Jan 12

creepy encounter

several years ago i was taking care of my father’s place while he was in vacationing in Montreal. there was only myself and my sister at the house during the time, and after a fine meal she had retired to her room, while i watched television lazily on the leather couch. i felt myself drifting off to sleep when the door bell rang. i glanced up at the living room clock and thought to myself, “who on earth could that be at 11:30 in the evening?”

i looked through the front window which had a clear view of the front steps and door, and there stood a scraggly looking fellow– rather untidy in appearance with shaggy dirty blond hair, an unshaven face and glasses. despite initially giving pause at the time of night, i didn’t think much of it at the time and proceeded to the front door to greet the stranger.

when i answered, politely asking “hello, can i help you?” he simply asked if “John” was home.

backstory time: several years ago, there was a fellow named John who did stay with my dad. he worked at the same company as my father but lived in New York. he and my father had struck an arrangement that he would stay at my dad’s house during the week, while going back to his family in NY during the weekends. however, at the time of my story he had long since retired from the company and moved back to NY permanently. normally i’m a pretty cautious dude, but this previous story made me drop my guard a little but “creepy-guy” asking a for a fairly popular name should have been the first red flag.

not thinking much of his request i told him John no longer lived here and creepy-guy thanked me and was on his way. as he made his way down the steps i noticed his light brown cadillac had out of state plates but left it at that once he drove off down the street. locking the door behind me i flopped backed on the couch and continued my late night zoning out on the discovery channel.

i began to fall asleep again while another episode of Wild Discovery was starting up when the door bell rang again. i didn’t need to look up at the clock to realize that it was past midnight. glancing quickly out the front window i saw it was the same fellow who had asked for John thirty minutes earlier; my first red flag.

as i approached the front door my mind began to worry a little so as i unbolted the deadlock and opened the door, i made sure to keep my foot behind the door just in case. once again, i politely asked “hello, can i help you?”.

he shuffled his feet and began to tell his tale:

“i know this will sound a little weird, but a few years ago i was going i was doing construction in this area, and i noticed there was a beautiful woman who lived here. she had a beautiful pair of white shoes, and i was wondering i could have them.”.

my mind began to race. true, there was construction going on in the area here a few years ago as the neighborhood had recently been developed, but there was NO woman living here several years ago. my father was the first owner of this house, and he and my mother had long been divorced, not to mention that my mom lived in another country. my father hadn’t had any girlfriends until recently– in fact that’s why he was in Montreal, to spend time with his girlfriend who would end up being his future wife.

i answered that there was no woman living here, and the shoes in question would probably not be in the house.

he responded with “but there were the most beautiful pair of white shoes, i really want them! i’ll buy them off you, here i have…” he cut himself off to search his pockets which only produced 10 dollars. i shook my head but he continued to ask, “please man? i’ll give you the money, just let me inside and let me look for the shoes. i really need to have them!”.

“uuuhhh, the shoes you’re looking for aren’t here and i think you better leave” i said firmly and began to close the door.

alarm bells were going off in my head and i knew i had to stop this before things got any weirder. as i began to close the door in what felt like slow motion, i saw him moving his arms forward in an attempt to block me from closing the door. as i slammed it shut and locked the deadbolt, i heard him turning the doorknob and trying to open the door. once he realized that shit wasn’t going to happen, i heard him bolt down the steps. as i ran to the front window to try and get his license plate number, he had already started the car and began to peel off– i was too late.

by this point adrenaline had kicked in and i because searching the house for a weapon. even though there were several swords hanging on the wall, i decided to go for my trusty golf driver as i went around the house making sure that all possible entrances were locked. after waking my sister and quickly telling her situation i called the police. once they arrived i told them what had happened and after the officer did his police-thing he ended our conversation with “this is the weirdest story i’ve ever heard.”

Jan 09

as long as he could

Charles fumbled through a stack of papers like a child pilfering through a mysterious box of toys.  How had he forgotten about these?  As he glanced through transcript upon transcript each entry took him to a different place from distant memories.  How long has it been since he thought about these things, these places, these times?

His mind floated to when he first met Sarah.  She was young then, much more curious about the world than he was.  He learned many things about her as their friendship blossomed;  she enjoyed the feeling of sand as it trickled through her fingers, she loved to listen to the dance of the small brook as it corralled its way through the rocks and stones beneath the Avenue Street bridge.  Her ability to find joy and beauty in the simplest things that life had to offer was what drew him to her in the first place, and it was her willingness and enthusiasm to share these experiences with anyone who would listen which finally made Charles realize that he wanted to be with her for as long he could.

The night wore on as Charles continued to filter through each collection.  In a small way he regretted that he had stopped writing, but that was what his life had dictated for him to do.

Aug 08

a beautiful someone

i woke up in a strange house, resting under the sheets next to a beautiful someone who felt as lonely as i did.  she fluttered a smile and said “good morning, want some breakfast?”.  i lied and told her i was fine.  mentally preparing myself for the onslaught of a lazy day, i wrestled out of comfort and fashioned myself in appropriate attire. holding vice in hand i excused myself while my stomach twisted and wrenched in abashment.

i felt guilty and i missed her.  for no reason whatsoever.  she’s not even here.  she doesn’t belong to me.  not in the way we clandestinely wanted. to think, after so long, it would still be there.  maybe it’ll never go away.

my throat and head cleared in unison and i chuckled in a sad and desperate way, with the smell of bacon and eggs underlined with a subtle touch of cigarettes in the background.  i stared at the makings of a future pool, or so she told me the night before as we wove in and out of philosophical nonsense, and i couldn’t help but think of proscribed reciprocal infatuation. “cheers to that” i thought, and immediately forced myself to forget with the help of mr. maker’s mark, if only for a short while.

her breakfast was ready despite my objections, so i ate next to a beautiful someone, while we both pondered on someone else.