I CAN SEE MURDER VICTIMS BY JD HORROR
Read it yourself, or check out my narration here… https://youtu.be/Y4D9ue8HLLs?si=Ggkt1fmrCB4R28_T
I wake up and I see Troy. He watches me from the corner of my bedroom. Damn, this place is a mess. He looks at me as if he’s judging me, like the smug asshole he probably was when he was alive. I know people like that, and they piss me off. He was 43 years old at his time of death, and balding. He was one of those sleazy car salesmen who would give you a great deal knowing that the car he just sold you would break down within a month. He had two kids whom he only saw the first and third weekend of every month. When he wasn’t working, or suffering through visits with his children, he was at the bar getting drunk… like sloppy drunk. And he tipped like shit.
For Troy, it’s different now, he’s missing an eye. He was held down by straps, and it was crudely scooped out with a box cutter, then his murderer forced it down his throat. That must have been horrible for him. I wonder if he watched himself choke to death. He’s missing a few other appendages as well, all of which were removed while he was still breathing.
“Can you please stop looking at me like that, dude? This happens every morning, there’s nothing I can do about that till I hit the head.”
He’s not the only ghost I see, but he was the first one. By my count, I’ll see 16 murder victims throughout my day. I get out of bed and make my way to the washroom to relieve myself after a solid 8 hours of sleep. I sleep like a baby. I know who I’ll see in there. Crystal. She was 25 when she met her demise and she’s a special one. When her body was found, it was immediately ruled a suicide. It wasn’t though. She was stalked for 3 weeks, her every move watched and noted. She didn’t even know she was being hunted until she woke up in her bathtub, already bleeding out. There was nothing she could do. Her murderer watched her take her last breath. What a way to wake up in the morning. Unlike Troy, she won’t… or can’t follow me around and watch me all day every day. She mostly stays in the tub all naked and wrinkly. I’ve offered her a towel many times to cover up, or…
“For fuck’s sake get out of the damn bath so other people can take a shower. Shit!”
I turn my back to them both to avoid their judging eyes, as I awkwardly position my morning salute. I sigh as the 8 hours of collected fluid drains from my bladder. I flush the toilet, adjust the pants I slept in and turn around.
I shake my head in disappointment, looking Troy in his one remaining eye as I walk past him to exit the washroom. I hear him limping behind me as I walk down the hallway of my one-bedroom apartment. It sounds wet as he hobbles after me, on the blood-dripping stump left at the bottom of his ankle. The mess he would be making if he wasn’t a ghost would really piss me off, but I try to ignore the phantom anger building up in me.
I enter my kitchen, and hit start on my coffee machine. I pick up the remote from the counter that separates the kitchen and the living room, and turn on the TV that’s mounted to the wall. On the couch, and now staring at me is Jeffery. He was 39 years old when he was murdered. His big, bald, decapitated head sits gingerly on his lap as his hand picks at the open wound between his shoulders, where this head used to be attached.
His body has yet to be found, and I’m starting to think it never will be. Even if they do find it, they won’t find the head that goes with the corpse. His murderer made sure of that. The last time his family saw him, he was on his way to work. His wife kissed him deeply before he walked out the front door. After 14 years of marriage, they were still madly in love. She’s been a wreck for the last 3 weeks since he’s been missing. A part of me feels bad for her, but what can you do ya know?
Troy has made his way to the kitchen now, and I pull two coffee mugs from the cupboard. I offer one to him and he rolls his eye at me.
“Oh right, you probably want a beer, don’t you? Shit, I think eye’m-ball-out… get it! Eye ball out! No? Ok whatever.”
He walks away from me and I laugh at my own terrible joke as I put a mug back, then open the fridge to grab my hazelnut coffee creamer. I’ll drink a full pot of coffee while getting ready for work this morning. Same thing I do every morning. Jeff’s face seems to be mouthing something to me. I ignore him as my coffee finishes brewing. I eagerly fill my mug with a Colombian breakfast brew and sweet milky hazelnut. It burns going down, but I finish the entire drink in several big gulps. I get a refill and sip it on my way to the couch. I turn up the volume on my 52” and sit down next to Jeffie boy here. A reporter is live, standing in front of the park just down the street from my building where a new body was found. I wonder if they’ll still be there when I’m on my way to work.
This one is a teenage boy, 19 years old the day he died. His name is Trevor. I’ll see him walking out to my car in about 25 minutes when I leave. He loves dribbling his basketball right behind my car, always making it look like I’m going to run over him backing out of my spot. That’s how he was murdered in fact. He was run over intentionally while walking home from the very park his partially flattened body was found. Buried in a shallow grave in a small wooded area.
The police have combed the area multiple times looking for him. It’s a wonder, or maybe just lazy police work that they didn’t find him during the first two searches. I hear a gargled moan coming from the hallway outside my apartment door. I know immediately who it is. It’s Jen. She was 23 years old when her throat was slit. That’s all she does now. That gross gargle. Police suspected her boyfriend, as they usually do, and all the evidence pointed to him. He’s already served 3 years of a 25-year sentence. Poor guy, getting convicted of a murder he didn’t commit. That’s really gotta suck.
I finish my coffee and make my way back to the kitchen for round 3. My eyes are still glued to the TV and I almost run into Troy who’s been standing in the doorway of my kitchen.
“You’re always in my way, man. Get a life, will ya!”
Again, I chuckle to myself. I love bugging him. He just stands there lop-sided with a blank expression on his face. I do a quick rinse of my pits in the kitchen sink, then once again head to the washroom. I put deodorant on, and brush my teeth. I hear sloshing in the tub behind me as Cristy shifts her body so she too can watch me.