The grandfather clock in the corner strikes
midnight as Dave pours himself another three fingers of whiskey. He sits in his
overstuffed chair next to the fireplace in his den. He stares into the fire
sipping his whiskey. The ice cubes clink in the glass as he pulls it from his
lips.
His phone rings in the entry hall. He sets his
glass down, getting up from his chair. He’s probably one of the few people in
the world that still has a landline because he refuses to answer his cell at
home. Only his friends and family have his home number.
The phone rings louder as he walks out of the den.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Dave walks over to the small table between the double
stair case and picks the phone up. “This is Dave.” Nobody is on the other line.
“Hello?” Still nothing so he hangs the phone up.
The phone rings again, Dave looks at the phone,
his eyes squinting at it. “Must have been a bad connection.” He picks it back
up. “This is Dave.” Again, there’s nobody on the line. “Hello, is anyone
there?” There’s nothing but silence on the other side of the phone.
He slams the phone down on the receiver, his anger
getting the best of him. Instantly, the phone rings again. He looks at the phone,
his mouth open and his eyes wide. He grabs the phone. “Who is this?” He’s had
too much to drink to realize all of the other phones in the house aren’t ringing.
“Daddy?” A small voice comes on the other side.
“It can’t be.” Dave falls against the wall,
letting the phone slip from his hands. He slides down the wall. He reaches for
the phone with a shaky hand. He places it to his ear. “You’re dead. It can’t be
you. You died over twenty years ago.” He hangs the phone up. It rings again.
“Leave me alone, this isn't real.” He waits for a
response.
“Let me in, Daddy.” Dave hears a loud knock on his
large front double doors. He timidly turns to the doors at the end of the entry
hall. He sets the phone down on the small table without hanging it up. He walks
over to the doors as the knock comes again.
He looks through the peep hole on the door and doesn't see anyone. The knock comes again and he falls hard to the floor. He
crawls to his feet and runs to the phone.
He picks up the handset from the table and presses
on the plunger. When he releases there’s no dial tone on the phone. “Daddy?”
The small voice comes through crystal clear.
“No.” He presses it again
“Daddy?”
“I said no.” This time he presses the plunger
multiple times.
“Daddy?” Again. “Let me in.” Again. “Daddy.”
He slams the phone down hard and it rings again.
He wraps his hand around the phone cord and pulls as hard as he can and rips it
from the wall.
The phone continues to ring in his hand. He looks
at it with wide eyes and the knock on the door is louder this time. He throws
the phone at the door and runs up one of the stair cases.
His three story mansion has many hiding places. “Wait.”
He stops part way up the stairs to the second floor. “All I need to do is go to
sleep. This is just a bad dream. I’ll wake up once I fall asleep. I probably
just passed out drunk in my chair.” He tries rationalizing. “Yeah that’s it.”
He ignores the phone ringing and the knocking on the door.
He takes the stairs all the way up to the third
floor. The pounding on the door is a distant nuisance at the top. The ringing
has ceased and his nerves have settled.
He walks down the hallway rubbing his temples,
trying to get rid of his headache. His master suite is at the end of the
hallway. There are no doors to the room.
It opens to a large space with the bathroom on the
right opened to his bed on the left. Between the two is a large set of French
doors, leading to the balcony that overlooks the back part of his
property.
He walks into his closet to change into his silk
pajamas. He comes out buttoning his top and walks to his bed. Dave pulls the
covers back and slides in between the sheets.
He gets himself nice and comfortable and closes
his eyes when he hears the front door open. He shoots out of bed. There aren't any sounds coming down the hall as he peers around the corner.
“It’s nothing you fool. Just go check it out.” His
own pep talk isn't all that inspiring. The walls of the hallway are a bit of a
different texture than his room as he slides along. Each step he takes is on
the tip of his toes.
He makes it to the door of his home gym and sneaks
inside. There are golf clubs in the corner. He grabs the putter out of the bag
and heads back to the door. The club is making him feel a little better.
He edges to the staircase, hoping the door really isn't open. He places his head over the railing to look. The door is wide open.
“Maybe you left it unlocked.” He tries getting his hopes up. The ring from the
phone causes Dave to jump.
The sound is coming from his gym. He walks down
the hall holding his club like a baseball bat. He’s looking all around, making
sure nothing is coming up from behind him.
The phone is hanging on the wall next to the door.
He reluctantly takes the handset off and puts it to his ear. “He…hello?” His
hand is shaking when the voice comes back on.
“I’m inside now daddy. Come play with me.” He lets
the phone drop to the ground and looks behind him. “What were you expecting to
see?” He shakes his head trying to clear his mind.
He hangs up the phone and walks down the hall back
to his room the phone ringing behind him. “Fuck you, I’m going to sleep.” He
flips off the phone behind him. The ringing ends when he gets in his room. The
phone next to his bed rings this time.
This time it doesn't scare him. He was almost
ready for it. He gingerly walks to his bed and takes it off the receiver so it
no longer rings. He crawls back in bed, the cool silk sheets sending chills
down his spine.
