Jagged Reality

“Dear Lord. This place looks like a cyclone went through it.”

“It’s an abandoned building, Harry. What do you expect? Come on, up here.”

Jasper and Harry carefully wound their way through the rubble littering the once beautiful suburban home, stepping over broken knickknacks and dodging fallen lamps. Throughout the neighborhood, wild stories abounded as to what happened to the family who had lived there. Heinous mass murder? Bizarre occult ritual? In this small, quiet Pennsylvania town, some explanation had to be provided, with or without the facts to support it. A year and a half later, though, the official investigation still struggled to find the answer to the Marshall family’s disappearance.

“So, tell me again, Jasper, why we have broken into this forsaken house for an evening of exploratory trespassing. You know, I heard someone say the Marshalls turned this place into a gateway to hell, and they were subsequently dragged into the netherworld by savage and sadistic demons.”

Jasper stopped on the steps and returned his friend’s comments with a look of annoyance.

“I said I heard it. I didn’t say I believed it. Besides, you still didn’t answer my question, Jasper. Why exactly are we here? You said you saw something?”

“I walked past here the other day, a pleasant stroll on a brisk fall day. Normally, I don’t even look at this house, because -- well, you know -- but on that day, Harry, I felt something or someone tell me I had to face the house. Almost like I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Tell you? You heard voices?”

“No, Harry, not voices. More like an overwhelming feeling. When I let my eyes fall upon the abandoned home, I glimpsed a figure of a woman in the window, looking down at me and holding her throat with one hand, while she pointed at me with the other. She looked distressed and melancholy, with large dark brown eyes pleading for help. For a moment, I stood transfixed, beholding this thing in the window that didn’t seem solid like you and me, but still seemed real. I briefly shut my eyes and rubbed them gently, trying to process what I had seen, but when I looked again, it was gone. Nothing in the window, no strange feelings, as if I had dreamt the whole thing.”

“Uh huh. And did you tell Madelynne and the kids about this experience?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. The story would scare the hell out of the kids, and Madelynne would say that I was overtired, that I imagined the whole thing, or maybe even something worse. But I know what I saw, and it’s not the only time either.”

“OK, Jasper, then what other bizarre things have you witnessed here? Please share, because I’d like to know.”

The two men entered the master bedroom and surveyed the remnants of the once-happy, once-present Bill and Sandy Marshall. The queen-sized bed sat perfectly decorated with satin throw pillows atop the finely embroidered comforter, and Sandy’s vanity still featured some bottles of perfume, though the rest of the beauty bottles and makeup cases lay shattered and cracked on the floor.

“This room doesn’t seem to be as messy as the downstairs. New carpet? So, Jasper, what else have you observed?”

“The day after the first incident, as I drove by the house on my way to work, I felt overcome by the need to stop the car immediately and survey the house. She stood in the window, this apparition or whatever it is, and again held one hand to her throat while she used the other to point at me. Then she slowly moved her one hand away, and as she did, streams of blood poured down her neck and onto her ivory dress. Her eyes held mine for a moment while she slightly opened her mouth like some sort of cry for help. I finally managed to break from her puissant gaze and found myself breathing heavily. When I caught my breath and returned my sights to the window, the whole scene had evaporated.”

Jasper caught the expression on his friend’s face, and he knew its precise translation.

“You don’t believe me, do you, Harry?"

“I’d like to believe you, but your story doesn’t make sense. I mean, come on, Jasper. This family disappeared, which I will grant you possesses a hint of intrigue, but you’re talking about some woman bleeding from the neck, who magically vanishes as soon as you look away. It’s nonsensical. Aside from the fact that everything is in disarray, I don’t see anything to even suggest that someone was injured here. It seems to me that your brain has again taken your existing superstition and obsession concerning this house and its previous occupants and manufactured some twisted visions to account for problems in other areas of your life.”

“Is that the official diagnosis of the university’s psychology department, or is this your diagnosis as a friend and colleague?”

“Look, Jasper, all I’m saying is that this isn’t the first time your mind has gotten the better of you. It’s only been about a year and a half since your mental breakdown; when you were convinced something terrible had happened to the Marshall family; when you were lingering around the house and speaking to the police; when you became paranoid someone was watching you, following you.”

“And I thank you again for betraying my confidential discussions with you by sharing the details with Madelynne and the dean.”

“Believe me, that was the hardest thing I ever had to do, Jasper, but it was necessary. You needed help. Don’t think I made that decision lightly. Besides, you weren’t my patient; you spoke to me as a friend, and I reacted in the manner I believed a friend should. I worried for your state of mind and for your safety. Now I’m worried you’re traveling the same disillusioned road on which you previously embarked and that your mind may not be strong enough to return from this second voyage.”

