A young man in a new and strange town gets recruited to be a supernatural secret agent, when he previously thought that those things were all myths. His story only gets crazier from there...
|This writing has not yet been rated and therefore this information is not yet available.|
I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! Let me know what you think, and check out my Kickstarter page, I am self-publishing this book! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/188629677/the-dosco-files-just-another-supernatural-novel-wr
I wasn"t sure where I was when I awoke. Not at first, but unsurprisingly I was used to that disorientation. I wasn"t used to waking up knowing the night before I had witnessed a murder though, and it tasted as bad in my mouth this morning, as it did last night. I groaned, wanting to go back to sleep and forget it all, but also knowing that now that I was up, I was up.
Especially with the gnawing guilt about that little boy from the night before. If it were his parents that killed him, I assumed there must be someone else that cared about the child. I didn"t know what to do, I was starting to feel queasy, not the kind of nauseous that I would get if I didn"t travel towards Maine the last three years, no, this was something else.
I think I knew what it was, too. I knew what the right thing to do was, to go forward to the police and tell them everything. As simple as that sounded, it would out me, blow my cover, and land me in a world of trouble. But I would bring peace to the family and justice to the criminals.
On the other hand, I had just gotten to Maine. Ultimately since I left home I had been headed towards here, but I had resisted every move, instead going somewhere else. Sickness would set in before I could get comfortable in one spot too long. A year or two ago I went to the clinic to get checked out, using a fake ID, but they weren"t able to detect that I was sick at all, let alone why.
This wasn"t fair, why did my life always have a negative bent too it? I tried to make the best of it, but the more I fought to stay happy, the shittier the circumstances got. My stomach tightened, I hated this feeling, curling up in a ball I tried to talk myself into smoking, hoping that it would help. Even the thought of moving to pack a bowl, or the idea of inhaling smoke at the moment was beyond me.
Instead I just existed. I didn"t try to think, it only made me struggle with my morals, and forced me deeper into my depression. Why did bad things always happen to me? I had never meant to hurt anyone, I hadn"t wanted to lie, or steal, or become who I was now, I had to, because that was the only way to keep moving forward.
During my travels, especially when I was groaning in bed sick, with no one who cared about me anywhere close, no one to wish me well, or mourn my passing, I had thought about ending it. Ending it all. That would solve the issues of my past, and it would have caused the pain in the present to cease, but really, I was too scared to kill myself. One time though, I had a drug cocktail in my hand, ready to do it, but my hand started to tremble, and one by one the pills fell to the ground.
I never bothered to pick them up, I just grabbed my survival bag, and high tailed it out of Xenia. I have never liked Ohio since.
Eventually moving wasn"t such a pain, thought didn"t cause sheer agony, and reason began to set in. I hadn"t chosen for anything that happened to me, to happen, but it was my responsibility. I know that if I were that little boy, I would want my family to know what had gone down. Even if I was wearing a pumpkin on my head when it was decapitated and I burst in eerie flames, and didn"t leave so much as a scorch mark on the leaves;
Yet again, my rational survival instincts set in, the boy was dead. Yes, it was tragic, yes, I wanted to do the right thing. Turning myself in would ease years of tension and suspense from the family that would always wonder if their son was coming back to them, but it couldn"t actually do that, bring him back. By turning myself in I am only damning myself.
That was an extremely selfish thought. But I couldn"t help but have it. If I tried to do the right thing with this murder, I would be paying for it for 25 years, if I was lucky! Then again, could I live with myself if I witnessed a murder and never said anything about it? I would be as bad, if not worse than the killers themselves!
This decision wasn"t easy. Not that any of them had been recently. I tried to think back to simpler times, but that only hurt worse, so I stopped, allowing myself to go back to wallowing about the murder that had been so inconveniently timed and placed.
Making up my mind, I rolled a fat blunt. Smoked it to my face, packed a bowl, and got half way through before I went to take a shower. Turning the radio to a chillstep station, I tried to relax. I had made up my mind to go forward with what I knew about the murder of the little boy.
It would mean that I would also be turning myself in, and they would have me once and for all. One the bright side, I had been able to have three more years than I should have, even if they weren"t a vacation, or easy at all. With that in mind, I was going to show up to the police station fried. They would have me physically, but mentally I would be altering my reality. They couldn"t ignore what I was saying either, not with the footage I had. Which I had rewatched, and despite it being dark, you could make out three distinct figures. Enough to see the murder take place, and the profile of the woman who did the beheading with the sword. How archaic.
Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself off, not daring to look at my own reflection in the mirror. I was doing the right thing, I was! But why did it feel like I was giving in? All this hard work to get here to Maine, and I finally do, only to have to turn myself in for the sake of what"s right?
Maybe I could just turn the phone in like I planned, let the cops figure it out. But then, there were details not on the phone, that they would have to know to figure it out, and only I would know them. Maybe I could leave a note on the phone too? Even to me it made it look more like I was responsible, then trying to help at that point.
I made a decision, I had to, and I stuck with it. Throwing on my Sundays best, which consisted of some well-worn tan colored cargo pants, a relatively clean hoodie, and my grungy but amazing jacket, the only thing other than my bag that I had kept with me this whole time.
Goal in sight, I began walking north towards the Police Station right off of Main St. It was still early in the day, before 10 at least, but lots of people were out and about. That"s when I remembered it was Saturday, so kids were all off from school, and parents weren"t working. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, enjoying the gorgeous late summer weekend.
