Thy Neighbor

The fiery sky begins to boil away as the sinking sun is cooled by the coming of night. It’s gettin’ colder, I can feel it in the breeze. No more warm summer nights, I reckon that autumn has now settled in. It ain’t as good as summer, but I can’t complain—life is simpler this time of year. Martha don’t think that, though. She comes barrelin’ out of the house, makin’ the whole front deck tremor. I shout at her to be careful—this old house can’t take much more of her wild fits. But rather than consider what I have to say, she bellows: “Earl! What’re you doin’ out here? It’s freezing and you’re sittin’ here without a shirt?” Now she’s done did it. Criticize me all you want you ol’ bat, but I ain’t goin’ to take no more abuse. Repositionin’ myself in my rocker, I take a long sip of my beer. “Earl!” she screams again, “Earl, are you listening to me?” No sir, I ain’t answering. 

There’s a click and pop as my belt breaks at the buckle. Damnit! That was my favorite belt! Clearly, I am upset—but that don’t stop Martha: “Ha! Serves you right! You’re out here wasting away and growing such a beer belly!” Now she’s just about done it. I can surely feel the hot in my ears and forehead now. I turn ‘round in my seat and bark, “you listen here, woman! I ain’t—!” The deck aches and the floorboard underneath me breaks, engulfing the leg of my rocker. The sudden movement sends me tippin’ over the side and I break the chair’s arm as my body comes crashin’ down. All is silent for a moment. That is until Martha shouts, “Earl! Now lookit! You broke the deck!” I’m realmad now. Now I get up and start cussin’ and throwin’ a tantrum. How come Martha’s ruckus ain’t enough to bust the deck, but my slight movement is? Well, Martha keeps blabberin’ away, complainin’ ‘bout my clumsiness. 

I could just lick her right now, but instead I send my fist into the nearest wooden beam. There’s a loud crack as the whole roof of the deck comes crashin’ down atop me and Martha. I begin to panic, breakin’ my way to the top of all the crud and dust. This cloud is stingin’ my eyes real bad and the warm tears are fallin’. I start diggin’ through the mess to find Martha. “Earl!” I hear her wail, “you complete jackass! Lookit now! You’ve sent th’ whole roof down!” I stop searchin’ and grunt loudly, so I know she know I heard her. I stand lookin’ at how much work I have ahead me. “Come help me get up!” Martha says somewhere under a plank. I crawl out the pile and onto the front lawn. I’m gonna need some tools. Martha yells my name again. “Get out yerself, you witch!” I holler, “I’m goin’ to get my tools back from the neighbor!” Now she’s cussin’ but I don’t care; I just want to get these tools. 

If I remember correctly, I lent Jim my tools last week. He had some problem with clogged pipes or somethin’. Well, it’s usually about this time where his dog comes to greet me, but it don’t come. That’s odd for sure. No matter, it is pretty dark now. I can see some lights still on in the house, so I reckon Jim’s still rootin’ around. Trudgin’ up his steps, I bang mighty hard on his oak door. I notice a new doorbell, so I ring that too. After some time, I hear some rustlin’ and the door creaks open. But that ain’t Jim. This a youngin’ and he’s clean shaven. I can see the blindin’ white gleam of his teeth—he’s got all of ‘em and I know damn well Jim ain’t got all his teeth, nor are they white. “Oh hi, Earl! How can I help you?” he speaks. How does he know my name? Maybe Jim’s got himself a one of those caretaker boys—he is gettin’ pretty weak. I inform the lad that I’m lookin’ to get my tools back from Jim as my deck collapsed. 

He looks at me strangely and starts to breathe heavy. “Jim?” he queries. Did you hear what I said? Of course, I said Jim. I inform him that Jim is the owner of this here house and I know because I’ve lived my whole life next to him. Well, this kid got nerves cause he up and says Jim is dead. I can’t believe what I’m hearin’. Shakin’ my head, I start whisperin’ “no” over ‘n over again. I’m startin’ to lose my balance but the kid catches me. I plead him to tell me when he died. “Earl…” he says, “this was like ten years ago. He died a year before I bought this house and moved in. You’ve told me all about him.” What? I haven’t told this up-tight Yankee nothin’! I ain’t never seen him in my life! I stand up and push the kid off me. He looks confused, but I ain’t gonna play his mind tricks. I start to call him names, threatin’ him if he don’t tell the truth about Jim, I’ll lick him hard. Well he goes ‘round and counter-threats to call the police on me! I dare him too because if anythin’, they’ll find out he’s a house robber. He doesn’t call the cops, but he does tell me to never bother him this late again. He shuts the door, leavin’ me out in the cool night. 

I reckon he killed Jim and took his house. All this other information he’s tellin’ me can be summed up in one word: bullshit. I come home and enter through the back ‘cause the front is rubble. Martha’s sittin’ at the kitchen table all pissed off or somethin’. I tell her we ought to call the cops because some Yankee kid has gone and killed Jim for his home. As I’m tellin’ her this, she looks at me odd and softly says that Jimhasbeen dead for ten years. I knew Martha has been tryin’ to stab me in the back! She’s clearly bin in cahoots with this neighbor! Well we get to arguin’ and she calls me forgetful, but I know she’s been lyin’. I call her a manipulative bitch and she begins wailin’ like some old witch. Standin’ up she cries out that she never would’ve married me if she’d known it would turn to this. Now I was gettin’ real mad. I slam my palms on the table and stress that I wouldn’t have married her neither if I’d had known she couldn’t give me a kid. That really did it ‘cause she starts screamin’ and leaves the kitchen. Sum life.

