With a slash of his knife, he loosened her bowels on the pavement.
No… that’s not right.
With the precision of a surgeon he…
No, no, no. Still not there…
He buried his blade in her belly and watched her eyes widen with terror as he twisted it left, then right. A scream gurgled in her throat as he retrieved the knife, spilling intestines on the asphalt.
Better…
Now we were getting somewhere.
*Knock, knock*
Two sharp rasps at the front door made me nearly jump out of my skin and drop my laptop.
I glanced at the clock.
1:37am.
Who on earth could that be?
I stood from my chair and reluctantly made my way to the foyer.
I listened for a moment, waiting to see if there would be another knock, but was only met with silence.
Looking through the peephole I saw nothing but my porch light spilling across the yard. Not a soul in sight.
I opened the door slowly, just enough to get a full view but still able to slam it shut before someone could rush in.
A side effect of being a horror writer was developing a healthy sense of paranoia. Constantly imagining the very worst side of humanity unfortunately bled over into real life.
Once I was sure it was clear I swung the door open wide, revealing a package sitting on the welcome mat. It was a small cardboard box with the flaps folded shut. There was no writing, no postage, nothing.
I prodded it with my foot, but it didn’t move.. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, for something to jump out?
Although it seemed harmless enough, the time at which it came and the mystery of its bringer gave it a menacing glow.
I shuddered at the thought of taking it inside and decided I should open it out here. After mustering a sliver of courage I bent down and carefully unfolded one flap at a time.
I gasped and recoiled from it.
A wet hunk of meat glistened in the light. It looked purple and fresh. Blood pooled at the bottom where it hadn’t been fully absorbed by the cardboard yet.
Bile rose in the back of my throat as I turned away.
What… the… fuck…
I mouthed silently as I rested my forehead on the vinyl siding of the house.
I managed to gather enough composure to head inside and call the police. By the time the first blue lights spun across my living room ceiling I was two whiskey sours deep. I needed something to calm my nerves.
Upon a quick inspection of the box the patrol officer called in forensics.
Within the hour a small crew of uniformed officials gathered in my yard, snapping pictures and taking bets on what the mystery meat actually was.
A portly detective finally arrived in an old Cadillac, causing the crowd to fall silent.
I’d been sitting on my porch swing, mindlessly swirling some ice in a glass when he sauntered across the yard to approach me.
“Mr. uh… Daniels is it?” He grumbled and held out his hand.
“Yes.” I stood. His massive sausage fingers swallowed my own.
“I’m Detective Beauford Grant, Homicide.”
“Oh… homicide?” A lump formed in my throat.
“Yes sir, standard procedure just in case that hunk of steak over there ends up being from a body. Which I’m not saying it is, we’ll have to wait until forensics takes a look at it in the lab.”
“Oh… okay.” I suddenly felt lightheaded.
“Let’s start at the beginning shall we?” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a small notepad and pen.
I nodded my head in agreement.
“Please describe your whereabouts since you woke up this morning.”
“I uh… well this morning I got up…”
“What time?” He interjected.
“Well I guess it was sometime around eleven.”
“No work today?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well you see, I’m a writer, it’s mostly late nights and even later mornings. I do my best writing when everyone else is asleep.”
“Ah. Okay, go on.”
“And then I went out to get coffee.”
“Where?”
“Joan’s. It’s a little coffee shop in town.”
He nodded to keep going while scribbling notes on the pad.
“Then I got back home around noon, did some laundry before finally cooking up some eggs and bacon around two. Then sorta, well just binged my favorite tv show until after dinner and started writing around seven.”
“And you live alone?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“And when did you notice the package?”
“Well, right around one thirty there was a knock at the door.”
“Someone knocked? Did you get a good look at them?”
“No, unfortunately I did not. When I got to the door they had already gone.”
“You didn’t see a car pull away or anything?”
“No… sorry.”
He let a heavy sigh escape his lips, which ruffled a large, gray mustache.
“Is there any reason someone would want to hurt or threaten you Mr. Daniels?” His stern gaze sent a shiver down my spine.
“Oh, no. I mean I don’t think so… you think this was a threat?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure but it would sure seem that way to me. Perhaps someone you’ve wronged in the past? A disgruntled ex-lover or friend?”
I shook my head. My mind spun, thinking of every bad thing I’d ever done to anyone. None of which seemed meaningful enough to warrant a serious threat.
“How about a fan?”
