When we left our story last time:
“Hello?” I asked praying that it was a bill collector. “You…you worthless drunk…you maniac…you murdering bastard.” came over the line in a voice I had been replaying in my head for hours. “You bastard! YOU KILLED ME!! You! My murderer! You! My executioner! I will be with you…your eternity is mine…you killed me…your death awaits…your soul is stained with mine…fear my wrath…” taunted the voice as the line went dead. I began trembling again with earnest. I was shaking so bad that I could barely get the phone back into the cradle. I cursed and ran towards the sink as I vomited what little I had left in my stomach.
And Today, we resume:
After a while I had regained some semblance of control and I turned the television back on trying to drown out the memory of the ghostly voice.
The news was on and running an in depth story on the hit and run murder of a local man wanted in the drunk driving murder of another drunk driver. Alcohol as also suspected in this murder. I quickly changed channels and another station was covering the murder. I changed the channel again. More murder stories. On every station that my old television could receive there was news of the murder. All channels, all news, all murder.
I turned the tv off, still feeling nauseous. I decided to try the radio after the cd player wouldn’t work. There was no music on any station. All stations, all news, all murder.
One station in particular had the breaking story about, “…a heinous murder by the worst sort of scum, a drunk driver.” I couldn’t get away from this. I knew something strange was going on. The voice kept echoing in my head, “…murderer…murderer…murdering drunk…”
Three days passed in much the same manner as the first. I attempted to sleep. I attempted to eat. I could do neither. I couldn’t stand the phone ringing anymore and ended up leaving it off of the hook. Even so, I could still hear the haunting voice.
I turned on the television several times only to find more news of the killing. Every channel still had the news. Sometime during the second day I threw my favorite chair into the picture tube, shattering it and the haunting images.
The radio was just as bad. Only news and the voice. There was no distraction to be found. The voice was everywhere. The news was everywhere, an endless barrage of news over an event that would have netted a total of five minutes of air time anywhere else. Why was this happening to me?
The voice was still insistent. It just wouldn’t leave me alone. “Leave me alone!” I screamed at the walls. “Leave me the hell alone! Let me be! LET ME ALONE DAMN YOU!!” The voice just kept coming, more haunting and louder each time. I tried to sleep each night and the voice would reach an unbearable volume, shouting, “MURDERER! MURDERING DRUNK!!! KILLER!!!” I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t hear anything beyond the voice. I was too scared to eat. I couldn’t escape the guilt. I was a prisoner in my own house.
I decided to turn myself in on the dawn of the fourth day. I picked up the phone and dialed the number of the local police station. As I placed the receiver to my ear, the disembodied voice screamed it’s litany of horror severing the connection. I was losing my mind.
By sunset of that fourth day I was exhausted, starving and quite mad. I stumbled toward the stairs and my bed thinking that sheer exhaustion would help me to sleep. I had begun muttering myself, my ramblings mimicking those of the voice on the phone and in my head. “Murd…I murder…mmmmuuuurrrrdddeeeerrrreerrr…me murder…” I reached the top stair and tripped. I just laid there muttering for a while. Finally, I managed to get up and stumble to my bed where I collapsed again.
I had finally fallen asleep and the voice became a booming thunderclap. “MURDERER!!! MURDERER!!! MURDERER, I COME FOR YOU!!!” I was instantly awake and screaming. I turned towards the door and screamed louder as it flung itself open, allowing an icy wind to enter along with the wailing scream that had been my companion for the past three days. Then the object of my horror floated through the open door.
The ghostly presence of the man that I had killed stared straight through me. He then smiled wickedly and whispered, “Murderer!” as he raised an ephemeral finger at me. I screamed again and scrambled off of the bed, attempting to back away from this figure. I backed into a wall and began to move slowly to my right. Then the pressure let up and there was simply no wall.
I looked around and realized I had come to the window and it had broken with my weight. I was falling the twenty feet to the ground. I continued screaming until I hit. There were several sharp pains that accompanied several loud snapping noises in my chest and arm. I knew several ribs and my left arm was broken. I gritted my teeth against the pain and stood, relieved that my legs still worked. I began to run.
Join us next week for the finale of “Death With A Vengeance”. I will be offering this story as an e-book next Saturday after the finale posts. Please Sign Up for my Newsletter for details before they are available anywhere else. Thanks for reading, see you next week!
The Rest Of the Story:
Part 1 Starts Here!
Part 2 Continues Here!
Part 3 Is Here!
Part 4 right here!
And Part 5 Is Here!