The Man with the Crazy Hair

The Man with the Crazy Hair

By: Marcia Hutcherson

Dear Diary, 

It’s 3 am and I can’t sleep again.  I didn’t think we would meet again so soon after my last entry but yet here I am. I am wide awake. I tried to sleep, really I did but there is something worrying me. Something that I saw today kinda scared me. I told Harris about it but it didn’t seem to bother him. He is fast asleep and snoring loudly. He probably thinks I just have been watching too many crime shows and now I think that everything is a CSI show now. But, I don’t know. All I know is that I am worried and can’t sleep. 

It all started earlier today.  Since the sun was shining, after a few days of rain, I decided to go outside and pull weeds before I decided what kind of flowers I was going to plant. So, I put on my garden jeans, faded old blue jeans, my old white tee shirt with the grape juice stain on the front, my big floppy sun hat and of course my gardening  gloves. I walked outside and kneeled in the wet grass and mud and began to start the task of pulling weeds and putting them in my bucket. All was going pretty well until I spotted the guy across the street. His house is directly across the street from mine. We have lived across the street from each other for five years, maybe even longer, but not once has he said a word to me. He never even waves.  I don’t know what his name is or if anyone else in the neighborhood knows his name. All I know is that he is very tall, very thin, always wears blue jeans and a black tee shirt and boots. His hair is very long but it sticks up on the top where it’s a little shorter and kinda reminds me of dreadlocks. Although, I don’t think that is what they are. Well, I would guess that he probably works outside because his hands are always dirty. I am thinking maybe a landscaper or something but I really don’t know. 

I glanced over at him because I noticed that he was coming down the steps and was dragging something behind him. Whatever it was looked very heavy. So heavy that he couldn’t carry it. That was strange to me.  I moved forward a little bit on my grass to get a better view. He turned around and was pulling it now, whatever it was and after he moved over a little I saw it was a big rolled up rug. I really didn’t think too much of it until I saw what the rug was tied with. It looked like a garden hose was holding the rug together. I was thinking who in the world has a garden hose in their house?  Maybe he brought it in the house from the yard? But, it was strange to me. Now, I do watch a lot of crime shows and the first thing that popped in my mind was a body. I know, diary, that is crazy right? 

I kept looking and he drug the rug all the way down the steps and made a sharp turn towards the gate leading to his backyard. By the time he got the rug down the steps he looked like he was out of breath. Whatever he was dragging must be heavy. I couldn’t get the thought of a body being in that rug. I don’t know why and for some reason I knew I had to find out if it was a body or not.  

All of a sudden the man turned around and I thought that he had seen me looking at him but no, he turned around to  call his dog, Spence. He yelled at Spence to go to the yard and the dog happily obeyed him. I pretended that I hadn’t noticed a thing and put my head down just in case he noticed me over here pretending to pull weeds.  A few minutes later he had the pulled the rug inside the backyard gate. Was I living across the street from a murderer? Oh, no, that would be all bad and that would explain why he never talked to me. Maybe he was planning to wrap me up in a rug next. No, that is stupid. Most killers are nice. They have to be nice in order to lure you in and this man is far from nice. I need to stop worrying about that dang rug. I need to go to sleep. 

It’s probably just a rug, an old rug that he wanted to get rid of. “Stop worrying, Varia.” I told myself aloud and I crawled in bed beside Harris. “Good night, man with the crazy hair.” I whispered to myself.  But, what if it wasn’t a rug. I jumped up again. Now, that I think of it, it has to be more. I am now worried that I might live next to a kidnapper. Maybe he is nice just not nice to me. He’s nice to the people he wants to kidnap. Maybe I should call the cops. Oh, what are the cops going to do after I say I saw my neighbor dragging a rug to his backyard. They are going to laugh at me.  That won’t work. First I had to worry about my mom being sick with a cold. I hope she doesn’t get worse. She is up in age. I will go see her tomorrow. Hey, I have an idea. This may stop my mind from worrying about the rug. I just have to go over across the street and hop the backyard fence, which shouldn’t be a problem since it is only like 2 feet tall, and see what is exactly in that rug on my way to see my mom. Yeah, that will work. Until I know I won’t be able to stop worrying or go to sleep.  That’s it. I will go over there tomorrow. He usually goes to work around 8 am. By 9 I will be over there, trespassing. Yes, I know it is a crime to be over there without permission but I gotta know. 

Okay, now, I know I won’t be able to sleep until I know. I am going over there tonight. All I need is to put on some clothes, all black clothes to match the night. Yes, that will help me sleep once I know what’s in the rug. 

I was almost there. I just needed to take a few more steps and be quiet. I took small quiet steps. All of his lights were out. I knew, or was hoping he was in bed. My gloved hand reached for the gate to unlock it. I jumped back, almost out of my skin when I saw eyes looking at me. I was speechless. It was a bear. A black bear. The bear was eating the rug. I ran for my life. Fortunately, the bear wanted to go back to eating whatever was in the rug and didn’t chase me. Well, now, I know, Diary. Guess what was in the rug was food, bear food.