“A fan?” My face twisted in confusion.
“Are you published, Mr. Daniels? Your writing?”
“Oh… yes. Several novels.”
“Have you ever had a fan of your books become obsessive or violent towards you?”
“No… no, never.” The thought was appalling. An obsessive fan? I wasn’t even that famous of a writer, certainly not renown. I had a small cult following at best.
Another sigh ruffled the caterpillar above his lip.
“Well sir, I’ll make sure to leave a patrolman out front tonight if that’s alright with you? Just a precautionary measure.”
I nodded.
“I will be in touch once we get results back from the lab. Stay inside, lock your doors and make sure to call me if you can think of any other details we may have missed tonight.” He tucked his pad and pen back in his pocket and handed me a contact card.
“Yes sir, I certainly will.”
“Have a good night Mr. Daniels.”
“You too.” I called after his backside as he walked away.
And within ten minutes, everyone was cleared out except for the police car that parked on the street just across from my garage.
I spent the next several hours tossing and turning in my bed. Sleep escaped me as the detective’s words rattled around in my skull.
A friend?
A fan?
I tortured myself so long with the possibilities that eventually I found myself coping with denial.
Must have been a prank… some stupid teenagers being hoodlums.
Or maybe they got the wrong house, it was meant for a neighbor.
Deep down somewhere I knew I was lying to myself, but it was just enough relief to finally drift off to sleep.
——-
*Brrrrinnnnggg… Brrrrinnnnnggg…*
I leapt from the bed, my heart thundered in my chest as my vision swam.
*Brrrinnnggg… Brrrinnnnnggg…*
The house phone screeched like a siren from the kitchen, I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the alarm clock.
9:12am.
I’d only been asleep for a few hours.
My head pounded as I stumbled through the house. I yanked it from the receiver and cleared my throat.
“Hello?” I croaked.
“Good morning Mr. Daniels, this is Detective Grant.”
“Oh, yes, good morning.”
“I know you like to sleep in but we got our results back from the lab, and thought you’d want to know right away.”
“Was it from a… person?” I gulped, suddenly wide awake.
“No sir it was not. It was a pig’s heart. One that had been crudely cut out shortly before showing up on your doorstep.”
“A.. pig’s heart?”
“Yes. I’m thankful it was from swine and not an actual homicide, but the whole nature of the situation… well it bothers me Mr. Daniels.”
“It does?” My stomach did a flip in my abdomen.
“Well yes, it seems rather disturbing. And since it’s not officially a homicide I won’t be investigating it any further, but with your permission I would sure feel a lot better about the whole thing if you’d let me keep a patrolman around to watch over your well being for a few days?”
“Yes, that would be great, I really appreciate it.”
“That’s no problem at all. And if anything else should turn up on your doorstep or you notice any suspicious activity at all around you or your residence, please do not hesitate to call dispatch immediately.”
“Okay I’ll do that for sure.”
“Have a good day Mr. Daniels.”
“Thank you, you too.”
I held the receiver to my ear as the line went dead.
A heart from a pig?
What the hell was going on.
I hung up the phone and rubbed my temples.
A headache stormed across my head in a wave from lack of sleep. But there was no way I could go back to bed now.
Why would someone cut out the heart of a pig, carefully package it and leave it for me to find? I’d never been in a real conflict with anyone my entire life. Sure my writing may have been violent, but in reality I was a pacifist. Writing horror just came naturally to me, but I’d never sought out the things I wrote about in real life.
But apparently, some of it had found me.
After racking my brain on what to do and coming up empty, I decided to stick with my daily ritual of strong coffee and breakfast. What else could I really do?
I could see the patrol car following me at a distance from my rearview mirror.
I didn’t know why but knowing I was being watched by the police felt comforting and creepy at the same time.
I slid into a parking spot at Joan’s Coffee Shop.
The smell of coffee beans filled my nostrils as I entered the dining room. I suddenly felt a little lighter, a little less burdened. I was a coffee snob, and this was my favorite place. They always knew how to make the perfect cup of joe.
“Well you’re here early! You want the usual, Blake?” Mandy, the barista called from behind the service counter.
“Yes please!” I grinned.
“Coming right up.” She flashed me a big smile before disappearing behind a massive bean press.
Okay, she was another reason it was my favorite place. Sometimes when I had writer’s block, I’d sit in my chair and fantasize about asking her out. In my world, she’d always say yes and we’d be married within a year.
