Staring into the darkness, all of his childhood fears came surging back into his memory, given just enough push to bring the images of human like dolls with unblinking eyes and malevolent smiles and the unexplained sounds in the pitch dark room which seemed to engulf him as a helpless child confined to the sheets under his hospital bed blankets.
Fearing the imminent knock on the door, the man pondered to himself the possible answers he could give to the policemen, as he lied awake staring at the ceiling from the old sofa. The situation would appear dire to anyone who would just enter the scene. An old fashioned pistol, undoubtely with his fingerprints all over the trigger and the handle, lay on the floor next to his neighbor’s body. The instances in the situation couldn’t have been worse either for him. The entire neighborhood knew of the fall out the pair had, after a dispute regarding money being lent, but never being repayed. He never felt so guilty. He meant to pay back the debt and it was quite generous of Bill to lend him quite the sum. It was the sum for him, at least, as Bill, as rumor had it, was quite the wealthy, but the means to his assets were unknown. It was simply hearsay and Bill made his home in this small falling apart neighborhood, which would give any outsider the impression that he was quite impoverished, as a reflection of his neighborhood. Nonetheless, rumors persisted of his wealth through perhaps unscrupulous methods, rumors of dark dealings with shadowy figures in the night, which spread throughout the neighborhood’s children as him having dealing with unearthly creatures and supernatural powers. Beyond his childhood fears, the man was a bit timid around Bill as he had a presence which would frighten anyone who could meet the man. It wasn’t so much his appearance as it was his presence. He rarely was seen outside his home and he didn’t much participate in idle chat with his neighbors and when one did happen to meet him out on the communal streets, his hurried gait and seemlingly aloof facial expression would deter anyone from trying to give a small salutation.
Lying asleep on the painful wooden bench, the young man awoke to a crisp crunch. Not much of a sound would be needed to wake him from his slumber, as the bench was hardly an ideal spot to take a nap. His day was over and after a grueling day in the sun, he thought he would simply sit down the bench to recuperate. The sitting became an arm leaning, which in turn became a lying, which was too much for the easily somberly seduced exhausted young man. Opening his eyes at the surprise sound, he looked around, searching for the source, but a quick cursory glance brought no culprit to fruition. It was the autumn and leaves were swirling around, with no precise direction, only as if the enjoy their fall and final farewell from the tree which gave them birth. A step on the leaves would have made the most sense, the young man thought. It was practically impossible to move anywhere without creating a crunch underfoot. Where had that crunch come from?
Hunting those murderous whales.
