My name is not important and my occupation even less so, but the account of what happened to Mister Oria is very significant. My view of the world has changed dramatically, in part due to that day in the middle of February. I think it is important to begin by stating a few facts about Mister Oria, first name Arthur. He was a short man that wore thick rimmed glasses in front of big, round brown eyes, his head was full of dark brown hair that occasionally fell in front of his eyes like an ungroomed Shih Tzu. He was a thin man that walked with his hands clasped behind his back and would stare into a person’s eyes without any hesitation. Per my description, this man was just a regular average individual, nothing special about him. He was a generous and amicable man, but aside from that you would pass him by without even looking twice. He worked as a janitor at the local high school in Nara, California.
Mister Oria came to my attention due to a case that came across my desk. In recent years, two high school students had disappeared. Only their accessories were found scattered across the barren land between Sacramento and Nara. Accessories such as a watch with a leather band, a heart-shaped pendant, cell phones, a gold bracelet and things of that nature. One disturbing item that was discovered were braces with pink rubber bands that were meant for one of the high school kids, a girl.
We started investigating relatives, and school workers. One by one, taking down notes, checking alibis, and generally trying to find some sort of lead. Nothing materialized. The high school kid’s parents were distraught at the fact that they could not find answers. Finally, we came across a janitor, a man that did not have any family, Mr. Oria.
The students were a couple and described by many as calm and outgoing. Nobody recalls any negative traits because maybe they are not important, but to me, everything is important. This case was on the verge of becoming an unsolved mystery, but my partner and I decided to head over to Arthur Oria’s residence. We drove from Sacramento to Nara, my notes piled into a manila folder.
Nara California is a strange town, the population is close to 60,000. There was a time when many began to leave Nara due to the scarcity of gold and unfulfilled dreams; what was once was so prominent in Northern California. I recall as a child I used to visit my aunt and uncle with my parents. They would complain about the influx of foreigners from odd places of the world, Russia, Israel, Iraq, and a few other places that left a bad taste in their mouth. They cherished their town, but soon after started to complain as do most about the neighborhood not being “what it used to be.” After this big boom, some hard times followed and many left. Most did not look back at this town surrounded by nothingness.
Arthur Oria saw the increase and decrease in people, foreigners and natives. From our records, he has always lived in Nara, and has never held any other position aside from his custodial duties. His home consisted of old wood with bleached white paint. It was a two story house that had been left to him by his parents. Our records indicated that he did not marry, did not have children, and lived a very minimalist and repetitive life. His porch had one lawn chair, and splintered pieces of wood due to low maintenance and care. As we walked up the steps, each one made a distinct creak or moan as if our weight was the cause of great pain to the old house.
I knocked on the door, my notes and files under my right arm. I waited patiently, and then tapped the wooden door again. I looked back at my partner who shrugged. I was about to knock once more before I heard a muffled voice from inside say, “Yeah, I’m coming, give me a second.” I lowered my hand and waited, I couldn’t make anything out from the stained glass on the wooden door. Suddenly, a figure spooked me as it seemed to appear out of nowhere behind the stained glass that decorated the wooden door. The door opened up slowly and there he was, Arthur Oria, looking at me.
“Hello Mister Oria, my name is Detective Isaac Richter and this is my partner Detective Mark Sanders. Do you have a minute to talk with us?” I spoke as soon as I was able to make out his face.
“Concerning what exactly, sir?”
“Well, we are investigating the disappearance of a few kids.”
“The high school kids?”
“Yes sir.”
“You think I had something to do with it?”
“This is just normal protocol, we need to cover our bases or else we wouldn’t be doing a decent job. This won’t take long.”
“Fine.” He left the door open as he turned around and walked deeper into the house. I looked back and Mark and nodded as we followed Mister Oria. We walked through his house, the floorboards creaking sporadically. He finally pointed to a sofa couch facing a coffee table and television. We both obliged and sat down. As soon as we sat down he said, “May I get my tea?” We both nodded. “Would you two like some? Don’t worry it’s already made, I just need to bring it here.” We both nodded again.