Seemed a bit too much to ask for I know, but when she had first called me by my name I had butterflies for days.
“Here ya go!” She slapped a big cup of caffeine heaven on the counter.
I started to pull my wallet when she held up her hands.
“Someone already paid for it, seems you have an admirer.” She winked.
“What, who?” My cheeks flushed, hoping it was her.
“Some guy came in and put twenty bucks on your tab earlier this morning. Said he was a fan.”
My heart sunk into the pit of my stomach.
A fan…
“What-ah… what did he look like?” The blood suddenly drained from my face.
“Oh he was a tall fella. Gangly too. Maybe, six-three, six-four. Black hair, kind of a big nose. You know him?”
“No I don’t…” I felt pale.
“Are you okay, Blake? Something wrong?” A look of concern washed over her face.
“Oh no I’m fine. But hey, could you let me know if he comes back?”
“Sure thing.”
I feigned a genuine smile, didn’t want to worry her. She returned it and I headed back outside.
Have you ever had a fan of your books become obsessive or violent towards you?
Detective Grant’s words hung in the air like a bad omen.
I held my breath and scanned the parking lot, looking for the patrolman. I loosened my shoulders and exhaled when I saw him in a lot across the street.
Good. He was still there.
But the feeling of security was short-lived as I approached my car.
There was a note tucked under the driver’s side windshield wiper.
I sat my coffee on the hood and carefully plucked the paper from under it.
I didn’t want to read it, but knew I had to.
The letter was written in sloppy cursive with dried water stains peppering the page.
“Dear Mr. Blake Daniels,
You have stared into the depths of my soul. You alone have understood my darkness. The anger and rage that dwells within. The sheer weight of it and how it desperately longs to get out.
Let’s release it together. Both of us. Let us purge the evil within together.
See you soon.
• A.”
I immediately panicked and waved down the uniformed officer. He sped over and had me get in the back of the cop car as he read the note and called it in.
I sat, wondering how my life had spiraled so out of control when just yesterday everything felt so normal.
After a few minutes a couple of police cars pulled up to assist. I saw my escort hand over the letter and make his way back to me.
“Mr. Daniels I’ve been ordered to take you home while they investigate the scene. I apologize but we’ll have to leave your car here so they can give it a look over, we can come back later to get it.”
“Okay… that’s fine.”
The ride home was a blur. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Mandy and what she’d think of me after seeing all the ruckus in front of her store. It seemed like a silly thing to worry about, but it was better than focusing on the fact that I was being stalked by a deranged fan.
Once I was in the door weariness weighed down on me like a two ton anchor.
I couldn’t do this anymore today.
I grabbed a Tylenol PM and went to bed, determined to sleep away the madness.
When I woke up, maybe all of this would be over. Maybe the cops would figure it out and this would all be like a bad dream.
Maybe things could be better.
Tomorrow.
—–
Something soft and warm caressed my face.
I swatted it away.
Again, something brushed my cheek.
I groaned and rolled over.
But suddenly, somewhere within the heavy fog of sleeping pills, I remembered that I lived alone.
I gasped and sat straight up in my bed.
“Blake Daniels. Finally.” A tall man sat at the end of my bed, he rested a large hand on my thigh.
I froze, unable to move.
“My name is Archibald Gray. But my mother calls me Archie. And I hope that you will do the same.”
“Uh-Oh-Okay A-Archie.” I stammered. Fear like I’d never felt before sat in my gut like a ball of ice.
“Blake, I am your biggest… no…. Only true fan. I’m the only one who understands your work. You and I are the same.”
His eyes gleamed with yearning as he rubbed small circles on the top of my leg.
“Tha-thank you.” It was the only thing I could think to say. My mind only screamed with impulses to run, to get away.
“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you for delivering me unto a salvation of self-enlightenment. I know now I’m not alone and that someone else feels the things I do.” He smiled, revealing a row of crowded and crooked teeth.
He reached out to touch my face once more but I recoiled.
His smile faltered a little.
“It’s okay, I know you don’t know me yet, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. And guess what?”
“What?” My voice sounded small and far away.
“I have a surprise for you. A gift. A gift for both of us.” He let out a giddy chuckle.
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to spoil it silly. Come! Come to the living room and you shall see! And we shall be delivered!” He slapped my knee and hummed joyously, beckoning me from the bed.
