The Man In Blue

The town was snuggled peacefully between two small mountains. It contained one road with one stoplight at the center of town with charming brick houses south of the light and to the north, a single gas station and a few essential businesses. The 122 residents lived simple lives, going to their nine-to-five jobs and spending time with their families and neighbors. 

Nothing happened in this town. It was quiet, with few visitors and even less crime. The people of the town knew each other well and had for generations. Everybody loved the seclusion, having no desire to grow or progress. They were simple people with simple lives in a simple town. 

Every house was occupied. Every house but one, the biggest house in the neighborhood. A vibrant red-brick mansion with a tall, rusting black gate guarding it rested at the farthest south lot. Vines clung to it and the grass grew tall around it, hiding the front steps up to the bolted-shut door. Contrary to its outward condition, the inside was well kept, the furniture in pristine condition besides the layer of dust. It comprised two stories and a basement. A balcony from the master bedroom displayed a beautiful view of the mountains and a stream flowing down into the valley. It was, by all accounts, a wonderful place to live.

But it remained vacant for as long as the town people could remember, or at least that’s what they told the few people that asked. Few went near it, and even the kids and teenagers avoided it. They steered clear, moving to the other side of the street, and when people would drive into town, they always had the urge to speed up when passing the property. Nobody knew why, but it felt like the mansion was watching them. Nobody tried to move in and nobody tried to tear it down. The few people who ventured near the front gate felt intense horror at the sight of it, either freezing or running away. Those who froze would pass out and somebody would have to come retrieve them and take them to the town clinic. But nobody would speak about these things. After each occurrence, the people would seem to forget and move on with their normal, small town life. 

One summer afternoon, a visitor drove into town. A man in a 2001, black Honda Accord stopped at the gas station. He stepped out of his car, sporting a high end baby blue suit coat, white undershirt and a Stetson hat pulled low over his eyes. He walked across the parking lot and into the Shell. He lifted his wrist, the time on his Rolex showing three-thirty. Mr. Benson, the cashier, stared at him. What was a man like this doing in this town? His outfit certainly didn’t match his vehicle, either.

The man went straight to the back of the store and returned a few minutes later with a monster energy drink and sat in on the counter.

“Is that all?” Mr. Benson asked, still unable to see the man’s eyes.

“Yes,” the man grinned, “Just a little monster to keep me going.”

Mr. Benson scanned the drink, and the man handed him a ten-dollar bill.

“So, where ya headed??”

A smile grew wide across the man’s face. “Here,” he said as he grabbed the monster. 

“Visiting family?”

“You could say that.”

The man turned and exited before any more questions could be asked. Mr. Benson couldn’t contain his curiosity, so he stepped outside just as the Honda pulled onto the main road, heading south at a leisurely pace. Which house would he stop at? The Honda drove past the Carlsons, the Tysons, and the Manheins. It continued on, passing house after house, and Mr. Benson wondered if the man was lying. The car grew smaller and slowed as the houses ended and the mountain tunnel began. Then the car stopped. It stopped next to the mansion.

The man stood at the entrance, smiling up at his old friend. He retrieved a black key from his pocket, unlocked the gate and strode up to the front door. He slipped another key into the lock and the door creaked as it swung open. The man stepped in and disappeared into the darkness.

Little Bobby Selton watched wide-eyed from her bedroom window across the street. People weren’t allowed to go into that house, so why had that nice-looking man gone in? She jumped off her bed and tiptoed into the hallway, past her sleeping sister, and peered around a corner into the living room. Her mother faced away from her phone to her ear. Bobby slid across the living room entrance to the front door and slipped on her shoes. Maybe the house was safe to go inside. She closed the door calmly and meandered across the street. 

The mansion loomed above her, mysterious and enticing. It would be a perfect place for hide and seek. She reached for the lock, but it slid open before she touched it. Was this a magic house? Bobby leapt across the threshold and onto the cracked brick sidewalk and skipped up to the front door. She didn’t feel like the people in all those stories her mother told her. Her heart beat faster, but instead of fear, she felt excitement. She hopped onto the porch and rapped her fist against the door. 

“Bobby! Where are you?” Bobby’s mother stepped onto the front porch and froze in horror. The mansion door opened and a tall shadowy figure bent low, grabbed Bobby’s hand and pulled her into the house, slamming the door shut. Bobby’s mother turned and walked back into her house and redialed Mr. Benson. 

The town hall filled with residents, all huddled together with doom written on their faces. Mr. Benson detailed his account of the man entering the abandoned mansion, causing a stir. Then Bobby’s mother stood up and recounted what had happened. “I have a terrible knot in my stomach about this man. I’m afraid for my only daughter, Sandy. I don’t want her or any of the children near that house.”

The townspeople dispersed, rushing to their homes and peeking behind closed curtains at the mansion at the end of the street. It grew more dangerous in their minds and infiltrated their thoughts. The peaceful, small town became one with hushed voices and untrusting thoughts. Something bad was going to happen, something that had happened before, but nobody could remember. Nobody would speak of it, but they all dreaded the day that man reappeared.