He brought over a tea pot with two, plain white mugs. He poured some tea in both. I stared at the pale yellow liquid as it filled up our cups. He finally sat down on a chair near the coffee table with his bright, green mug. He took a sip and said, “Okay, what’s the question?”
“Right.” I moved the manila folder onto my lap and opened it up. I pulled out a few of its contents and said, “You work as a janitor at the Nara High School, correct?”
He nodded.
“Did you ever see these two kids around the school?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose, sir?”
“Yah, well I see many kids, but I have never really focus on one or two. Not until I saw pictures of them did I sort of remember seeing them at the school.”
“Oh, I see.” I jotted down a few notes, at this time, I will be honest I don’t remember what those notes were. “Okay, can you recall the last time you might have seen them?”
“Yes, Friday, I believe.”
“So, you remember seeing them? After seeing pictures of them or before?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you mentioned that you only recall who they were because of pictures, the kid’s parents claim they disappeared Saturday afternoon. So, do you recall seeing them after the fact, or do you actually recall seeing them at-“
“Wait, when did they disappear?”
“Saturday sir…um…let me see here,” I rustled through some papers as my partner kept writing a few more notes, “Here it is, February 4th, a Saturday, so three weeks ago or so.”
“No, I saw them this Friday.”
“This…Friday? The 17th?” I stared at him as he looked me in the eyes and nodded.
I quickly started jotting some more things down because this was an incredible breakthrough in the case. “Okay sir, where did you see them?” He leaned back a bit and sipped his tea. I sat at the edge of my seat as I waited for his answer.
“That’s tough.”
“Meaning, sir?”
“Well, have you ever seen or heard someone and then you look for them and they aren’t there? A passing shadow, a distant voice, you know what I mean?”
“Sir, I’ll be frank with you, this information you have provided is something that could be very good in getting these kids back to their parents, or at least provide some much needed information.”
Mister Oria put his mug down, leaned forward and said, “Do you believe in the supernatural Detective?”
“Like in ghosts?” My partner chimed in quickly. Mister Oria looked over at him and said, “No, something more sinister than that.”
“Mister Oria, if you have information on these kids, we need to know.” I ignored my partner and Mister Oria’s exchange, desperate to get answers. “Okay, I’ll show you, but I can’t promise that things will go well.” He stood up and walked into a different room.
I turned to my partner and said, “This might be it Mark.” He looked at where Mister Oria disappeared into and said, “Isaac, something doesn’t feel right with him. He knows these kids are missing, I am sure he knew when they were reported missing. Why is he so nonchalant about this information? Why didn’t he come forward before?” Before I could answer Mister Oria emerged from a dark room and sat back down in his chair. He placed a small vial with purple dust in it.
“Detectives, I have a question. Do you know the story of Saul and the medium?”
“Mister Oria, I think we need to speed up the process of fin-“
“Detective Sanders, please, this is important.” Mister Oria shifted his glasses as he looked up at Detective Sanders. He stared at him and for the first time since they began talking Mister Oria’s eyes showed a tinge of emotion, fear. “Now, the story goes: Saul and his people were surrounded by the Philistines, and he had just banished all the mediums from the land. The problem was that he now had the enemy at their doorstep, so he prayed to god, but to no avail. He began to feel fearful and desperate,” as Mister Oria spoke he opened the vial with the dust in it. He started to lay it on the coffee table, sprinkling it with his left index finger and thumb. “Saul sought out a medium. Do either of you know why?” He stopped and looked up at both of us.
I had heard of Saul, David and other kings, but never about this specific story, so I shook my head. I believe Detective Sanders did the same because Mister Oria nodded and continued sprinkling the dust on the table. “By this time the prophet Samuel had passed. Samuel was Saul’s advisor, the one who spoke of what god wanted and expected from Saul. The purpose of visiting the medium was so that Saul could once again get advice from the dead prophet. The story states that the medium conjures up a man with a robe and Saul quickly claims that it is Samuel. The figure gives an ill-bearing warning to Saul.” Mister Oria, stops sprinkling the dust and closes the vial, “The figure tells Saul he will die in battle pretty soon.”
I had patiently waited and listened to Mister Oria, but my eagerness for more information got the best of me and I said firmly, “Mister Oria, please, where did you see the kids?! Think about it as if they were your own, would you not want to know? If you continue this meaningless conversation, I will have to take you in and that will not be pleasant for anyone.”
