"So I heard you're called Raymond Ebe"
The full-bearded man with tired eyes said after strolling in with his female subordinate.
he had on him a suit, a briefcase, and a really tired appearance, not the best kind but he would have looked very snazzy if he had any hair on him.
his undercovered prostitute who posed as his assistant abused a striped T-shirt by covering it with a leather jacket and tucking in it with a chinos trouser.
I think she was called Martha, or Aorta, ....something ending with Ta, it was really hard to pay attention when the folly of this lady displayed through her poor choice of clothing stole the mojo from the atmosphere.
"I've also heard you've hovered around a fair amount of strange and vague events, some of which led to the loss of lives and properties, mostly lives" he spoke up.
I nodded to prove I acknowledged him acknowledging me, I was too disappointed to spew actual words out I see two-way mirrors in all interrogation rooms except the ones in Adams point it was not impressive, I was dismayed.
"Would you like to indulge me by sharing your little secret, you know, the one with a lot of death in it?"
he went on, he milked his words by adding a few finger gesticulations, he stretched out two of his fingers and placed it in a vertical position, urging me to go on while repeatedly making a do-over gesture.
"Nahhhh I'll pass" I replied with cold indifference.
"What if I said pretty please".
"It'll only worsen the situation".
" work with me son, we're trying to do this little town a favor, you know, make it a better place where people don't necessarily have to dial my line in the middle of the night, asking for help."
"favor huh? if you want to help this town why not get ride of the fashion overkill in human skin you call an assistant," I pointed at saint Martha " she makes Elton John look cool, like who the fuck covers an item of corporate clothing with a leather jacket? doesn't that look sort of offensive?".
I stared at his deputy while trying to find more comfort on the wooden mess they made me believe was a chair. I was still putting on a hardcore demeanor when my stomach rumbled.
" look it seems you're still not aware of where you are, let me remind you I'm the guy that asks the questions around here Okay!,
now how bout we get you something to eat. you look like you collect alms from beggars, that way, we'll be doing you a favor and in return, you'll give us what we need."
he recognized my impoverished condition, my worn-out polo shirt sold me out, enough proof to show that a 3 square meal was something I didn't eat regularly.
"No chief, how bout you get me a lil Winnie the pool plastic figurine, and a kiddies lunch box, because you know what? I fucking look like a six-year-old, who the Lord has placed a table before filled with a banquet of misplaced priorities, I'm sure when you look at me you see a person that can be easily bribed. and with food? do I look like Tarrare?
If I needed to eat something I would have gone for your mom."
I arrogantly replied within a few seconds of releasing my repressed rage cause really a hungry man is an angry man.
The chief remained unmoved like he's heard words like that a thousand time he adjusted himself a bit on his fancy office chair and signaled his female subordinate to treat me the same way they treated every other esteemed guest, she walked from behind the door the place she had been standing, she wore a stern look on her face as she approached me menacingly with full force, the light-skinned lady had her hands fixed in her leather jacket like she was hiding something, the thuds her boots made while she approached me indicated that she was fully aware of what her mission was, she knew I anticipated a bloody nose attack, so she tried to put me at ease by placing her hand on my shoulder I knew I was in peril but my mind was drawn back to the comfort of life by her soft touch, and then she tased me with the electric taser she's been keeping in her jacket pocket. The fucking bitch betrayed me with her reassuring looks. it was her own way of paying me back for disparaging her.
"Let me take this rather brief moment to introduce you to our dark angel.....pretty face, deadly attitude,
Now that we're done with the pleasantries are you willing to talk?, or would you like her to solve God's maths issues by removing you from the equation?. ....we tried it the easy way, you give obstinacy a much more complex definition."
the chief said after he became aware of my quick recovery from the attempted assassination his overpriced black widow carried out on me.
"You're quite dumb for a 50-year-old man. did you fucking think a kiddie's toy would break me? you're a fucking proof that wisdom doesn't come with age".
I said while laughing stylishly with several drops of saliva spurting out of my mouth,
she tased me again and again, then she stopped I was about to utter another set of appraisal words then she resumed her work again then I fell apart.
I woke up still In the same shitty environment which slightly evolved like an itsy little bit, they had a TV set in front of me, a couple of pictures containing few ladies I recognized and a guy, a bloody note, and some chopped off fingers still stuck in an evidence bag, the chief was smiling his deputy still trying her best to act cool and subtle I got confused, my head was very light I couldn't feel my brain in there, I was trying my best to piece reality together when my eyes caught hold of an empty syringe and a broken container of sodium thiopental, was I drugged?, FUCK YOU ERNEST VOLWILER for inventing the truth serum, I should have known something like this would happen, the chief was too relaxed for someone who needed answers urgently I bowed my head down I knew we were all done for.
The chief played the set, his sole purpose was to mock me if only he knew what he has gotten himself into if only he knew what he had done to Adams point.
The screen of the blank tv set illuminated with moving pictures I heard myself pouring out my first encounter with the force of the unknown, I didn't want to share what I experienced a few weeks ago, the thing I had an encounter with had no formal name, he didn't walk in the physical realm, his presence could only be summoned through dreams, visions, and anything with the ability to pronounce his name, no one could define who he was, they don't usually live long to describe him after an encounter, I never saw him physically the bloody paper on the table and what it contained were enough to let me bury my experience with my past, he didn't haunt little kids no only pedophiles do that, he went after things bigger than toddlers, he went after adults.
