  He hugged and she placed the tooth in his hand. She was visibly relieved to be rid of it. His skin began to crawl the moment he made contact with it. He stuffed it in his sweatshirt pocket immediately.

  “Thanks, John. If you could just keep an eye out around the neighborhood, it would be great. I just have this feeling that someone killed Tom. Murdered him.”

  She burst into tears and clutched him while he hugged her. He motioned to one of the officers to come over so that he could slip away.

  John slid out the door as quickly as possible. He felt the evil lingering in that house. He rushed past the large crowd gathered in the street so that he could get back to the safety of his own home. He knew Marlie had a million questions.

  She was waiting for him just on the other side of the door. She must have seen him crossing the street. He felt the tooth in his sweatshirt pocket as it pulsated against his stomach. It was a sickening feeling, but he couldn’t let on that anything was out of the ordinary.

  “John? John? What’s the matter? What happened? Joan? Tom? JOHN!”

  He grabbed her and hugged her close to him. “Tom’s….Tom is gone, babe.”

  “Oh my God! What happened?”

  “No one knows yet. The police don’t have a clue and Joan was just a wreck. All she said was she woke up to Tom thrashing and screaming in bed.” he left the little tidbit about the tooth out. He couldn’t tell anyone about the tooth.

  Marlie broke into sobs. They weren’t that close to Joan and Tom. They were neighbors, they’ve had them over for dinner a few times and vice versa, but other than that. They were just neighbors. He was shocked that someone they knew, within walking distance, was dead.

  He changed after that day.

  Even with the commotion across the street, John still went to work. He tried to go on with his life as if he didn’t know what he did. He saw clients, kept his appointments, and had lunch with Marlie. He led a normal day, all the while thoughts flooded his head of the tooth and the black dog.

  Eventually the thoughts started to diminish. He hadn’t seen the beast. They ruled Tom’s death to be natural causes, an aneurysm burst in his brain. He had tucked the tooth away in his home office in a locked drawer. He had the same sleepless nights, although now he kept the shades in his office drawn. He had no desire to look out the window anymore. Even though the memory of that wretched night had faded and most of the time he had forgotten about the tooth, the picture of the black dog still lingered in the wee hours.

  Joan put the house up for sale. She couldn’t bear to be there without Tom. Other than that, life was back to normal.

  Work went off without a hitch. He took Marlie out for a fabulous, romantic dinner. They came home, plunked down on the sofa, and watched some foreign film Marlie rented. He wasn’t into those things, but it made her happy so he watched them. After the movie, they went to bed. He cuddled with her until he knew she was asleep, and then slowly slid out of bed and headed to his office. There he sat, in his office with ESPN on in the background.

  The wind was beginning to stir outside, sounded like a storm was brewing. He opened the shades. He loved a good storm.

  The trees were whipping in the wind and he thought he heard the soft rumble of thunder in the distance. It was going to be a whopper of a storm. His bliss was short lived when he looked out the window. He noticed the streetlights were flickering.

  “God-damned streetlights.”

  He convinced himself that it was just the trees that made the shadows dance on the sidewalks.

  Before long, his friend, the beast with the swirling eyes, made his appearance. John knew it was coming. Suddenly, his office filled with a sickening, sour light. The television turned to snow, and his desk began to thrum. The sound was annoying, but he was unable to pinpoint where it was coming from. He turned back to the window and the beast smiled at him. His skin started to crawl.

  He knew what he had to do. It was going to kill again if he didn't stop it.

  How? How was he going to stop it?

  His accountant’s mind was a rational thinker. His mind was screaming at him to stop the emotional bull because there was no logical way he could stop that thing. It was not of this world, there was no way he could kill it.

  “Screw logic,” he puffed out. He had to do something.

  He scrambled to get out of his chair at lightning speed, and deftly grabbed the key to the locked drawer.

  The key wouldn’t work.

  He couldn't get it to turn the tumbler in the lock.

  He scanned the area to find something to use to pry the drawer open. He grabbed his putter and took a whack at the drawer. He left a dent but it didn’t pop open like in the movies. He struck it again, this time he felt his adrenaline pumping. He felt super-human. He hit the lock dead on and heard the clink of the lock starting to give way. He took one last shot. If that didn’t do it, he would have to go to the garage and get a screwdriver. Completely unconscious of the noise he made, John rammed the head of the putter hard into the drawer front, so hard the handle bent. It was music to his ears when he heard the wood of the drawer crack, then he heard footsteps in the hallway. His eyes were wild and he was sweating. Quickly, he attempted to come up with a plausible story for Marlie. The footsteps got closer. His heart was hammering in his ears. The television was still snowy and the wind was really howling outside now. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the streetlights were out. He was too late to do anything now. The hound from Hell has already made his strike.

