“Damnit,” he muttered to himself as he barreled down the back stretch with less than an eighth of a tank of gas and a lifeless body in the trunk. He hadn’t had a drink all week and this was quickly becoming the day that would never end.
Up ahead, a faded light came into view and he knew this signaled home. With the wipers still on high, he could now make out the figure of someone standing in the front window. The curtains moved quickly, as though whoever was there did not want to be noticed.
He knew if he killed again he wouldn’t be able to stop at one. Loose ends. Passerbyers. Innocent victims. It didn’t matter, at least in the past. One in the same. But was tonight so different? The rage inside him was at an all time new level, considering the circumstances.
His head a sea of emotion and quick thought, he pulled into the back lot tucked away behind the house. He sat there for a moment, the silence loud but no louder than the steady downpour bouncing of the Oldsmobile. Studying the house via the back window and side, no signs of life seemed apparent. But who was that at the window earlier or was he losing his mind?
He opened the door and quickly made his way towards to house. Doused by the rain, he again scanned the place through the back window and readied his cold, wet hand on the knob. Surprisingly, it was open. He stood quietly in the foyer, measuring his breaths. A flash of footsteps were heard and not of only one person. This parade of fearful stomping signified a roomful of people, as the terror rose in him.
Standing there, completely terrified of what was in his home and spent from his dealings with the body in his trunk, he scrambled to formulate any sort of plan. Tossing and turning in his sedated mind, it became clear what had to be done.
In a burst of strength, he bolted back to the car to grab a full jerry can from inside the trunk. With key slid smoothly inside the lock, the lid flung open and a giant dog lunged out and sank his teeth into the man. In one fall swoop, he beat the fierce mutt down to the ground and it ran into the house as fast as it could. “Perfect,” he smiled to himself but then was confronted with the notion that the body was gone. Wiping his eyes of the rain, he muttered to himself she had to be there, somewhere.
His hand found the jerry can and back inside the house he ran. As though a maniacal mad man might, he began pouring the gasoline quickly all over the place. On the floors, the table, the couches and the curtains. Even half of the stairway to hell got a heavy sprinkling. And then as cold and collected as ever, he struck a match and flicked it at the stair case. The blaze sprang to life, mirroring itself in his tired eyes.
He ran out the back door and stopped when he hit the grass. Neither his car was there nor was there a torrential downpour occurring. It was also well past dawn, with the sun slowly climbing the cool morning sky. He must be losing his mind, that’s the only way to explain it he told himself.
Then the blood curdling screams began and they would never end. They belonged to his wife and their 4 young children, all trapped upstairs, along with their trusty family dog. The man had been asleep, dreaming of his night time affairs. The dream was so real to him that when he woke, he doused the place on fire and set it ablaze, ultimately murdering his entire family. The dog that bit him earlier was their family pet of 11 years, sensing something was amiss and was trying to protect the family. This, my friends, is a true story.