Before I unravel to you a tale I've kept to myself since childhood, I must apologize for any spelling errors as I am still physically shaken by the events that I'm about to present to you.
My mom was recovering from a traumatic experience I'd rather not go into great detail about... What I would like to speak with you about is the house she and I moved into as a result of a major setback settled by my alcoholic and belligerent father, anyways, on with the story.
It was about December and my mom and I had to move. There was a serial killer in my old town which the local police department dubbed, "The Lefty" because he would collect the victims' left hands and such a person prompted my mother to move. And that means a new school.
Our new landlord who smelled like cheap booze and cigarettes led us around our shithole we'll call home for the next five months. But as he showed us around, I noticed a small cupboard near the trim of the floor. Being curious, I asked him, "What's that door lead to?" All he could tell me in his drunken muffled voice was that, I don't know, but it’s one hell of a hiding spot.
Anyway I knew the drill; new school, no friends except for one. Jim Winkler, a relatively quiet kid, like me. So you'd expect we got along pretty quickly. Jim and I spent most of our time playing video games. We were mostly inside kids.
Until one day, he too questioned the strange cupboard and as curious as we were, we decided to pry it open. Even with efforts of knives, crowbars, and hammers, we just could not get this door to budge. The more we tried, the more our curiosity grew like a flame being fed gasoline. After hours of trying, we decided to let it go. But I didn't.
That night, I tried and tried until I got the paint sealed door to creak open, revealing the secret the landlord had forewarned me of. Jim had to know. I bolted to the room, got my phone, and called Jim. He answered, groggy and sleepy seeing as the time was about 12:30 am.
I told him, "What lie inside the cupboard we worked so feverishly to bust apart."
And said news awoke him faster than any ice water could.
He rushed over to see for himself. I wouldn't venture any farther than in front of the cupboard, hoping Jim would, when he got here which he did eventually. And when he came out of there; his eyes were bloodshot with tears and dazed with confusion, and dry heaves. I tried to coax him but all he said was, "Don't go in there." I took his advice seriously.
For the next few days Jim had been quiet at school. More quiet than usual, keeping to him and even from me. So again, curiosity got the best of me and I opened that cupboard once again—and what I saw is what made me run away—and is why I can never return to my mother. Because what had been in the cupboard was the true reason we moved, a duffle bag... filled with six left hands. Template:Sort