  The footsteps stopped outside the door. He tried desperately to calm his breathing. He panicked in his head. What am I going to tell her?

  That was a huge ruckus. As he saw the doorknob turn, it came to him. He grabbed his head and yowled in pain just as the door opens.

  “John?” She slowly poked her head in. It was almost as if she was afraid of what she was going to find. Her eyes were wide. She was scared. “John? You okay in here?”

  “Marlie, is that you?”

  “Yeah,” she said tentatively. “What’s going on in here? I was sound asleep then I heard some loud crashing sounds. Scared me half to death.”

  “I
fell asleep in my chair. I must have been sleeping well because I slumped forward and hit my head on the desk. It startled me, I moved too fast, whacked my knee on the desk trying to get up, my feet slid on the floor, and I fell over and smashed the back of my head into the drawer. I have one hell of a headache, but I’m fine.” He waited in silence to see if she’s going to buy it.

  “God John, you scared the hell out of me! You need to learn to sleep in bed! I’ll get some ice.”

  He breathed a deep sigh of relief. There was no doubt on her face whatsoever. He glanced out the window. The streetlights were dark and the storm was really roaring now. Crashes of thunder and lightning strikes were cascading across the midnight sky. His head really was killing him. He thought it was the notion of what was going on inside someone’s house at that very moment.

  Someone was dying. Someone was murdered in his neighborhood and there was nothing he could do about it. The self-loathing began. He could have stopped it, if he hadn’t been such an idiot and made so much damn noise.

  Marlie returned with the ice. “Come to bed and let me ice your noggin. I swear, John, you have no equilibrium!”

  He followed her willingly, trying to forget what was happening. He tried to put out of his mind what his damn insomnia forced him to witness.

  As he climbed into bed with Marlie, all he thought of was the action he should have taken. He failed someone he didn't even know. He heard screaming, pleading, in his head. Then he heard a sinister voice, he never made out what it was saying, but he knew he heard it. It was not a figment of his imagination. His body erupted into gooseflesh and he shivered. Marlie placed the ice pack on the back of his head and pressed her body to his. Luckily for him, she seemed to think the gooseflesh was a product of the ice.

  About four in the morning, he started to drift off to sleep, cool water dripped down his neck from the ice pack as it melted. Marlie fell back to sleep, he felt her rhythmic breathing. He tried to fall asleep with a blank mind. He hoped the ominous voice stayed out of his head. He slipped into a restless sleep.

  He awoke to Marlie shaking him vigorously. “John. John?”

  He opened his eyes groggily. “What? Huh?”

  She let out a sigh of relief. “I thought you went into a coma because you had a concussion from hitting your head. I don’t think you’ve ever slept this long since we’ve been married. How’s the head?”

  He was still out of it. He was sleeping hard, in fact, he was a little annoyed at being awoken.

  “My head is fine,” he paused. Why the hell was she asking him about his head he thought? Then, the light shone. “Head is great, doesn’t hurt at all.”

  “Time to get ready for work, Sleepyhead.”

  He looked around groggily, not sure what time it was, or what was going on. He smiled sleepily and conceded, “Alright, Miss Bossy. I’m going.”

  He climbed out of bed and headed to the shower. As he was walking, he flashed on what happened. It stopped him in his tracks. Marlie had gone to the kitchen, so he quietly made a right out of the door instead of a left to the shower. He crept like a child sneaking out of their bedroom to see if Santa Claus had come, only without the joyous surprise at the end of the journey. The end of this jaunt promised one of two things, nothing at all, or more wickedness.

  John painstakingly opened the door so slowly that it seemed to take an hour before he could enter his office. He didn't want Marlie to hear him. As far as she was concerned, he was in the bathroom and he was completely fine with that. He didn't know what he was looking for in there, but he needed to find out what happened last night. He surveyed the damage he did with his putter, his favorite putter. The bottom drawer of his desk was splintered and the room was heavy with a foul stench. It made him retch. He treaded softly to the window and warily peered out, terrified about what he might find.

  As he looked up and down the street, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. At first glance, the street looked normal. The sun was shining bright in the crystal blue spring sky and the birds were busily building their nests to start the circle of life anew. All of the manicured lawns are in their spring splendor with dots of color splashed throughout the neighborhood, all signs of the impending summer. He saw a stray cat wandering the sidewalk. The poor thing looked haggard, completely out of place in what looked like the perfect spring-scape.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, no police cruisers, or ambulances, in sight. He must have been dreaming, but that couldn't be possible. If he was dreaming, why was his drawer splintered and his putter bent like a pretzel? The answer made him ill, he wasn’t dreaming he was wide-awake. That damn tooth was still in his drawer and the images from last night are still fresh in his mind. He could see them like an old silent film, the dancing demons in the streetlights, the beast emerging, and that vile smile.