It was hard to not resent these people, they had it easy, if they had had to make the decisions I had, then they would know. They would say it was unfair too. Kids laughed around me, which made me think of the boy that would never laugh again. I thought I was going to be sick right there, even with nothing in my stomach.
I was stumbling along, when I heard the voices. Their voices. The two that I had heard the night before. True, New City is a small town, but I hadn"t considered the fact that I might run into them again! I looked up, and sure enough there they were, walking right towards me. I ducked into Jorgensen"s Café niche, pretending to be busy reading the menu.
"Spencer, let"s just focus on our school assignments now, leave work for later." The dark man spoke to the woman, Spencer. Now I had a name for a face, what was the dudes name though?
"We should go check out the magic store while it"s open, it will help us find more of them." Spencer whispered to the man she walked with, as a female bank teller walked by.
Now that I could see them in the light, I could see more features that would later help me identify them. Spencer was tall for a woman, 5"8"" or so, long blond hair, clear complexion on her angular face. She was clearly fit which was why she chose to wear those form fitting chick tights that they all wear, with some furry high top boots, and an equally fussy vest, over a soft looking white long sleeved shirt. On her wrist she wore a silver bracelet that branched and wound all around her left forearm that matched her silver dangling earrings.
The man was much more straight forward. He was wearing blue Colby sweatpants, with the name running down the side, and a dark grey Colby hoodie, and headphones wrapped around his neck. His dark complexion gave his teeth a radiant white shine. His hair was dark and course, and he kept it cut close to his scalp.
I couldn"t hear what they said after that, as they walked into Jorgensen"s. I stood there a minute "˜staring at the menu," trying to make up my mind. I could go to the cops now, with little evidence, and no body, or I could try and figure out why these two college students would murder an innocent, if not weird, boy. The cops weren"t likely to believe me over these two, so if I could gather more evidence, maybe I could use that to lessen whatever sentences I was charged with from my past.
Having new resolve, I walked into Jorgensen"s, and acted normal, acting just like any other college student, in this college town, going to a café on my day off to study. With my cover made in my mind, I adapted to the persona. My walk got a little cockier, a little more arrogant, after all I"m a college student, at a prestigious school. I emanated confidence as I strode up to the counter to order coffee and a bagel.
Spencer and the man had walked in and set their stuff down before walking up to the counter, placing them behind me in line now. That was actually better, it wouldn"t look like I was watching them, if they were behind me. As I ordered, I laid the charm on thick. The woman behind the register even started to stutter a little. I couldn"t have that much of an affect over her, could I?
As she turned around to get the order that was ready for the other woman by the counter, I turned to her, feeling her gaze on me. The smaller woman, Hawaiian perhaps, beamed up at me. I didn"t say anything, I didn"t want to draw too much attention to me from Spencer and her accomplice, so I just smiled back, and winked at her slyly. I wouldn"t normally do something like that, but I was channeling my college persona.
The woman blushed, going to grab her food in a carry out tray, without dropping it. She smiled weakly back at me, before her face turned red, and she walked off. The woman behind the register gave me one more once over, handing me my cup, telling me my bagel would be brought to me. Before I could walk to far she hastened to tell me I should come back soon.
I walked to the coffee stand which was an island in the middle of the floor, grinning to myself. Spencer noticed me then, I could tell, but I purposefully stared past her like an arrogant prick, and walked to the island. I felt her eyes on me. Somehow this experience emboldened me. I was like Veronica Mars, I could figure this mystery out, and get to the bottom of why these two with promising futures would kill a boy late at night in the woods.
I grabbed a local advocacy paper on my way to my table. I intentionally sat with my back to, to where Spencer and the man sat, but I was facing towards the front window, which I was able to use to watch behind me. I also set up the metal napkin holder on the edge of the table, and used it as another means to watch my 6 o"clock. Taking my headphones from my pocket, I pretended to hook them up to my phone (which was a shitty flip phone and barely had enough memory for 2 minutes of video), put them in my ears, and acted like I was switching through to choose a song.
Music obviously wasn"t playing, and the ear buds were only slightly in my ear, just for appearance, I wanted to listen to the two talk a couple tables behind me.
I slowly read the paper, keeping an eye out for any listing for "˜the magic shop" that Spencer had mentioned. When my bagel arrived I slowly ate that, took my time on my coffee, refilled it, finished the pamphlet, and had two hours of observations of the murderers.
I had pieced together that both were sophomores at Colby, Spencer was going for Poli-Sci, and Brad, that was the man"s name, was going for Communications, which for some reason I just found ironic. Neither were from Maine, but had lived here a whole year. Both did extremely well in school, and were both leaders of different clubs, which ones I wasn"t sure, but they both had meetings to get to.
I let them leave first, refilling my cup again, before I even thought about leaving, I didn"t want them to notice or take note of me. When I did finally leave, they were nowhere in sight, which was preferable. I knew enough about them that they wouldn"t be able to get far once I had more information.
I stood outside of the café for a minute or two and let my fried brain catch up to me. It had been an emotional day, a roller coaster of one truthfully. They say things happen for a reason, could the little boy have been murdered for a reason too? That was morbid and disturbed me, but I guess that was a sad truth about accepting that lifestyle. But did I believe it?
I know that I wanted to do the right thing, go to the police. But I knew it was a lot more complicated than that. What if with no body it looks like I set up the murder just to have a scapegoat when I turned myself in? What if I turned that woman in from the ATM yesterday?
I was scrambling at straws, but this was my life. I couldn"t just give it over if I had a chance to solve it all for myself and then go forward with it, right? Oh poop. Hefty life decisions.
Alright! Please rate and let me know what you think!