There's Not Enough Room

"Jules, I'm so sorry but I have no time to explain. I have to call the cops. Someone was in bed and I thought it was you. Uh... there should be fifty bucks in my second or third drawer in my office. Just grab it and take a taxi home or something. I'm so sorry honey, I love you." And without waiting for a reply I disconnected the call. With trembling fingers, I dialled 911.

By the time Jules got home, a patrol car had shown up and two officers had already searched the building twice. She rushed through the front door, into the bedroom, demanding to know what the hell just happened. The officers assured us that the house and the neighbour’s houses were all safe, and that there had been no signs of forced entry. Nonetheless, I knew I was not crazy, so when I insisted on the presence of... something, the officers decided to spend the night outside the house in their patrol car. As restless as we were, Jules and I decided to get as much sleep as we could for work tomorrow.

It must've been about 6am when I woke to a shrill screech. Jules had also woken, looking disorientated and completely confused. As I got up, I brushed Jule's phone onto the ground, and as it clattered loudly on the floor, the sound abruptly stopped. Swooping over to pick up the phone, I cautiously peeked into the empty hallway. With Jules following behind me, I walked into the bathroom to find all the glass shattered or scratched wildly. Something was wrong.

I backed out and bolted into the living room to find every glass object shredded. I dashed outside, ignoring the freezing wind tearing at my bare calves and immediately saw the glass from my neighbours windows shattered. I looked around and spotted the police car parked further down the road. Jogging towards it, I realised there was glass everywhere. It was on the road, on the side paths and in the bushes on the other side of the road. To my dismay the windscreen of the patrol car had disintegrated, the two officers were both slumped over the dashboard. Gently brushing off shards of glass off their backs, I laid them both back in their seats, and instinctively checked for a pulse. If only I had looked at their faces I would've realised they were already dead.

Stepping back, I suddenly saw the blood oozing down their faces. It took me a second to register this but on their faces were letters carved through their skin. They read "Thanks Mike, but we still need more room."


About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)