  A bit of time passed and he still found himself staring out the window. He wondered what havoc the vile creature wreaked in the small hours of the morning. He couldn’t have just shown himself, could he? Of course, he had a plan. His mind started racing. What direction was he headed? Did he even notice, or was he too busy beating the hell out of his desk drawer?

  All of this had to wait; he had to take a shower before Marlie suspected something. Maybe he’d call in today. Until this conundrum was solved, it wasn’t as if he would be able to concentrate on work anyhow. He made an executive decision to play hooky and not tell Marlie. He had to leave and feign the drive into work, since she always left after him. He felt a little guilty leaving his darling wife in the dark about this, but she would think he was insane if she had known what he was up to. So he stepped into the shower and attempted to keep up the façade of going to work.

  The shower felt good. It washed away some of the funk from the previous evening. He headed into the kitchen for breakfast.

  “I thought I was going to have to call in the Coast Guard to rescue you from the shower! Feel better?”

  “Yep, fit as a fiddle, as your dad would say. What’s for breakfast?”

  “Homemade cinnamon rolls, your mom’s recipe.”

  Those were his favorite. He wolfed one down and grabbed one for the road. Being devious made this man hungry. John hopped into the Range Rover and backed out of the driveway under the guise of going to work. As soon as he rounded the corner, he flipped open the cell and called the office. Kathy answered in her usual chipper way.

  “Good morning! Schellinger and Hoffman. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning to you too, Kathy, it’s John. How’re you doing this fine morning?”

  “Oh! Hey there, Fearless Leader! All’s quiet on the front so far. What do you need?”

  “Kathy, I’m not going to make it in today. I had a long night last night, and need some time today to shake it off. Can you reschedule the Ditman appointment for later this week and tell Earl I’ll give him a ring later to check in?”

  “Sure thing. Is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, everything is fine Kathy. Thanks! See you tomorrow.”

  “Have a good day, Mr. Schellinger.”

  He snapped the phone shut feeling a little more than guilty, but he deserved some time off anyway. It wasn’t tax season. The guilt was more about the lies by omission he handed Marlie. He couldn’t remember ever lying to her.

  He decided to drive around the neighborhood while he waited for Marlie to head to work. He knew the route she took out of the subdivision so he avoided it. As he drove around, he noticed some strange marks in one of the yards. They sort of looked like tire tracks, but there was something wrong about them. They were much too deep to be some teenager turfing a lawn and there weren’t any tread marks. They didn’t begin at the street either. It was almost as if someone, or something, had dropped the car in the middle of the lawn and then lifted it out the same way it was dropped.

  He did not know the people who lived there, so he was hesitant about knocking on the door. He felt very nervous and his stomach began to churn. He woefully looked at the sec
ond cinnamon roll he absconded with this morning. He knew that he would never get to taste its gooey sweetness. He went around the block another time. He argued with himself about whether or not he was going to check out the peculiar marks in the yard of strangers. He knew there was no winning end to this discussion; he parked at the curb and sat for a moment.

  “What are you going to say, John? When you knock and they open the door, considering they actually open the door, just what are you going to say? ‘Hi! I was driving by and noticed some weird marks in your yard. I was wondering if you saw a big black dog come in and try to kill you.’

  “Yeah, that’s what you’re going to say, then they’re going to call the police and you’re going to the loony bin. Come on, John. Be realistic, you can’t just walk up to a stranger’s door.

  “Yes, you can. And you’re going to do exactly that because you need to know that everyone in there is all right. You’ll come up with a reason.”

  His mind began to cook up plausible stories to impart to the stranger on the other side of the door. He was jogging and he twisted his ankle, could he use your phone? No, no not jogging, He was wearing dress pants. He had a flat tire and his wife took the four-way out of his car, did they have a lug wrench? Only problem was he didn't have a flat tire, nor do he have a way to flatten one to make the story credible. He had an epiphany! He had a leash in the back from when he was taking care of his folks’ dog while they were on vacation.

  He tentatively got out of the car and ambled to the back, swung open the back door, and grabbed the leash. How ironic. He was going to use a lost dog ploy to find out if the demon dog had been there. He chuckled weakly and turned toward the house. It worked out that he didn’t need the leash. The front door was half-open.

  He put the leash back in the Range Rover, went back to the driver’s side, and grabbed his phone. He dialed 911 and called the police. His heart was hammering in his chest, being a Good Samaritan had always come easily to him. This time, it made him nervous since he lied to his wife and took a day off from work. It had to be done; he couldn't just walk in there. Or could he? There was no one around. The streets were empty with the exception of a few cars heading to work, but even those were rare. He hit end call on his cell, looked around to make sure no one was coming, and headed toward the half-open door.