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SECRETS OF A PSYCHO
By Donald H Sullivan
Alfred Jenkins was on his way home from his wife's funeral. He looked at the passenger seat and began to chuckle. "I wonder if your ghost is sitting there, Irene. Are you watching my driving, angry because you have no voice to nag me now?" He was laughing aloud now, so hard that he was banging his hands against the steering wheel.
"Y'know. I had to grit my teeth to keep from laughing and dancing at your funeral. I did giggle through my handkerchief, but they thought I was crying."
He stopped for a red light, still laughing. He looked around and saw that the woman in the car next to his was staring at him. "Something funny I heard on the radio," he said. She nodded and smiled.
The light changed and he continued. "Oh, it's so funny, Irene. They think you fell from the ladder while changing a light bulb. Only you and I know the truth. Oh, I know you disapprove of my putting you out of your misery. But there ain't a damn thing you can do about it 'cause you're just a spirit now. No body, no voice, no nothing. Hey, that reminds me. I got a secret that nobody knows but me, and now I'm gonna share it with you."
###
He pulled into the driveway of the frame house. "You always complained about. this little house. Only one bedroom wasn't enough for you? Look, we never had any kids, so what did we need another room for? Well, it don't matter to you now, does it?"
He entered the house, and after locking the door behind him, he jumped up on the couch. He began jumping up and down on the couch like a child, all the while whooping with laughter. He jumped down and started dancing, and then fell rolling on the floor.
The doorbell chimed. He leaped up, straightened his clothes, and went to the door. It was Michelle Fletcher from next door. She was carrying a covered tray. "Hi Mr. Jenkins. Mom and I are so sorry we couldn't make it to the funeral, but you know, Mom being in a wheelchair and all. Anyway, we brought you a little something. There's roast chicken and the trimmings."
"I understand," he said, "and thanks for the food. I really appreciate it."
"I'd like to say once more that if there is anything we can do, just let us know." He caught a whiff of her perfume as she gave him a hug and left.
"You see that, Irene? That gal's got the hots for me. Wow, them skimpy white shorts she was wearing. Wheee! Wanted to give me a show. So she ain't even half my age, but who cares?"
He turned on the TV, placed the tray with the chicken on the coffee table, then sat down to watch a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show.
"Yummy, this chicken's good. Wanna piece? Oops, I forgot, you can't eat it. Well, I'll eat it for you. Hey, I almost forgot about the secret. I'm gonna take you out into the hills tonight and show you something real nice. You'll love it"
###
After nightfall, Alfred left the house and drove out of town. About a mile out of town, he turned off on an unpaved, winding road leading into hilly country. "You never been out here before, Irene. This is part of my rural mail route. Know it like the back of my hand."
Presently he stopped and got out of the car. The full moon made the night almost as bright as daylight. "See that hill? Just follow me and I'll show you something. He trudged about halfway up the hill and stopped near a large boulder.
"Just a few paces from the left of that boulder there's two graves, and in those graves lies two lovely girls." He giggled and danced a little jig. "Couple of real lookers, too. Whee! Now didn't I tell you you'd love it? See, now you got company, ain't that nice? Irene, this here is Candice and Barbara." He did a little bow and gestured toward the graves.
That's when he saw two shadowy figures appear over the graves. He retreated a few steps. "Go away. You ain't scaring me. Go away!" He pulled a switchblade from his pocket. "I swear I'll kill you again. Go away." The figures dissipated as suddenly as they appeared.
For a brief moment, a subconscious level of Alfred's mind experienced a flash of clarity, revealing the shadowy figures as nothing more than hallucinations. But the conscious level of his clouded mind once again prevailed, and the shadowy figures he had seen were real.
"Sometimes they try to scare me, Irene." He pocketed the switchblade.
"Course, Dear, you do remember the girls being in the news? One about three years back and the other just last summer. Seems they disappeared and was never found." He giggled. "Lovers come up here and park sometimes, but they'd ever guess what's here.
"But I keep a map of the place and an account of what happened to the girls, because I'm gonna be famous after I'm gone. I keep it in that little gray strongbox that you always thought was letters from an old girlfriend. Well, now ya know."
He took a deep breath, and his mood grew pensive. "The girls was hitchhikers just passing through and I picked 'em up in the mail truck. I put 'em out of their misery just like I did for you. Used a different method, though. Sliced 'em up with my switchblade."
He got back in the car and started back toward town. He looked in the back seat. "Nobody there. Well, looks like your new friends don't want to go back with us. They never leave the hill. Like it there, I guess. But don't feel bad, 'cause we'll come back to see 'em. I sometimes stop by to visit while I'm driving the mail truck on my route. If anybody sees me they figure I'm just taking a pee."
