Multi-Linear Refraction

Moses paused at the automatic opening doors and looked out across the parking lot. A slight drizzle had begun to fall and the shopping cart in front of him was full of groceries. Not thrilled at the idea of unloading his cart while standing in the rain, he moved out under the overhang and hoped that the rain would take a short break. But the rain seemed disagreeable at this point and continued its mediocre deluge. With a sigh, he hustled out from under his protection and hurried across the now nearly empty parking lot.

              Moving past an extremely large four-wheel drive truck whose owner certainly needed to use a step stool to enter, he caught sight of an elderly lady struggling with her own groceries. He stopped his own progress and slid his cart in between her car and the truck. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked, trying to step into her line of vision before speaking.

              “Oh hello, young man,” the woman answered. “Yes, that would be very nice. I wish they wouldn’t fill these bags so full. How can any normal person even lift them?”

              As she stepped back from her cart, Moses stepped in and carefully began moving the many bags into the trunk of her car. “This is an interesting car,” he said. “Is this one of these new electric models? I don’t think I’ve seen this one before.”

              “Electric, yes, I guess you could say that,” she answered.

              He finished putting the last bags into the trunk and stepped back. “Well, there you go, ma’am,” he said. “I hope you have someone at home that can help you unload. Those bags are awfully heavy.”

              “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said. “Here, I’ve got a little something for you. It was so kind of you to help,” Grabbing her purse, he began to dig around inside.

              “Oh no, ma’am, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’m glad I could help.”

              “Oh, I’m not going to pay you any money,” she said. “I have something much, much more valuable.” Pulling out a very unusual looking cellphone, Moses guessed, she held it up. “Here, tap your cell phone to mine,” she said. “It will automatically load a special app for you.”

              “Uh… okay,” he answered. “Are you sure it's safe? I really don’t want any spyware or bugs on my phone.”

              “Oh, it’s perfectly safe,” she answered, “you don’t have to worry about that.” Tapping his phone to hers, he slid it back into his pocket. Dropping her own phone back into her purse, she unlocked her car. “Now promise me that you’ll be very careful with the special gift I just gave you,” she said. “Be certain to thoroughly follow the directions. Things could go very wrong if you aren’t careful.” Climbing into her car, she started the engine and waited for Moses to move his cart and begin walking back toward his own vehicle.

              Opening his trunk, he turned to look back at the old woman, only seconds after stepping away but the old woman and her car were nowhere to be seen. “What the...? That’s weird. Where’d she go?” Scanning over the empty parking lot, there was no sign of her or anyone. The roads around the store were empty as well. “Hmm, strange,” he thought.

              Pulling into his driveway, he carried his groceries inside and stacked them in his pantry. Sitting down on the couch, he pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the black screen. Pausing for a moment, he wondered what he would find. “She better not have infected my phone with something weird or worse yet, erased it all. That’d be dumb.” Hitting the power button, his passcode screen came up and he punched in the numbers. The familiar photo of his cat Lewis popped up like normal and he breathed a sigh of relief.

              Swiping through the three main screens, he came across a small icon, bright yellow with two blue letter T’s. “Hmm, I’m guessing that’s it,” he said. Touching the icon, the image of a smiling young woman immediately showed up.

              “Hello,” she said. “Please enter your birth date.” Punching in the eight numbers, the screen turned black and did nothing. “Oh great, here we go. I knew it. She erased everything.” But then the image of the young woman reappeared.

              “Hello Moses,” she said with a smile. “I will need you to watch a few short videos before you begin to use this app. Each video is two to three minutes long and very easy to understand. I appreciate your cooperation.”

              Ten minutes later, Moses sat on his couch, looking at his phone and was not sure what to think. Letting out a long breath, he stood up and paced around the room. “This has to be some sort of prank,” he thought. “TT for time travel, yeah sure. Well, I guess it can’t hurt to try it out. I know nothing will happen because time travel is impossible. All right, here we go.”