All I know now is I’m on my own. I can’t sleep—I keep thinkin’ of how poor Jim’s been slaughtered. I reckon I should retaliate and grab my shotgun. I exit my home and make my way over to the neighbors. It’s eerily dark and quiet out here. The wind has stopped, but no stars make their presence known. Each step closer to the home makes my body shiver with anticipation. Although there ain’t a single light to be seen in Jim’s house, I know there’s somethin’ lurkin’. I make my way ‘round back ‘n test the dores. They be locked, but that’s when I notice a dark-ish shadow dart within’ the house. I stop cold. Somethin’ is movin’ in the house. I’m tryin’ to load the shotgun, but I can’t quite figure out how as this icy feelin’ is shootin’ throughout me. 

The dark thing inside the house is movin’ closer to my location—closer to the dore. Now I’m startin’ to panic and I grab the gun by the barrel and bear it like a bat. It’s movin’ and its startin’ to look through the glass; the wind whispers somethin’ in my ear but I can’t discern it’s talk. I here a leaf crunch behind me and I tense up a considerable amount. A footstep. Then two. The shadow in the dore disappears lightnin’ fast, there’s a noise behind me, I turn and swing the gun right into somethin’ hard and it gives in. 

…

I guess I hurt Nathan pretty bad. I didn’t go to Jim’s house last night—I went the wrong way. Nathan heard me prowlin’ outside and went to investigate when I clocked him good with my gun. I tries to apologize and tell him he has a spirit in his basement but he don’t hear me no more. Martha won’t talk to me no more, especially after what I did to Nathan. I reckon it’s for the better. That old witch. There’s a nock at the dore but I let Martha answer it—I don’t wanna talk to nobody. I hear her say sumthin’ about me and that did anger me a lot, so I gets up to see who she’s talkin’ to. It’s that Yankee kid. The one who murdered Jim. I go for his neck, and I won’t mess up this time. Martha screams at me callin’ me crazy, but I claw at this horrible guy. I’ll show him as much mercy as he showed Jim: none. 

Martha is able to pull me from him and he scrambles away crying out that I’m messed up in the brane. As he escapes, I begin cussin’ up a storm and lick Martha real good. Ain’t nobody get in my way like that—especially when I’m fightin’ a murderer. If anythin’, Martha is jus as bad as the neighbor. Both are terrible wretches. 

…

It bin about a month now an’ Martha speaks to me little. The neighbor keeps getting’ ‘way too. I’ll kill him. Th’ deck is still destroyed an’ Martha uses the back dore now to move in and out. She locks it every other time. I’ll escape soon enough. Martha has said somethin’ about gettin’ rid of me on the fone. Sumthin’ is up an’ I think she talkin’ to th’ naybor. They ar’ tryin’ to exterminate me lik a damn rat—jus’ like wat they did to Jim. I miss Jim. I sit in th’ bed most nights scared that it may be th’ nite Martha and kid take me away like they did Jim. Tonight especially. Evry noise gives me feer, even the noises I know is jus’ the house settlin’. Now thers a bangin’. I’s given a real fright now ‘n reach for th’ shotgun but it not there. Martha took it. I no she did. 

Sumone rattles the dore handle. They’s enter. It Martha. I cuss at her an’ she tell me tht I’s gotten real bad an’ it time for me to see someone. I knows she talkin’ ‘bout Jim. Tonight is the nite she exterminates. I tell her no and atack her. Sumone grabs me, it neighbor! He jhold me reall tite and it hurt bad. I bte his fcjing finger, blud pores out an’ sprays me but I espe his hold andr un as fr and far as I can. As he screams, Mrtha tries to gt up from th’ flor. Brethin’ hevy I mak it to th’ kitchn. I tri to opn th dor but its lock! Butch has th onlyt key. Franticly, I serch fur a tool to protct meself. I am abl to fnd a nife in the drawer. 

It to late. I is surrounded by darc shadws. They is everwhare. All consuming. I wale and cry, pleding w tem, but theys mock me. One reches fir my nife arm. No! I slash an stab at the demon. It howels as red gorges out it qnd on me. Death is hurt me, I fend of th darkness. I slah an swng, kniding ery shadow ner me. Thy hiwl and cry fur me to stp, bnut the didn’t stop whn Jim cried. I kep stbbing and stabbin’ until all is quite. I sqez eyes clse and cri softly. The nif drips frum my han and I ioen my eye to se no drk sh adows no more. Only blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Mrtha n’ the neybur r. dead. Bludy corpses. They kild Jim. 

…

Earl sat against the bloody kitchen wall. His heartrate still accelerated from what had just occurred. By his feet was his wife Martha and neighbor, both stabbed by his own hand. Tormented by his own thoughts, Earl screamed helplessly. His now full-blown dementia was gnawing away at his core. He had forgotten that his neighbor, Jim died ten years ago. He started to become needlessly aggressive. He became disoriented, unable to comprehend many situations coherently and becoming terribly paranoid. With this onset of paranoia, he saw shadows. These tormented him to the very end. Martha and the neighbor both decided it was time to get Earl medical attention—Earl thought they were trying to kill him. Earl now sits. Alone. Unaware of his actions, he wonders when Jim will be back from his trip.