Waiting at The Back Door

Allan was diagnosed as a schizophrenic at age sixteen. His first psychotic break occurred six months earlier when he heard strong voices he thought to be from evil spirits. He believed they were taking over his body. It might as well have been; it took five men to restrain him and bring him to a hospital in an ambulance. He cursed and shouted and was sedated with a triple dose of tetromorphine. The doctor was baffled at such a young case of the disorder and put Allan on Haldol. His symptoms decreased and the doctor was able to inquire about his thoughts. Allan said the spirits wanted him to do things like steal or kill. After being afflicted for half a year, he said with tears that he was happy and relieved. A year later, he began to have additional symptoms. Allan was now suffering from night terrors where grotesque ghost like beings were screaming at him at him in his sleep. Allan said he was more distraught when he began hearing the spirits whisper to him from places in his house. He was put on another antipsychotic called clozapine. A day later both issues stopped. Now Allan was 24 living with two roommates.

“Good morning guys,” said Allan.

His two friends were watching Saturday cartoons while eating cereal silently.

“I said good morning. Eh, what’s the use?”

A knock came from the front door and Allan opened it. A small package was on the ground. He picked it up and saw it was from his mom with Happy New Year! on the top. He took a pair of scissors and slowly cut off the tape. Inside was a small cake was in it. He smiled.

“Luke, Ron are you guys still going to see Slaughterhouse?”

Ron looked at Allan. “Yeah man. You should come along.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like gory movies. I already told you that.”

Luke made a scared wide eyed look. “What if the spirits come for you while we’re gone tonight?”

Allan frowned. “Whatever.”

“Alright, my bad,” said Luke. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll hit the PlayStation for a while.”

Allan had a lot of errands to do and they occupied his time well into the evening. He finally got home after being at the power company over an over charge. Luke and Ron were gone. He kicked off his shoes and played Sonic the Hedgehog. He heard a nock from the closet doors. Allan stopped. “Must be my imagination.”

A light voice called his name coming from the hallway. Allan ignored it and got to inn his game. An hour later a loud banged from the back door. Allan flinched and threw down his remote. “Very funny guys! Nice try!” he yelled. Allan returned this game.

Thirty minutes later a gargled voice shrieked from the back door. “Allan!” it spoke.

“I’ve had it! You two have gone too far!”

He sprinted to where the voice came and opened the door. He stared at the green lawn before him. “Come on out guys.” He listened to the ebbing flow of the wind as he looked around then stepped out and inspected the bushes and trees. “Where are you? This is too much. Please say this is just due to fatigue. I hope this is not a sign of something. Well, all seems good here.” Allan reentered the house. Just as he turned away, the back door began to buckle, and multiple voices cried out his name ceaselessly. “No, I got rid of you! It’s all in my mind! All in my…”

The door broke open in peices as the beings from his night terrors barged in and rushed at him with gasping jaws and long claws with red glowing eyes. Allan fled. The creatures pursued him into the living room. He tripped and they surrounded him. “Noooo!”

“Oh, yes! That’s right, we are real. Time to get a glimpse of pure fright! We love scaring you!”

Allan shut his eyes and cried out. “AAHHH!” Then there was nothing.

When Allan’s friends came home he was dead but there was no cause seen. They called the authorities and officials filled the house and marked it off with yellow warning tape. When Allan’s body was autopsied, it was revealed that he died of pulmonary shutdown. They reasoned that only extreme trauma could have caused it. The day afterwards the mysterious death was reported on TV.

The victim suffered from schizophrenia and the individual apparently showed signs of a heart attack. Joining us is the victim’s roommates.

Luke spoke with tears in his eyes. “He was in perfect physical health. He has been symptom free for over a decade. I don’t know what to say.”

“He was the nicest guy I knew.” said Ron.

Six months later was his funeral. Allan’s mother was one that said a few words. “He was the most moral and kindest soul I knew.” She spoke between sobs. “He’s in heaven now.”

After the gathering, when all but Luke had cleared away, he stared at a marking at the base of the stone. “What kind of sicko would write such a thing?”

On it was inscribed in scratched writing Even in death, we will haunt you!