              Picking up his phone, he selected the date range field but then paused. “Let’s make this easy,” he said. “I’ll set it to go back thirty minutes to the grocery store parking lot. Easy enough.” Setting the date and time, he opened the map app and zoomed in on the grocery store. “Okay, now I push the start button and close my eyes.” Following the instructions from the smiling young woman, he suddenly felt raindrops on his head and arms. Quickly opening his eyes, he stood at the far corner of the grocery store parking lot and could see himself talking to the old lady at the back of her car.

              “Oh, man, oh, man, what is going on?” he thought, “This isn’t possible.” Watching his interaction with the woman, he saw himself pull his phone from his pocket and touch her phone with his own. He watched himself retrieve his own cart and turn away towards his own car. As soon as he turned his back, the old woman looked at him across the parking lot and gave him a small wave. As she did, she and her car instantly disappeared. It was just suddenly gone, no sound, nothing, just gone.

              Pulling his phone from his pocket, he pressed the return icon and closed his eyes. Reopening them, he again stood in his living room at exactly the same moment he had just left. “This is too much, this is unbelievable, I… I… wow. The possibilities are endless.” Carefully setting his phone down on his kitchen counter, he paced around his house, his mind spinning with a million ideas. His eyes repeatedly looking across the room at the phone on the counter.

              Slipping into his bathtub later that evening, he just began to doze off when suddenly it hit him. He had been thinking about his own childhood and just now he saw it so clearly. “The lady said that I can go anywhere, anytime, as long as it's during the time when I’m alive. I can change events but I won’t be able to cause anyone else to not be,” he thought. “I’m going to see if I can change my childhood.”

              Now, wide awake, he tried to recollect as much as he could about his childhood, about his parents, about his brother and sister and about his school friends. “I guess I should start with something when I was really little,” he thought. Sitting up and realizing that the water had grown cold, he pulled the plug and ran a hot shower, trying to warm up. “Hmm, that gives me an idea,” he said. “They say that the childhood environment is super important. Maybe I’ll try to interact with my parents.”

              Looking at the clock as he dried off, he realized that it was already ten o’clock. “Shoot. It’s too late to do much now. Even if the time doesn’t pass while I’m gone from here now, it will still be time that I’ll be awake. Maybe I should sleep on it.”

              Finishing his breakfast the next morning, he finished getting ready for the day and pulled out his phone. Touching the TT icon, the smiling woman warmly greeted him. “It looks like you took your first trip yesterday,” she said. “I trust that went well for you. When would you like to go today?”

              Typing in his own birthday on the day he was born, only hours after his birth, he opened the map option and found the hospital. Touching the start icon, he closed his eyes and immediately felt the change in atmosphere, the change in temperature and the gentle breeze of the fresh outdoors. Opening his eyes, he found himself on the sidewalk outside of St. Joseph's Hospital. The weight of what lay before suddenly came upon him with a ferocity that surprised him. Sitting down on a bench near the entrance, he watched the doors, now suddenly unsure of himself.

              He sat until nearly dusk until finally he saw a young man emerge from the hospital. “I would recognize you anywhere,” he whispered under his breath. “Now where are you off to?” Watching the man climb into a pale red sedan, he noted the license plate and the direction he left. Flagging down a cab, he followed the car to a local bar and paying the driver, followed the young man inside.

              Stepping back out of the tavern, Moses realized that it was nearly midnight. “Well, that was interesting,” he thought. “Here, the guy just had a child and he’s down here pounding back more drinks than I could count. I hope that conversation accomplishes something.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he tapped the return icon and closed his eyes. The warmth and silence of his living room greeted him as he reopened his eyes. The clock read 8:04, as it had when he started this journey.

              Reaching for his car keys, he was suddenly struck by just how tired he had become. “Man, I better call in,” he thought, “I can’t be driving a forklift when I’m this tired.” Dropping his keys back onto the counter from where he had found them, he called in sick to work and lay down on his couch. Sitting upright, he realized that he had dozed off and it was now noon and he was incredibly hungry. “Hmm, there’s a thought,” he said. “Maybe I’ll swing by and visit the folks.”

              Again, grabbing his keys, he pulled out of his driveway and drove the fifteen minutes to his parent’s home. Walking up the sidewalk, he knocked on the door and let himself in, being greeted by a very fat and shiny golden Buddha in the entryway. “Whoa, I did not expect that,” he thought. Seeing his mother as he came in, he started across the living room.