He claps his hands, turning off his lights. It’s
the only room in the house that has the clapper still installed. He always
enjoyed it but when he updated the house a few years ago, his interior designer
convinced him to take it out.
He always laughed when people called him old
fashioned. He laid there wondering if his cell phone would have vibrated if he didn't have landlines all over his house. He laughs thinking about how
terrifying the vibrating phone would have been.
The
darkness in the room is peaceful. No sounds coming from anywhere in his house.
“Peace at last.” He closes his eyes and the sound of water snaps them open. He
looks around the room and claps his hands bringing the lights back on.
His bathroom faucet is on high. The shower turns
on next, all the way on hot. The steam is fogging the massive mirror on the
wall. The squeaking on the mirror draws Dave’s attention.
Come play with me is written upon it. He
grabs the golf club from the side of his bed and gets up again. He marches over
to the mirror and swings the club as hard as he can. “Leave me the fuck alone!”
He yells as he smashes the mirror with his putter. It shatters with every swing,
sending debris everywhere. He stands there panting, looking at where the mirror
used to be on the wall. Holes litter the wall where the club met the mirror.
He drops the club and walks back to his bed,
carefully stepping through the broken shards on the ground. On his way back to
his bed, the TV on the wall turns on to static. “Come play with me.” The voice
is broken up through the static but it’s the same one from the calls.
Dave falls to his knees. “Just let me sleep and
let this nightmare be over.” The TV shuts off. “Thank you.” He gets up off the
floor and warily walks to his bed staring at the TV.
He looks back at his bed and sees the lump growing
under his sheets. “Come play with me.” The lump is as tall as his son was when
he died.
“No, it’s not real.” He closes his eyes and covers
his ears with his hands. “Go away.”
“Come play with me, Daddy.” He can’t block out the
voice, because now it’s inside his head. He runs out of the room and down the
hall. He turns and runs down the stairs to the open door. Before he can reach
it, the door slams shut in front of him. “Why won’t you play with me, Daddy?”
He spins around trying to find the voice. It’s no
longer in his head but where. “Because you’re dead.” He runs back up the
stairs, this time getting off at the second floor landing. He sprints down the
hall, trying to find a place to hide.
He draws near the end of the hall when he hears
the sound of a toy train coming from his son’s old room. He inches his way to
the door leading to the room. He sees the light on and the door is cracked
open. Dave pushes the door open cautiously expecting the worse.
Instead he just sees a train going around in a
circle on the floor. He looks around the room. It looks the same way it did
before his son died. “It can’t be. I threw it all away.”
“Daddy?” The voice comes from down the hall. He
turns to see his son staring at him from the end of the hall. The silhouette is
dripping wet. The figure walks closer to him and Dave takes a step back.
Dave pivots to run away but sees his son in the
window. His eyes are hollow, his face is bloated and his hair is soaking wet.
He opens his mouth and water comes out. “Why Daddy?”
“I’m sorry.”
Tears are running down his face. “I’m so sorry.” He whirls and races down the
hall. He takes the stairs two at time back to his room. He grabs his cell phone
off the night stand and goes into the walk in closet.
He turns on the light and closes the door. He
looks down at his phone. Dialing nine-one-one, he places it to his ear.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone is in my house.”
“Why Daddy?” The voice comes over the phone in
place of the emergency operator.
“Send someone now.” Dave is doing his best to
ignore his son’s voice.
“Why Daddy?”
“They’re going to kill me.”
“Why Daddy?”
“I need your help.”
“So did I, Daddy.” The tears are a steady stream
down his face now.
“I’m
sorry.”
“Why Daddy?”
“It was an accident, OK? That fucking cunt, it’s
her fault. She told me about him and that you weren't my son. I had no choice.”
“Why Daddy?”
“That bitch, she cheated on me and she lied. You
were his son, but I raised you. She had to die. I fed her a cocktail she’d
never wake up from. All of her drugs mixed with Vodka. The cops called it an
overdose. All she wanted from me was my money, she didn't even want you. But
she wanted his cock all the time. That motherfucker got what he deserved too. I
cut his dick off and made him eat it, piece by piece before I slit his throat.
But the boy.” His rant jumps between confessing to the emergency operator and
talking to his son.
He pauses, waiting for a response. “Sir?” The
operator’s voice came over this time. He wipes his tears away and sniffs.
“Why?” His son’s voice was back.
“I never meant to hurt you Billy. It wasn't your
fault. She kicked you when she was convulsing and you fell in the pool. I could
have saved you, I wanted to save you but I just stood there and watched.”
“Can he still be saved?” The operator’s voice back
on the phone.
“Didn't you just fucking hear me? I killed my son.
I watched him drown. Billy, I’m sorry.”
“Come to me Daddy.” Dave drops the phone on the
ground. The emergency operator’s voice is coming over the phone trying to get
his attention.
He opens the door of the closet and walks to the French
doors leading to the balcony. He opens them wide and steps out. He looks over
the railing and sees his son floating in the pool. “Come to me.”
“I’m here Billy. Daddy’s going to save you.” He
climbs on top of the stone rail and stands there looking down at his son’s
lifeless body. “Daddy’s coming.” Dave leans forward.
