Smile

Smile 

Arthur had never in his life had an extraordinary day. He has never had a day that he could talk to other people about or remember till the day he dies. He was just your ordinary guy getting a steady income as a construction worker and hoping the rent wasn’t as big as last months. 

He wanted to be different. He wanted to be that guy everyone could depend on, that could make a difference. Life wasn’t so kind to him. Today he had been fired from his job, and he had one last paycheck of a sad one hundred dollars. Just enough for a drink on the way home and maybe enough to pay his rent. 

“What a day,” Arthur grumbled as he walked out of the local bar. He finished the last of his beer, then threw the bottle in a nearby dumpster. As he walked, he thought of other ways to get money. “I could be an artist,” he muttered to himself. “Mama always said I had a talent for pen and paper.” 

It was probably the alcohol that had him thinking about having a shot at being the next da vinci. He slowly walked down the lonely street, no one was in sight. The sun was setting, which made the buildings and houses cast deformed shadows along the road. 

Suddenly, Arthur heard what he thought was a human scream. “He... Help!” cried someone. Arthur's natural instincts of protection kicked in, and he ran towards the noise. It was coming from a small stretch in-between two buildings, like an alley. 

He bolted around the corner and ran into the alley without hesitation, and he saw it. The body of a young man lay sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around him. When Arthur walked up to him, he saw the boy’s neck was slit, and his arms and legs were shredded. Before Arthur stood up, he noticed something, a word on the boy's arm.  

It looks like it must have been carved into his arm with a knife or blade of some kind. But in a horrifying, dark way, it spelt out one simple word: Smile. Filled with fear, Arthur stood up to leave, call for help, something, but he was stopped by a cold hand resting on his shoulder. 

Arthur felt a dark presence behind him, like the supernatural, or something like that. “You are the only person on this street,” said a raspy, gravelly voice. “So, I will spare you with a warning. Leave, go home, and let the police discover the body. Don’t let your little mouth go telling lies about me. 

“Who are you?” Arthur asked in response. The murderer didn’t reply like Arthur wanted him to. “Remember to smile.” those words chilled Arthur’s soul. Remember to smile? What did that even mean? He turned around slowly only to find and empty alley. There was no murderer to be seen, just Arthur and a bloody corpse. 

… 

“I know what I saw!” Arthur blurted. He heard the muffled voice of his friend over the phone. “I believe you, but the police aren't buying it,” said Cindy. “There was no body found. No evidence.” Arthur slumped down on his chair like a sack. “Fine, I'll talk to you later.” 

When Cindy hung up, he tossed the phone onto the nightstand and yelled in frustration. “I know what I saw,” he said to himself. Besides, he told the police about the body the night of the murder, and no serial killer had come banging down his door yet. Yet. The word hung in his mind. 

How much longer would it be? Or maybe he was bluffing and is running from the police. Yes, Arthur started to encourage this idea more than the other one. Suddenly, his phone chimed. “Pizza at my place,” Arthur read. 

This should help clear my head, thought Arthur. He texted Joey back saying he would be over in twenty minutes. 

He took a quick five-minute shower, got dressed, then grabbed his coat. Before he made it to the door, someone knocked. He had totally forgot about the pizza he had ordered an hour earlier.  

Arthur opened the door and not bothering to look at the pizza boy, he pulled out his wallet and grabbed a ten. He held out the ten, but to his horror, the pizza boy held out a cardboard sign. Written in blood, it read: Smile. Arthur looked at the murderer in front of him, then closed the door and bolted it. 

He pulled out his phone and swiped the S.O.S button. I'm saved, he thought, but he was wrong. The door burst open, and the hooded man stormed in wielding a grizzly butcher knife. Arthur turned around and ran into the living room and found the closest thing he could to a weapon; a chair.  

“What do you want?” Arthur cried as the man drew closer. “Smile,” the creep whispered. With one blow, Arthur stepped forward and smashed the chair over the murderer's head. The man stumbled to the side but remained standing. Arthur was running out of time, he just had to last until the police arrived, but how long could he last to a crazy man with a butcher knife. 

Arthur grabbed the lamp stand and held it up like a shield. The hooded man slashed his blade side to side, acting like it was a new toy. “Remember to...” The man stopped, then lunged at Arthur. The two fell to the floor in a heap, both trying to kill the other. “Smile” the man finished his sentence. 

Filled with adrenaline, Arthur shoved the man off him, not noticing the stab wound on his side. He held the murderer down, grabbed the knife, an held it over his face. Arthur at that moment, had discovered a new type of joy, revenge. Revenge for the torture of thinking every night a man was standing above you with a knife, revenge for the thought of losing everything to a killer. 

Arthur brought the knife down into the man’s shoulder, then jerked it out. The man started to laugh. Arthur was confused. He stabbed the killer again. “Stop laughing!” he shouted. The man didn’t listen. Filled with a new, blind rage, Arthur started stabbing at random places, all the while, the murderer was laughing. 

Wanting to end it all, Arthur raised the knife one last time, and plunged it into the first murderer’s neck. Blood was everywhere. On the carpet, on the walls, and on Arthur. The scary part of it all is that barley any of it was his. Arthur stood and started to pace the room. “It was self-defense,” Arthur said, his hand started to twitch. “But it felt... It felt good.”  

He turned back to the man on the floor. “Re... remember to smile,” were his last words, then he breathed his last. Arthur, filled with new thoughts, new, demented thoughts, rejoiced. Killing another person had made him insane, and he wasn’t aware of it. 

His cloths were thoroughly soaked in the warm blood of his kill, and he loved it. For the next thirty minutes, Arthur sat in his victim’s blood. He didn’t remember anything that happened during that time, but the police did show up soon. 

They came in, guns raised, telling Arthur to drop the knife. He stood up and dropped the weapon. Everything in that apartment showed that Arthur was the killer. He would have explained everything, but all his sanity was gone. As the cops took him away, he looked back one more time and saw on the wall, painted in fresh blood, the cursed word: Smile.  

… 

Weeks had gone by with Arthur in that cold prison cell, but finally, he was released. At least, he thought. The guards led him down the halls into a room he didn’t recognize. They shoved him into the chair in the center and left. Smile, Smile, Smile, he told himself repeatedly.  

After a few minutes, a man in a new, black suit walked in. He sat down in the chair opposite of Arthur. “I am Detective Treece, and I have some questions for you,” said the man. Arthur didn’t respond. Detective Treece sighed, then pulled out a photo of a young man. Instantly, Arthur recognized it; it was the boy he had discovered in the alley. 

“Did you murder him?” Asked Treece. Arthur smiled slightly, then nodded. Treece pulled the photo back and took out another one. It was the body of Arthur’s tormentor . “Did you murder him?” Treece asked. Arthur nodded. Treece tucked the photo back into his pocket, then clasped his hands. “Why?” 

Arthur laughed. “The people we choose to be are normally modeled after other people,” he said. “I adopted the role of my tormentor, or now should I say mentor.” Arthur started to chuckle. Treece sighed. “Tell me what you mean exactly.”  

“He showed me who I really was,” cried Arthur. “Not some loser worker or some damn crap pile! I was meant for... more.” Treece stood up. “Okay, I will talk to you again tomorrow.” Arthur nodded. “Treece,” he said. Treece turned around. “Remember to smile.”