“Hey, hey, wait a minute, Moses,” she said, “you didn’t take off your shoes,” she said, pointing at his feet.

“Oh, ha, yeah, sorry about that,” he said, feeling rather confused. “I took the day off work and thought I’d stop by for a visit.”

“Oh, that’s nice dear,” she said, “but you didn’t venerate the Buddha when you came in. Are you feeling okay?”

An hour later, he slipped back on his shoes and drove back home. “Phew, that was really bizarre,” he thought. “Looks like I’m going to need to take another trip back to visit dear old dad.” Letting himself back into his house, he turned on his phone, set the date, time and location for his third birthday at his childhood home. Tapping start, he closed his eyes and found himself on the deck by the front door. Ringing the doorbell, he was greeted by a much younger version of his mother.

“Hello?” she said, “can I help you?”

“Hello Kelly,” he answered. “I’m a co-worker of your husband and needed to stop by and see him about something for work. Is he home yet?”

“No, I’m sorry, he’s not,” she answered. “I don’t expect him for at least another hour. Would you like to leave a message for him?”

              “No, that’s okay,” Moses answered. “I guess I can wait until tomorrow morning. Sorry to bother you.” As the door closed behind him, he realized that he had no means of leaving this small home in the woods. “Jeez, now what do I do?” he thought. Punching in the address of his father’s workplace for one hour later, he pressed start and closed his eyes. Opening them, he found himself in the parking lot of Bluestone Mechanics, just in time to see his father walk out of the factory, with his lunchbox in hand.

“Thomas!” he shouted, “hey, Thomas, over here.” Catching the man’s eye, he introduced himself as an accountant for the company and had a few questions for him.

“Hmm, okay,” Thomas said. “I don’t remember seeing you here before but if you're okay talking over a beer, we can chat at the ‘Up and Up’.”

Thirty minutes later, Moses emerged from the tavern and walked around the corner into an adjoining alleyway. Tapping the return icon, he returned home and saw that only an hour had passed since he left for his parents home. His phone beeped and waking it up, saw a message from TT. “Hello Moses,” it read, “this is just a warning that taking two paths before returning on the first can be dangerous. Please be careful.”

“Phew, yeah, wow, I guess I forgot about that,” he said. “I’ve got to be more careful.”

Jumping back into his car, he returned to his parent’s home. Letting himself in the front door, he noticed the absence of the shiny, golden Buddha. His mother sat on the couch, apparently asleep. He approached, and reaching for her, saw two empty Vodka bottles at her feet. “Oh, damn, that last trip wasn’t too successful,” he thought. Pulling back, he silently left the house and returned to his own home.

Sitting on the couch, turning his phone over and over in his hands, his mind raced as he tried to think of how to fix what had gone so wrong. Walking into the kitchen, he stood over the sink, looking out the back window and drumming his fingers on the counter. “Well, I’ve got to do something,” he thought. “There is no way I can just leave Mom as a raging alcoholic.”

Punching in the date, time, and location of his fifth birthday, he tapped the icon, closed his eyes and once again found himself at the main entrance to Bluestone Mechanics. Marveling at how perfectly his timing had been, he watched his father emerge from the factory, again holding his lunchbox. Catching his eye, he accompanied him to the local tavern and spent the next two hours in deep dialog. With the image of his mother in mind, he tried a much more academic and philosophical approach.

Finally leaving the tavern, he slipped into the same alleyway and returned home. As he opened his eyes, he immediately knew that his trip had been a success. No longer was he standing in a moderately furnished, standard three bedroom, two bath rambler. He stood in a beautifully decorated library on a marble floor surrounded by dark hardwood. The Rolex that hung on his wrist was his next clue that things were radically different than they had been just a few hours before.

As he stood looking around the room and marveling at the beauty of it all, his doorbell rang. Hurrying out of the room, he opened the ornately carved hardwood front doors and came face to face with the elderly woman from the grocery parking lot.

“Hello Moses,” she said. “It looks like I was right about you.”

“Um… excuse me?” he answered. “What do you mean?”

