The Broken Face

I sat on my new recliner, wondering what to do. It was the 5th of August, 2012 and new movie had just come out - it was a crime-horror film very similar to The Silence of The Lambs. It was about a "very strange serial killer who killed his victims in a strange way" said my friend upon being asked how it was. Until I arrived here at California last week, I lived in Princeton, New Jersey.

I felt fatigued after the huge house makeover. I had just gotten some new furniture. My kitchen had its walls painted a very pale shade of blue. My new fridge was 7 feet high and had a new feature which told you the temperature inside which I found rather helpful. It was fun to play with, but nothing got me as overwhelmed as my door. It had a hole in it resembling the one seen in The Shining during the infamous sequence where Jack Torrance chops down the door with an axe - mallet in the miniseries and novel - to kill his wife Wendy. It was my favorite movie and I watched it when I felt bored.

There was a ringing noise. At first, I didn't recognize it but soon realized it was my doorbell. I got up and walked over. I opened the door. A tall figure, seven feet high with a pale face stood in front of my. His face was contorted in a strange smile and he was wearing a funny purple jacket with one of those little squirty flowers. "Have you ever danced with a demon in the bright moonlight?" he said, before throwing back his head and cackling. He ripped off his face before revealing something very familiar looking; his face.

"Nice try, Jason," I murmured. He rolled his eyes, before ripping off the squirty flower and walking in. "I always thought you were some fucking kind of vampire, you couldn't come in like unless I invited you".

"Well, I'm not a vampire, I'm just a maniac!" he said.

"That joke was from the friggin 80's, seriously, Goosebumps?" I replied.

"You merely adopted the 80's. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn't see the 90's til I was a man, by then it was nothing to me, nothing but BLINDING!" he said, doing the crappiest Bane impersonation ever.

"Yeah, sure. You were fucking born on December 31st 1989, 1989! What do you mean you were 'molded' by it?" he murmured. I think he was trying to do a Jack Nicholson impression, but it sounded more like a duck being mutilated by a tractor.

"And you were born on January the 1st, 1990. You didn't exactly "adopt" the 90's either," I replied.

"Alright, Clark. Can I come in?" he asked. I nodded and pointed towards the recliner seat. He sat down, smiling. "Thank you. Anyways," he continued. "I have received a high paying job. I am currently 3D modeling people and guns for a game developing company. I just need a little place to stay til my Ma comes over. She just needs to see the house Imma buy before I do so. I got my crap in my car, should I get it?"

"Go right ahead, Jason," I said. "Would you like breakfast?"

"Yes please," he said before opening my door and walking over to his car. His car. I saw his car. It was a beauty. An amphibious one, he had sent me a video if him just riding off a coast into the ocean and floating on instagram yesterday.

We sat in the kitchen, eating our breakfast. I was having the standard American big breakfast, and he was having the old PB&J sandwich minus the J. It was pouring outside. I peeked over to the window. There was an old man limping besides a little young child. The window was foggy and it was kind of hard to see. I looked very closely and the old man and saw he had a dazed expression on his face. Then something very strange began to happen. The old mans head started gaining a tint of green. I personally just thought this was the sun rising, the light or maybe the rain or something. But then something happened. He stopped limping.

"EARTH TO CLARK ROBERT LEPOURAS!" shouted a voice.

"Huh? What? Habbidyjabbidy!" I replied, turning my voice.

"You were fuckin starin at that old veck for the past 10 minutes!" he said in a bad negro imitation.

"But I thought I saw-"

I turned my head again. I saw the man. Not limping, and with the green head. But something was different. I couldn't put my finger on it. He raised his hand and put it on the little child's head. The child was not more than 7 or perhaps 8. But that's when he did it. He voilently thrusted his hand forward, snapping the child's neck. The child fell on the floor, voilently groping at his neck before coming to a sudden stop.

"HOLY MOTHER OF FRICKING JESUS'S BROTHER'S SISTER'S WIFE'S MOTHER-IN-LAW'S TEACHER! DID THAT OLD VECK JUST..." began Jason.

But that's when it changed. The boy got up, and walked away.

"That was a good one," I said laughing. "They certainly got us there".

That night, I slept on a bed. On a different bed, but the same room slept Jason. Jason slept in his underwear like a true weirdo, but I understandably felt stupid doing that, so I slept fully clothed.

I slept well. The rain sounded like a freaking tambourine, but I loved the sound of rain, so, hay, what could I say? The room got surprisingly hot and my clothes stuck to me, making me feel like a gluestick.

"Immah need a glass of water," said Jason for no freaking reason at 2:30 AM.

"Okay," I said.

I slept, but all I could think about was the strange child and old man I saw earlier. At one point I almost drifted asleep before waking up with a jolt.

About 30 minutes passed and Jason wasn't up yet.

40 minutes passed.

50 minutes passed.

"Jason!" I screamed. "Jason Ryan Brady! Are you alive?"

That should've been a rhetorical question. Should've.

"No, he isn't," said a strange raspy voice.

"Ha ha, Jason, very funny acting,"

"It is not Jason but, I, the one and only-"

"Alright Jason, that's fucking it," I said laughing.

I hopped down the stairs and turned on the light. It flickered, making me dazed. I hated being epeliptic.

There was Jason lying on the dinner table. His legs were cut off, blood dripping out from the gory little remaining stubs, bones tearing out of his arm and a pillowcase on his face. His stomach was sliced open with a knife pushed in it by a very strange man. The old man. With a green face. He stood about 5 feet tall with a black tuxedo and a dirty tie. He had blue jeans on.

"We've all been waiting for you, yes indeed we have been waiting for you," he said. He raised his fist and smashed it into his face which shattered into pieces. The pieces fell on the floor, before fading away like a salt crystal in a glass of wine.