###
The following morning was Sunday and Alfred slept late. The clock showed 9:20 AM when he crawled out of bed. He padded to the bathroom, and then went to the kitchen. He made coffee and filled a bowl with frosted cereal. He looked across the table as he ate. "Ha, thought I couldn't make my own breakfast, didn't ya. Well, I can make it by myself, Dearie, and do lots of other things. You'll see."
It was 10:AM when he finished breakfast. He got up from the table and immediately went to the window in the living room. He lifted a slat in the blinds and peered through the crack just in time to see Michelle spreading a blanket in her back yard. She was still wearing the white shorts.
She spread the blanket and turned on her portable radio. "Whee! Just look at that, Irene. That girl's putting on another show for me. She's just begging for it. Wants to join you, Barbara, and Candice. And you know what, Dearie? It gets better each time I do it. Bashing your head was fun, but the switchblade is even better." He closed the crack in the blind and reached into his pocket, drawing out an eight-inch switchblade.
He pressed the button and the blade made a click as it sprang open. He felt the sharp edge, thinking of the red gash one stroke of its thin bright edge would make on Michelle's throat. "Oh the pleasure," he said, "the ecstasy." He felt a stirring in his groin as his finger touched the razor-sharp edge.
"I'm gonna let you in on another secret, Dearie. Remember when Michelle and her mother were gone for two weeks and left their house keys with us? Well guess what, I secretly had copies of the keys made for their security storm door and the standard door at the front entrance." He peeked through the blinds again. "I know where your bedroom is, my Michelle." He then sang out in a hoarse, tuneless voice, "Michelle ma belle," then stopped and went into a fit of giggling until he lay on the floor gasping. "Yep, tonight's gonna be the night."
Alfred finished his supper, went into the living room, and turned on the TV. "We'll stay here and watch TV until two o'clock," he said. "Michelle don't go to bed until after midnight, so that'll give her plenty of time to go to sleep. It'll be so easy. No dog and no alarm system. They think the barred windows and security doors are enough." He tapped his temple with his forefinger. "But not enough for a smart and cunning man like me."
###
Alfred left the house shortly after 2:00 AM. Making sure that there were no cars coming from either direction, he kept in the shadows and used shrubbery for cover as he stealthily made his way to the Fletcher's house. He stepped up onto the stoop and quietly inserted the key into the barred storm door. There was a slight squeak as he pulled the door open.
The second door opened noiselessly. He slipped off his loafers before entering. Using a small flashlight, he made his way through the living room, and then into a hallway. He passed the bedroom of Michelle's mother and made his way to Michelle's bedroom door.
He pushed the door open and crept to her bedside. For a long moment he stood there looking down at her. He would awaken her an instant before pulling the blade across her neck, so that she would know her fate. That was important to him.
He pulled the switchblade from his pocket, and opened it with a soft click. She moaned softly and turned facing toward the wall. It presented no problem for him, for her throat was still exposed. As he held the knife near her throat, a feeling of such euphoria came over him that he had to control his shaking. He now had the ultimate power over another human being; the power of life and death.
As he gazed down at her, exulting over his power, he caught a slight movement in the corner of the room. He looked to see a dark, shadowy figure standing there. As he stared at the figure, two glowing eyes formed, looking directly at him. He gasped, and Michelle stirred again.
Never taking its glowing eyes off of him, the figure advanced. "Irene," he yelled, "you can't do this. No, no, you think you're gonna scare me but you can't."
Michelle screamed and jumped from her bed. As she started to run for the door, her foot became entangled in the sheets and she fell. There was a thump as her head hit the floor. She lay still, face down.
The figure kept advancing toward Alfred. "No! Go away. You're a spirit and you can't hurt me. You're not scaring me, Irene."
When the figure was near enough, he swiped at it with his switchblade. "I'll kill you again, dammit." The blade went harmlessly through thin air. The shadowy figure vanished.
Michelle stirred and moaned.
He again turned his attention to the girl, who was now trying to raise herself from the floor. He reached down with his left hand and grabbed a handful of her hair as his right hand held the knife ready. She gasped as he pulled her head back to expose her throat.
Suddenly the lights came on.
He spun around to see Mrs. Fletcher in her wheelchair. He cursed and ran at her with his knife, but as he did, he saw something in her hand. There was a roar and Alfred felt as if he'd been punched in the chest. He looked down to see blood oozing from the wound. The knife slipped from his fingers and clattered on the floor.
Another roar was the last sound Alfred Jenkins ever heard.
THE END
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