“What I’m saying is that no one else at headquarters believed that you could do it. But I knew you could,” she answered. “The changes that you brought about will have a major impact on the next ten generations of your family line.”

Digging through her purse, she pulled out her cellphone. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Moses, but I’ll need to see your cell phone again.”

“Does this mean that you’re taking my app away?” he asked.

“Yes, young man, I’m afraid so,” she answered. Tapping her phone to his, she dropped her phone back into her purse and patted his arm. “I am so glad that you figured it all out. You have accomplished something really amazing. Thank you.” She then turned and walked back down the steps and climbed into her car. With a slight wave, she and her car immediately disappeared, with no sound, she simply was gone.

As Moses stepped back into his living room, his phone rang. “Hello, this is Moses,” he answered.

“Hey, Moses,” a male voice answered. “Apparently there has been a shooting at the university. I don’t know why you weren’t lecturing today but it’s a good thing you weren’t. Some crazy guy showed up to your class and started shooting. Luckily, no one was killed and only a few were injured. The board of directors has called a mandatory meeting for all the professors. I figured I’d give you a call and let you know. We all need to be at the dean’s office by four o’clock today. I hope everything is okay.”

“Wow, yeah, Charles, man, that is crazy. A shooting?” Moses answered. “Thanks for calling, I’ll be there.”

The Path

 

The last thing he could remember was seeing the taillights of car leaving him behind at the edge of the forest. After a moment, it was only a light cloud of dust and the slightly darkening sky as dusk began to set. Standing still as the hazy blue turned to black, the chill set in and he stepped into the tree line. He had no path, he had no direction to follow, his wandering led him in circles and he eventually lay down under a fallen tree. Waking the next morning to the sound of birds, he crawled out of his overfall and was relieved to see beyond the boundaries that darkness had set the night before.

He had been walking through the forest for a long time. At times it seemed aimless and occasionally he would think he would know where he was going but it always remained the same, deep forest as far he could see. It was a beautiful forest, there was no denying that but the prospect of walking alone, with no real goal in mind was less than fruitful.

At times he would think that he saw a glimpse of clearing, only to find that he was mistaken. Small paths would appear for a time but then he would again be wading through underbrush, blackberry brambles and low hanging branches. Once he caught a glimpse of someone, far off. He could barely make them out, he knew it was a person but who or even what, he was not sure. He started running, following the voice he could hear carried on the wind but after a time he realized that he had been deceived.

He now stood in a new patch of forest that he had not seen before. A narrow path was now under foot and it was solid and sure. Looking ahead, he could see golden beams of sunlight poking through the overhead canopy and the path became wider. A fluttering caught his attention and he hurried forward to find a small note caught in the branches of a small bush. Quickly grabbing it before the wind took it away, he unfolded the small paper and it read, “Hello, come find me.”

Thrilled at his find, his heart began to race, and a smile broke out across his face. Standing in place, he began to look around, but he could see no one. He looked back out across the way from which he had come but stopped himself. There was no sense returning there. Turning back, he walked to the bush from where he found the note and then continued further on. The path was wider now and he found another note which read, “You’re getting closer.”

Starting to jog now, he came across more and more notes each one an encouragement, a kind word, or something as simple as a smiley face. The path was brighter now, cleaner, as if someone had specifically made it just for him. The forest had begun to thin, and a gentle incline became apparent. Looking far ahead to the top of the hill before him, he saw someone. Waving, he tried to catch their attention. A gentle wave was returned, and his heart grew within him. Working his way up the hillside, the incline continued to increase. “I don’t care how hard this is,” he said, “I am going to make it.”

Finally, they made eye contact and following the notes to the top of the hill, they embraced.

Looking In

 

            The sunlight reached as far as it could, but its golden embrace failed to touch the toes of Edward’s boots. Standing just within the darkness of the forest, he looked out across the vast field that stood between the forest and the strip mall. Twenty years ago, this open field only looked out across a thin, unpaved country road that looked to only more open fields. But corporate America had caught up to the small town of Evansville and Edward watched with a sinking feeling as the world around him spiraled out of control.