Mister Oria did not look at me, but looked straight into his wall. He placed both hand on the coffee table and said, “I can show you where I saw them, but let me finish.”
I suddenly got a nauseating feeling in my stomach, was he going to confess to us something horrible? I wasn’t entirely sure, but the pit of my stomach tightened as he continued to speak.
“What the story doesn’t tell us is the following: if indeed that figure was Samuel, and it also omits where the medium came from. For years this information was unknown, but a while back, it was revealed. This might not seem important to most, but it is because it reveals a terrible truth.” He clenched the edges of the coffee table so hard that his knuckles began to turn white.
“The medium was Sumerian, an ancient race. The figure, was not a ghost of someone who had passed, but something dark and conniving. The medium opened up, for a brief moment, a window into things that live side by side with us.” He looked over at both of us and said, “That, Detectives, is where I saw those kids.”
I looked at him intently, Detective Sanders tapped my shoulder lightly, and I looked back at him. His face was puzzled as he pointed at the coffee table. My eyes traveled to the coffee table and I realized that Mister Oria was not just sprinkling the purple dust haphazardly, but rather he was drawing out something on the coffee table. He had drawn a grotesque figure, it was an image of something that resembled a holy symbol bastardized to reflect an unholy union. I cannot describe it any better than that, but I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized that this man was performing some sort of ritual. “Mister O-“before his name could escape my mouth he slammed the coffee table with the palms of his hands and yelled something that sounded like an incantation. The dust all rose into the air from the force with which he slammed the table. It rose as if levitating right above the coffee table and suddenly I heard groans and moans all around us. The room melted away slowly, I stood up and fell back down into my seat. I looked back at Detective Sanders and he had a fearful look in his eyes.
“Mark! Mark! Can you hear me?!” I reached out to him, but my hand did not move. He sat looking up in a catatonic state at where the ceiling was melting away. I looked over at Mister Oria and he seemed to be suspended in time, the palms of his hands on the table. “Stop this! What are you doing?!” My mind began to race, the tea! It had to have been the tea! This old man had drugged us, or worse, poisoned us!
Suddenly, as the walls around us melted away, I saw them. A horrifying image, the two kids, the girl, the boy. I saw them standing in a field. Their bodies stiff and upright, their eyes, oh god, their eyes were gone. Just black nothingness was where there eyes should have been. Their mouths wide open, with no teeth. I watched in horror as I heard more groans and moans. Behind the body of the boy, I saw something horrible, something I cannot fathom. I saw a thing, a creature peek from behind the boy, peeking as if playing a child’s game. Peeking as if hiding from me, but wanting to see where I was. It had, eyes, eyes everywhere. Eyes on its head where hair should have been, eyes all, eyes down to where something like a mouth was located. Suddenly Mister Oria said, “We need more sacrifices Detective. I do not wish to do this, but I cannot wither away. This time, this time, I have to go for a bit, and suffer for my indiscretion. For my sins.”
Suddenly, a loud scream and then nothing. I fainted.
I woke up sitting on that old couch. “Detective Sanders! Mark!” I stood up and looked around, I was alone. It was quiet. I looked at where Mister Oria had been sitting and only saw his glasses on the floor. I looked at the coffee table and there was nothing there, the teapot had been moved to the ground earlier by Mister Oria. Where Detective Sanders had been sitting, all I found was, his notepad, his cell phone, and something…that resembled cavity fillings. I ran out of that god forsaken house, got into my car and drove back to the station. I have been typing this for the last hour, but I saw something, I got a glimpse of a world that I should not have seen. I think about Detective Sanders, and I wonder about his fate, was he the sacrifice? Was it Mister Oria? Is he somewhere with a stiffened body and no eyes within his eye sockets? I shudder at the thought. I still feel a cold chill in my spine, and I hear something at times. I believe whatever window I looked through, something stuck with me, something sinister. I will leave this document here for someone to read, I might go back to that house and ransack every nook and cranny to find answers, but what if I find that window again? Or worse, what if something came through that window without my knowledge and whatever it was resides in that house?