I stood. My knees wobbled and trembled but I followed him down the hall anyway. I didn’t know what else to do. He was twice my size, there was no way I could overpower him and get away.
It was dark in the living room, I couldn’t see anything.
“Are you ready Blake? Oh I just love saying your name.” Another high pitched giggle.
“Yes.” I braced myself, but what I saw when the light flicked on was worse than I could have imagined.
The police officer that had been watching me was tied up in one of my dining room chairs and in another about three feet away was Mandy from Joan’s Coffee Shop.
Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, begging for help. Her mouth was duct taped shut.
“Wha-what is this Archie?”
“It’s time for us to become who we truly are. I’ve read your books, I know who you are. Let us be free. Let us do it together!” He danced around the two awkwardly, his long gangly limbs flailing about to a song in his head.
“I don’t like this Archie…” My whole body trembled.
“What? Of course you do. Here let me go first so you can see and then you go, okay?”
Before I could answer he pulled a long knife from his belt loop and held it to the officer’s throat.
“This is just like in your book, Blood Oath, where the killer murders the detective’s partner. Watch.”
The cops eyes bulged from their sockets as he pulled the blade across his neck from ear to ear.
I screamed as blood poured down his chest by the bucketfuls.
“And then he did this, do you remember?”
Archie didn’t wait for me to answer, he went to work cutting the flesh under his jaw and pulling the tongue through the gaping hole in his neck.
“TA-DA! Columbian necktie!”
He held up his hands, looking as if I should have started clapping, waiting for his ovation. But instead I doubled over and heaved on the carpet.
“Oh come now, I thought you’d have a stomach for this. But I understand, it’s your first time, mine too. But I’ve had some practice on animals so I won’t hold it against you.”
Darkness crept in the corners of my vision, I thought for sure I was going to pass out.
“Now it’s your turn.” He sang.
Archie thrusted the hilt of the knife into my hand and gestured for me to use it on Mandy.
“This is just like in your book, TIl’ Death Do Us Part, where the husband kills his cheating wife and carefully covers up the crime.”
“But she’s… she’s not my wife.” Static filled the space between my ears so loudly I felt as if I were somewhere else.
“Oh I know, but I could tell you had a thing for her and she does have a boyfriend. So it’s like she’s cheating you out of a possible relationship. It’s close enough, don’t get lost in the details of the plot.” Archie waved at me dismissively, flinging specs of blood on my face from his crimson hands.
I had to do something, or Mandy and I both were going to die here in my house, right now.
I willed myself to approach the poor woman in the chair. She was weeping now, tears flowing freely down her face.
“Can you hold her head back for me? I want to make it a clean cut.” I tried to sound genuine and fought back the urge to piss myself.
“I… would be honored.” A tear actually fell down the sick bastard’s cheek, like he was deeply touched.
He ran both hands through her hair and then yanked it back, causing her to yelp beneath the tape.
Her heartbeat visibly pulsed in her throat.
Panic gripped my entire being but somehow I forced it down.
I gripped the knife as hard as I could and suddenly leapt over her and buried it to the hilt in Archie’s chest.
All three of us went sprawling to the floor.
I scrambled to my feet and instinctively put my hands up, ready for retaliation. But there was none to be had.
Archibald Gray lay on his back, blood trickling out the corners of his mouth as he desperately gasped for oxygen. Everytime he tried to suck in air it came out as a harsh whistling sound, a tell-tale sign of a punctured lung.
He turned his gaze to look at me.
He smiled.
He smiled deeply, showing blood stained teeth.
“Honored.” He mouthed just before his body began to spasm and then lie still.
Muffled screams erupted behind me.
“Mandy!” I spun around and quickly untied her.
She cried in my arms as I called the police.
Sirens filled my yard within fifteen minutes. They took Mandy in an ambulance to the hospital to give her a once over. I must have told her I was so sorry a dozen times, but it didn’t feel like enough.
An hour later I was at the police station where I was offered a blanket and a cup of coffee. For once in my life I didn’t want to drink it.
Detective Grant himself took my statement and after he was satisfied he offered me his deepest sympathies and sent me on my way.
I went out of town and stayed with my brother in Albuquerque for a while.
Months went by and despite the constant begging of my publicist, I hadn’t written another word. I wasn’t sure I could anymore.
They say it’s nearly impossible to make it as a successful writer these days, and if you’re lucky enough to gather a fanbase, you should hold on tight and give them what they want.
But sometimes what they want will kill you.