              Seeing the constant stream of cars flow in and out of the unquenchable beast of retail and blacktop, Edward walked away from the bright and shiny plastic world that lay outside of his hidden existence. Turning back to the darkness of the forest, his eyes quickly adjusted, and he found his small home, a shack really, but it was dry and warm and most of all, quiet. Placing two pieces of dry maple within his stove, he sat before it and warmed himself. As the temperature climbed, he stepped away from the soothing orange glow and removed the small picture frame from the bookshelf behind him.

              The pretty woman and the teenage girl with her both smiled at him from the photograph. He could clearly see the love and beauty of the two, but he knew the smile was not the truth. He had failed in every way possible and now he was alone, ensconced in the safety of the forest. He had learned his lesson, but it was too late to go back. That bridge had been burned and the path could not be found again. Replacing the picture frame, he sat at his small homemade table and rested his forehead on the surface.

              In his dreams, he saw himself, a lightly lit specter in the bowels of darkness. He could see images moving around him and the longer he watched the darker they became but the brighter he became. He stood all alone in the midst of this darkness and yet he was at peace. The more he shone, the further away the shifting dark characters around him moved away. He could see two of them, fighting against the light he emanated yet seemingly drawn to it. Eventually they too went away, and he stood all alone, a glowing beacon in a sea of darkness.

              With a snort, he sat up, realizing that darkness outside had begun to fall and his fire had been reduced to a small pile of coals. Feeding in a few small twigs, he rescued his only source of warmth from a cold death. Returning to his kitchen, he opened the cupboard to realize that his small cache of spices had dwindled further than he had realized. Retrieving a small metal box from under a sack of potatoes, he pulled a small handful of money and with a sigh, left his tiny slice of peace and quiet. Splashing some water on his face from the rain barrel by the front door, he ran his fingers through his hair with the hope that he looked at least somewhat presentable.

              Walking the long way around the forest, he emerged and started walking up the road toward the small grocery store that shared a parking lot with the strip mall. A knot began to grow in his stomach as he stepped upon the blacktop and approached the grocery front door. With a deep breath, he walked through the automatic doors and hurried to aisle five, the only aisle he ever visited. Grabbing a bag of sugar, a box of salt and a few small containers of various spices, he got in line and silently stood, watching, and listening to those around him. No one paid him any attention, as their faces were focused on the small screens in their hands.

              Inching forward, he finally had space to place his items on the conveyor belt. Watching the young mother in front of him as she paid, she gathered her groceries and left the store. Marveling at her complete lack of attention toward even her own children, Edward could feel a lump begin to build in his throat.

Dolls

  

            Carl had been sitting on his front porch for over an hour immersed in his latest novel. Though it was already eleven pm, he really wanted to finish the chapter. Turning the page, he was relieved to see the chapter’s end, as his eyes had begun to roll around in his head. Turning off the porch light, he started to go into the house when the starting of a car engine caught his attention. Closing the door without going inside, he stood motionless and scanned over the neighborhood. Most of his neighbors were elderly, so he was somewhat surprised that someone would be going out so late. Catching sight of now illumined taillights, he watched the four-door sedan pull out of the driveway and drive off in the opposite direction.

            With a shrug, he walked into the living room and caught his dad, looking rather sheepish, with a doughnut in his mouth.

            “Oh, hey, Carl, I didn’t know you were up,” his dad said through a mouthful.

            “Yeah, I was just reading. Really good book. I couldn’t put it down,” Carl answered. “Hey, do you know much about the old guy in 217? What is it, Mr. Holmes?”

            “No, it’s Mr. Hovel and I don’t know much about him. He pretty much keeps to himself. I think he's a war veteran though. I’ve never even spoken to him. Why do you ask?”

            “Oh, nothing really. I think I just saw him drive away though. Seems kinda late for an old guy to be out. Meh, who knows?”

            Turning out his bedroom light and crawling into bed, Carl almost immediately fell asleep. Woken up by the urge to pee, he glanced at the clock. “Ugh, three am, man, I should’ve gone before I laid down.” Forcing himself out of bed, he trudged across the hallway and into the bathroom. As he returned to his room, he heard a car door slam. Peeking out the window, he saw Mr. Hovel walking from his car to his front door, struggling with what appeared to be a quite large and heavy gym bag. 