A thick blanket of silence and tension wrapped around the two men as they stood staring at each other in the jilted bedroom. Visibly irritated, Jasper’s breathing became faster and heavier, and Harry strove to dissipate the current strain between them.

“OK, for argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right, and there really appeared in the window a woman from one plane of existence or another. Why are we here now? What are you searching for?”

“I’m not sure, Harry. I just feel like she’s attempting to convey some sort of message. She materialized in this window over here, so maybe there’s something in this room that will unveil the mystery. She’s imploring me to help her, and I can’t ignore the request.”

Jasper began to examine the room, peering in dresser drawers and analyzing the personal belongings of Sandy Marshall. The more he searched, the more frenzied he became.

Harry studied the behaviors of his friend with a keen eye, disliking each new move with increased trepidation.

“You don’t seem to be finding anything, Jasper. Perhaps that’s enough searching for one day.”

“Well, you’re not helping me either, Harry. Could you make some effort, any effort at all, to sift through these personal effects with me?”

Jasper’s agitation steadily increased, watching as his friend stood motionless and his own inspections proved fruitless. A rabid flash of frustration and indignation surged through Jasper’s eyes.

Choosing his words carefully, Harry attempted to calm his exasperated companion.

“Hey, look, it’s getting late, Jasper. Why don’t we stop here for now, I’ll drive you home to Madelynne and the kids, and then we’ll resume our work here in a couple days or so? Sound good?”

“Why, Harry? So you can tell Madelynne that I’ve slipped through the folds of sanity again? So you can advise the dean that I’m going to need to take some personal time once more; that it’s best if I’m not around the students right now?”

“Jasper---”

“No! Now I know that I saw this woman, and I’m going to ascertain why. With or without your help.”

Entering the walk-in closet, Jasper rooted through Sandy Marshall’s delicate dresses and stylish shoes, hoping to find the one piece of evidence to solve this riddle and ease his mind. As he leaned against the inner wall, he suddenly felt the lower panel give way under his weight.

“Hey, Harry, come here! Look at this. It’s a hidden area in the wall. Goes back quite far, too. Oh, my god, are those drops of blood? Harry, get over here! Harry?”

Jasper rose from the floor, prepared to confront his friend who seemed to be ignoring him. When he turned around to step out of the closet, Jasper barely had a moment for his mind to comprehend the situation before Harry fired the bullet into Jasper’s brain, killing him instantly.

“Damn it, Jasper! You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? I knew the cops would never uncover the truth, but that sharp mind of yours concerned me. A year and a half ago, when you continually snooped around, determined to discover what really happened to the Marshalls, I managed to convince your family, the dean, and half our colleagues that your grasp on reality had slipped. I reasoned if I could have you drugged and overanalyzed at Bryburg Mental Hospital for a little while, by the time of your release, you wouldn’t want to come anywhere near this damn house.”

Harry paced the floor, waving the gun as he gesticulated frantically, not yet considering how he would conceal the pool of blood that had begun to encircle Jasper’s head and seep into the beige carpet.

“You want to know what happened to your beloved Marshall family? They didn’t mind their own business, just like you. An altercation one night with my girlfriend Suzanne led to her accidentally tumbling down the stairs and snapping her neck. I feared if I reported the incident to the police, I’d be charged with murder, so I decided instead to bury her body late one night.

“Bill witnessed my tending to these affairs in the open area behind his house, and though I don’t think he realized the true nature of the events, I couldn’t risk discovery. I awaited the moment I knew he’d be alone, charmed my way into the house with friendly banter, and after a slight struggle, shot him. All would have concluded satisfactorily if that bitch Sandy hadn’t returned early from soccer practice with the kids. They saw too much. I silenced the children first, quick and painless. By the time I reached Sandy, my six-shooter had run out of bullets, leaving me to slit her throat, which proved much messier than I anticipated and left greater room for error. What should have been a simple remedy became a complicated ordeal.

“Now, Jasper, are you happy you finally know? You always---”

Harry’s vocal cords seized when he suddenly beheld a figure walking steadily towards him: a woman in an ivory dress, with one hand clutching her throat and the other pointing directly at him. He stumbled back a few steps, trying to escape the apparition’s advance but unable to avert his eyes from his pursuer.

“No, it can’t be. You’re dead. I know you’re dead. I...”

On his next step backwards, Harry slipped on the broken cosmetic cases strewn about the floor and desperately grasped at the vanity for support before falling like a klutzy ballerina. As his eyes, wide and disbelieving, gawked at the figure, he failed to notice the precarious vanity mirror teetering on its edge. When the phantom woman took another step towards him, Harry screamed in terror and knocked against the vanity, inviting the mirror to fall with the fury of a guillotine’s blade.

With a mask of horror and dread to be forever worn, Harry’s head landed with a thud; his lifeless eyes reflecting the satisfied grin of Sandy Marshall’s vengeful spirit.