********* ********* *************
The credibility of this little conceptual tale can only be affirmed by the victims of such misfortune.
Rhita, first existed as an imaginary character a trick played on the mind, a gimmick employed to scare the crap out of little children, you know the old
"if you don't eat your veggies Rhita would tear through the fabric of your dreams and eat you whole".
That was a charm that worked every single time, and how did I know this? Isabelle was proof, she fell for such every fucking time while growing up,
I couldn't help but laugh at her as I watched in amazement while she scurried in haste to complete her previously aborted task.
Those were the golden age, she was just 6, a gullible lass she was. But after adding 10 more years to her age things weren't fun anymore, she was like a full-fledged adult, her thick mind and heavy chest made it convincingly difficult to believe she was just 16. But reality shares something similar with magic, they both contain a wholesome amount of misdirection and sometimes disappointment.
I stared at their 25-year-old bungalow house which was just across the street for over an hour, with my eagle vision that I purchased from a pawn shop for as low as $5 I was able to pierce through the thick fog that enveloped the whole main street of Adams Point, it was fun the thrill in me wouldn't let my eyes stay off their bathroom, hopefully, I'll get to see one of the two women in their abode fully undressed, well don't blame me I narrowly escaped the long line of sexual perversion that was drawn across my family tree. My eyes gazed upon something jaw-dropping, what was recorded on the surface of my mind shrunk all manliness in me, a bloody palm hi-fived the bay window from the inside leaving a blood print on the glass before the hand dissolved back into the deem light it was accompanied by intense moaning a sound that lasted for about five seconds, was it just me or was the sonority very appealing? I had only a few things in life, one of which was an extensive knowledge of Isabelle's family, this knowledge never supported incest so as impossible as it is to see a rainbow-colored horse same was with Isabelle holding an intimate relationship with any of her family members so waltzing in on them having a close brotherly and sisterly affair with both parties being all handsy is quite impossible...
"then what the fuck was going on!".....
I left my house and crossed the street that stretched uphill, I moved casually I for once wanted to know what was transpiring inside, and the sound I heard earlier really aroused me till I made it a life mission to be involved in whatever was going on, surprisingly the sound was quite audible I mean not that loud but it should have definitely grabbed the attention of streetwalkers but sadly it didn't everything was quite serene worst of all it seemed like Friday the 13th, empty street, foggy morning, and a mentally unstable adult about to kick down a door in his neighborhood, I must admit that was a really rude thing to do, kicking down doors is something reserved for the men in blue when a raid is about to be staged, but if you've retained such desire for 43 years trust me you won't want to miss such an opportunity.
As the door swung wide open I was a bit disappointed I didn't receive the kind of standing ovation I envisaged earlier, I thought everyone loves Raymond, but mother nature still deserves much of my appreciation she always recognizes my presence, a gust of dust greeted me warmly it did a number on my ox blood colored T-shirt with a detailed material of silk origin, my attire was once the talk of the town in 1940, back then the fashion sense that promoted clothing lines were as low as the IQ of a donkey. Luckily for me, I wasn't born.
I stepped into the house, that very action became life-changing, the moment my foot left the doorstep and made the final landing on the welcome rug inside the middle-class titan they call a house it seemed like I was transferred from 5 am to 9 pm within split seconds.
Darkness isn't what you see when you switch off the light, darkness isn't what you see when you look at the night sky, for the first time in my life something abstract other than love and hate could be felt, this was true darkness!.
The room was quiet I couldn't see a single thing but the dead silence was enough to educate me on the utter emptiness that covered the room, I quickly brought out my phone shivering in fear I couldn't find the path through which i came into the house, I struggled to get a grip on it when I finally did I switched on the torch light I pointed it towards all and every direction almost as if I was preparing to dodge an attack, it wasn't very hard to chase the darkness away after turning around severally while walking, i stumbled upon what retained the potentials to blight my mind with a gory image, a lady mutilated beyond recognition rocking an arm chair, she had a pole sticking out of her abdomen accompanied with her intestine which kept on designing the night garment she had on her with blood it was almost as if an octopus got killed in her with its tentacles sticking out and the weapon used in doing so got stuck half way through, her death was beyond the ordinary, she had a paper on her lap on it were written words, aside that being the only element visible she had blood everywhere some still dripping from the place her eyes used to be she was bald to the scarp, the surface was soaked with thick pasty blood that kept on attracting pesty little house flies, few strands of hair were still mounted on top the oval structure i soon recognized as a head someone provoked a barber. The squeaking sound the old armchair kept on making was enough to send series of chills down my spine, it was as if I took a vacation in a morgue, and "The Nun" was the receptionist. I took few steps back my heart was racing like a formula one car, I wasn't a canine but I didn't need receptors on the top of my nose to perceive evil.
I was on the verge of calling a toll free number just to raise awareness and arise help, before my very eyes the bars in my cell phone ran down, it made my blood run cold I was still swimming in a pool of confusion then the lady moved, she tilted her head as if she was analyzing my essence,
"Rosemary fucking moved her head!, she was dead not long ago but she ain't no more, Jesus christ who the fuck wakes up after being brutally murdered", I said this to myself while hastily making my way towards thicker layers of darkness in fear.