            Now wide awake, Carl stood at the window and continued to watch the old man’s house. For a moment, nothing happened but then the light in a back room turned on, its luminescence peeking through a set of mostly closed curtains. “Ah, whatever,” he thought. “Who knows what old people do anyway?”

            Leaving the house the next morning, Carl kept an eye on Mr. Hovel’s home. The old man struggling with such a large bag continued to nag him throughout the day. The day crept by and finally he got home and found the old man’s house exactly as it had been when he had left that morning. Making a point to sit on the front porch again that evening, he focused more on the neighbor’s house than his book. Eleven o’clock came and went with no activity whatsoever.

            The pattern was the same for the next week. Carl would sit on the front porch until nearly midnight and hope for another chance to spy on the old man. Finally, on Friday night, immersed in his story, he heard a car door slam. Looking up, he saw the old man driving away, just as he had before. Waiting a full thirty minutes, Carl snuck out of his room and into Mr. Hovel’s yard. Carefully approaching the curtained window, he cupped his hands around his eyes and tried to see through the crack in the curtains. The light fixture in the room was not lit but a neighbor’s backyard light bled through a second window in the room, providing just enough light to reveal a rather surprising hobby.

            Slowly walking back to his own home, Carl shoved his hands in his pockets and felt rather disappointed. “Dolls? Really? What kind of old man collects dolls?” he thought. “That’s just weird.” Quietly sneaking through his own back door, he closed the door behind him only to be suddenly blinded by the kitchen light suddenly being illumined.

            “What’re you doing outside so late?” his dad asked.

            “Uh, nothing really,” Carl answered. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d take a little walk. But I’m feeling sleepy now. Good night.”

            As he expected, the slamming of a car door woke him from his light sleep, and he slid out of bed to peek out of the window. On one hand, he was surprised to see the old man moving across the yard with the same large duffle bag but this time dragging it.

            Struggling to get out of bed that next morning, he met his mother in the kitchen. “Hey Carl, we got an email yesterday about the school marching band selling chocolate bars to raise money for band camp,” she said. “You didn’t say anything about that.”

            “Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me,” he answered. “They’re passing out the order forms and stuff today. I’ll need to get on that. Sounds like there are some pretty cool prizes for whoever sells the most.” As soon as he spoke those words, an idea popped into his head. 

            Getting off the bus that afternoon with candy bars and paperwork in hand, Carl glanced up and down the street at the somewhat neglected homes in his neighborhood. He never had much success with selling anything around his place, but this would give him a chance to peek into Mr. Hovel’s home.

            Stuffing the last bite of dinner into his mouth, he got up from the table. “Wow, you’re in a hurry,” his mom said. “What’s up?”

“I really want to get out and around the neighborhood before it gets any darker,” he said. “The grand prize for most candy bars sold is a new laptop. Definitely worth the effort.”

“Okay, then, good luck,” his dad said. “Don’t stay out too long.”

Taking the cautious approach, he started with his immediate next-door neighbor and worked his way around the block. By the time he had reached Mr. Hovel’s house, he had only sold one bar. Knocking on the door, he stepped back down a couple of steps and waited. He knew he was home, for his car was out front and he could hear shuffling sounds inside. In a moment, the door opened a crack and a wrinkled old face appeared in the crack. 

“Yeah, whaddya need?” said the old man.

“Hi, my name is Carl and I’m a sophomore at the high school. We’re selling chocolate bars to raise money for band camp. I was wondering if you would be interested in buying any.”

“Band camp? What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s a special one-week camp for students who are part of the marching band,” Carl answered. “Can I come in and show you what we’re selling?”

The door opened about halfway and the old man stood for a moment looking at Carl. “Young man, I don’t have any teeth so I don’t think I could do much with a chocolate bar. Besides, I’ve got diabetes as well. So, no thanks.”

Dropping his head and holding up his paperwork, as if studying it, Carl looked out the tops of his eyes and scanned the living room. “Do you live here all alone?” he asked, trying to buy more time.

“Yeah, I’ve been here for thirty years by myself. But if you don’t mind, I’m busy. Goodbye.” Having the door abruptly closed in his face, Carl stood for a moment and then returned home.

