Following Advice

​There are many things to be said about ‘signs’. I don’t mean the ones left by the side of the road that tell you when to stop or keep going. I don’t mean the ones that ‘aliens’ leave us in the crop fields. I mean the signs that life shows you when you are doing something right or wrong. Often, early in my life, like the rest of us, when we did something wrong there was somebody there to punish us. I don’t know who is punishing me, but I know it is exactly what I deserve.

​Her body lay in the basement, still as stone. I knew very well that I could not move the body, hide it, bury it or anything. It lay there for nearly two weeks and everytime I went down there and saw her I would fail in confidence and return upstairs. The smell grew too intense and it hit me then that the basement would be her final resting place. I worked the basement, coating the walls in a solution that would contain the smell. Every crack was fixed and covered with the stuff. Sealer and special paint had its own noxious smell, but it could not overpower the smell of the corpse beneath the tarp.

Once I had done that I sealed the doorway. My renovations went on for close to four days, but it was worth it. I had effectively walled away my problems, but even a man a cold as me could still feel an intense displeasure in sleeping in a home that you knew housed a murder victim as well. Of course, I had to try.

I eased myself to sleep the first night, but was confronted by the first taste of punishment. A nightmare that followed me wherever I went. In my nightmare I was in my bed the same night. I scratched my head, the grinding noise of nail on my hair filled my ears, but when I took my hand away the sound persisted. I held my head to see if there was something there, I tested my ears, but nothing could stop that awful noise.

The grinding soon turned from nail on hair to the sound of something sawing through wood. It didn’t fill my ears now, it filled the room. As soon as it all began it stopped...and then I fell. The floor creaked and eventually buckled. The wood cracked as my floor descended down to the first floor. It only stopped me for a second and the floor broke as well. After the final back-breaking jolt, I was in the basement, bleeding from splintering wounds. Alone in darkness, but fully aware that I was in the room I sealed away.

I looked in the direction of the tarp and could see the shape of the body still covered. I moved my hands to push myself out of bed, but felt them crossover something cold. Turning to face the pillow next to mine I saw her, cold, pale and rotting beneath the covers beside me. Her deathly head turned to face me and she stared at me with the saddest, but most terrifying eyes I had ever seen.

I woke up screaming, no longer in my room. I was laying in front of the fresh wall that sealed off the doorway to the basement. I must have moved in my sleep, because there was no way I would sleep there. The next night was the same, a nightmare with her, watching me. I could not take it any longer and decided it would be best if I escaped the home where it all began. I climbed into my car and drove till I couldn’t drive any further. The nearest motel would have to be my place to sleep for that night.

Once I did find a motel I entered the lobby to find an old woman behind the counter. When I asked for a bed she began filling out a form. She asked for all the necessary information, name, time of stay, but then she asked a question I stammered to answer.

“Reasons for staying?” the old woman droned.

“I...uh...I need a place to...sleep for the night?” I replied, I don’t know why it was so difficult for me to lie.

“How many?” she asked.

“Um...one?”

“Where is she now?”

At this point it felt like I was in another world. She was asking me where the body was...she was asking how many I killed as well…

“She is in my home basement...she is beneath the tarp...she is rotting and I...I can’t sleep with her there in the house.”

The old woman looked up at me plainly. She showed no fear of me or what she was hearing. She reached for the phone and began to dial.

“Wait...the door to the basement is sealed off...it’s going to be hard to get in there.”

“That is more than enough information,” she replied, cutting me off with a wave. “Here is the key to your room. Try to get a good night's rest and we will deal with it while you sleep.”

I went to the room, following her advice to the letter. At no point in the conversation did I pick up the signs. I truly believed that this old woman was going to sort out all my problems and I fell asleep with ease. The nightmare didn’t return, but that was because I was in another. When I woke up it was due to the police that were handcuffing me in my own bed.

I was escorted from my home as the police tore through the wall into my basement. I saw them gag from the smell as the pushed my through my front door. The neighbours watched as I was forced into the car and I sat there in silence as the policeman read my rights. According to the short trial that occurred a few days later I had called 911 and told an old woman on the other side the entire story. I told her where I lived, where the body was and how I did it...everything that I told the motel woman.

Since the woman could tell I was not mentally sound she ordered me to stay put as she took care of everything. It was the best advice I had ever been given, because the nightmares would soon end once I sat in that special chair. I would close my eyes and fall into darkness, free.