Chapter 1

Chapter 1

T

HERE WAS A KNOCK AT

the door. Rex Carlton was watching his favorite television show, American Idol. He did not want company. Few things annoyed him. Being disturbed during one of the few television shows that he actually liked to watch was one of them. He didn’t want anyone to know it was his guilty pleasure. Anyhow, it was likely his next-door neighbor Ed Neumann, so he pretended not to hear the door. The person knocked louder a second time, and this time called his name.

“Rex! Rex! I know you're in there,” said the scratchy voice. It was Mrs. Gibson, the crotchety woman that lived downstairs. Rex rarely saw her, but she was great at leaving notes to complain about one thing or another. Whether it was loud music, to tell him to put the garbage cans a certain way or to remind him to pay the rent. She was at least sixty-five years old with thin, short gray hair. She wore baggy dresses, and had big oval eyeglasses.

She sounded like she was getting itchy by the second, so he figured he had better answer. “Hold on; I'm coming.” He stood up from the couch and walked over to open the door to his apartment. Mrs. Gibson was standing there, with a faded flowery yellow dress. In her arm was a large box. The sour look on her face almost made him crack a smile.

“Rex Carlton, what took you so long to answer the door?” she demanded. “I know you’ve been home for forty-five minutes!”

“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Gibson,” he said as he feigned sorrow. “I was watching a TV show and didn't hear you knock.”

“My goodness, turn that nonsense down,” she said, a look of disgust on her face. “Here, this came for you this morning.” She struggled to hand him the large package, and turned around.

Rex peeked out the door as she headed down the back stairs, and said in a voice dripping with sugar, “Thank you, Mrs. Gibson!” He wasn't sure if he despised her or felt sorry for her. She had been a widow for at least twenty years. He wondered if she was always nasty, or if it came with old age.

Rex closed the door to the apartment, and dropped the package on the couch. He plopped down next to it. His living room wasn’t very big, large enough for a sofa, chair, and small coffee table. It was open to the dining area where a small table and chairs were against the wall. The room was a dull green, and had been that color since he moved in. The bright spot in the room was a round orange rug his friend Sheila made him buy at a garage sale.

Rex looked at the package. It was about four feet long by four feet wide, and a few inches thick. He inspected the address. “Mm-hmm,” he said. It was from Devils Corner, Washington, where his cousin Kelly Martin lived.

“Oh, what did that girl send me now?” he said as he pulled the tape off the box. Inside it looked like it might be a painting of some sort, wrapped tightly in bubble wrap, and packing tape. There was a letter from Kelly inside.

“Hi, Rex!

“Mom, and I were out antiquing, and I came across this painting, and immediately thought of you. Remember that time when we were kids,, and we went to that haunted house? This reminded me of that time, and how scared I was, so I got it for you. It was cheap, so do what you want with it, but I hope you like it!

“Love Ya!

“Kell.”

Oh geez

,

what could she have found that reminded her of that time?

Rex is three years older than Kelly. If he remembered, he was fifteen, and she was twelve when they went to the haunted house. It was in Buffalo at a Halloween carnival. He remembered that he had to convince her to go in the house, to begin with. Kelly enjoyed it for about two minutes then was so scared of a screaming zombie that they had to use the emergency exit to leave.

He grabbed a knife, and cut the bubble wrap off the painting. He flipped the art over to reveal a pretty terrifying painting. In the center of the canvas was a demonic-looking man with a red face, and pointy ears standing over a busty brunette woman lying on a table. In the man’s hands was a long asymmetrical dagger that he held above her body in a very menacing position. It appeared that he was about to sacrifice the woman. Her long hair draped over the side of the table, and her eyes had a look of panic in them. There were two demons in the background. The painting was in a thick black wooden frame.

Rex decided he needed to text Kelly.

Rex: Hey cuz, that is some painting you sent.

Kelly: LOL! Crazy, isn't it?

Rex: It's really weird!

Kelly: So, you like?

Rex: Ha. I can't say I love it, but it is interesting. Thanks!

Kelly: Anytime, cuz. Gotta get back to work. TTYL!

Rex put his phone down, and looked at the painting again. It was pretty ugly. His living room/kitchen wasn't huge, but there was an open nail in the wall behind the couch. He hung the painting there then stood back. He shook his head. “Yeah, this will definitely not be a chick magnet, but, I think, I like it,” he said out loud.

He put the volume back up on the TV, and went back to watching American Idol. He looked down at the coffee table in front of his couch. His beer was empty. Rex was not what you would call a beer nerd. In fact, in Buffalo, there were Labatt drinkers, and there were Genny drinkers. Then there was the rest. He fit in the latter group. Whatever crap was cheap, that’s what he liked.

“Damn,” he said to himself when he realized there were only two wings left. These are what outsiders call “Buffalo Wings.” What that means is they are chicken wings like the type made famous at Anchor Bar in Buffalo. Their wings were okay, but any decent pizza joint made better wings than national chains. Rex felt that hot wings were the best, followed in a close second by barbeque flavored. As he went to pick up the second last wing, there was a knock at the door.

“What the hell?” Rex said. “Is this Grand Central Station?”