“Hey, there you are,” his dad said as he walked in the front door. “How’d sales go?”

“Nah, not so great,” Carl answered. “I only sold one. I did have a short talk with Mr. Hovel though. Kind of a grumpy old man. I saw into his living room and it’s kind of weird. He had a bunch of dolls sitting all around on the furniture. Almost life size but like kid life size. Kind of creepy.”

“Dolls, huh?” his dad answered. “Hard to say, son. Who knows what has happened to people? Maybe he could never have kids or something. Seems like a harmless enough hobby.”

Lying in bed that night, the images of life size dolls wouldn’t go away. Standing up, he walked to his window and stared out across the street to the old man’s house. Looking at his clock, he saw that it was 10:55. “I wonder if he’s going out again,” he thought. Sitting at his desk, he thumbed through his chemistry book and waited. As the clock clicked over to exactly eleven, he heard the car door slam and the engine start. Leaning forward, he saw the car pull away.

Letting out a quick breath, he slipped on his shoes and grabbed a screwdriver and a penlight from his drawer. “Alright, Carl, I hope you know what you’re doing.” Creeping down the stairs, he slipped out the back door and across the street. Sticking to the shadows, he pushed through the row of bushes on the edge of Mr. Hovel’s yard. “Man, I hope he doesn’t have a dog or anything,” he thought.

Climbing up the steps to the back door, he checked the knob and found it unlocked. “Wow, that’s a bonus I didn’t expect,” he thought. Stepping into the kitchen, the house had an odd smell to it, a weird combination of flatulence and some sort of sharp chemical. He stood still and listened for any sound. Hearing nothing, he also saw no motion sensor lights or cameras. Slipping into the living room, he saw the same dolls on the couches as he had seen earlier that day. 

Getting his bearings, he found the room that he had peeked into the week before. As he stepped in, the smell became much stronger. Clicking on the penlight, he slowly looked through the room. Seeing several more dolls, he came across one that was completely naked and seemingly anatomically correct. “Wow, that’s really weird,” he thought. Reaching out with one finger, he just about touched it but then remembered fingerprints. Slipping on his weightlifting gloves, he touched the doll and found it soft.

“Oh, man, ugh, what the heck is that!” he said under his breath. Shining his light into its face, he leaned in to look closer and realized that this was no doll.”

Bolting out of the room, he quickly shut the back door behind him and ran home, a feeling of nausea rising up to his throat. Slipping into his own backdoor, he hurried to his parent’s room. Gently shaking his father but being careful not to wake his mother, he whispered his dad’s name.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake. Carl, what’s up?” he mumbled, “is something wrong?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he answered. “Please come downstairs so we don’t bother mom. There is something I need to tell you.”

Retelling the whole story, Carl leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “I know I shouldn’t have snuck into his house, but something just didn’t seem right. Now I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“Damn, son, that is really messed up,” his dad said. “Are you sure that it wasn’t a doll?”

“Yes, Dad, absolutely, one hundred percent sure,” he answered. “What are we going to do?”

His father sat for a moment, clearly as bothered as Carl. “Okay, here’s what we do. Since you’re a minor, I’ll call 911 and we’ll tell them that we’ve been seeing weird activity over there and that you heard someone calling for help while you were out on a walk just now. I know it’s not exactly true, but this is really, really wrong. Something needs to be done.”

Hanging up the phone, his dad sat back down at the table. “They said they would send someone over and that we should just wait here. We can watch out the front window, if you want.” Within about ten minutes, multiple police cars pulled up in front of the old man’s house and they could see multiple officers surrounding the house. 

Walking out of the police station the next day, Carl and his father returned home. “So, what happened?” his mother asked.

“Well, it turns out that Mr. Hovel was in Vietnam and was involved in some pretty horrible stuff over there,” his father said. “I guess he’s been kidnapping little kids for several years now and turning them into dolls. That’s what Carl saw when he was over there the other day.”

“They’re saying that he’s not mentally fit to stand trial and will probably just go into a mental institution,” Carl added. “He claims that he was helping these little kids who were being neglected by their parents. Pretty sad, actually.”