Storymania - The Visitor by L A Winterburn

The Visitor
L A Winterburn

Samuel Peterson was in his bedroom watching late night television. When I say watching what I mean is that he was flicking through the channels one at a time trying to find anything of interest to watch. “Fifty-three damn channels and nothing worth watching…it figures”, he would mumble to himself.
He looked over at his wife who looked so peaceful, and he was being mindful of the sound coming from the TV so as not to wake her. She wouldn’t have been able to hear the TV anyway of course; as she had taken a couple of sleeping tablets that had been prescribed to her, just four days before, by her doctor. Her name was Claire and she had been suffering from depression for the last four years, since she had lost her baby due to miscarriage.
She was in the garden when it had happened, it was a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon and she was only clearing a few leaves from the front of her path. Then the pain came, and the blood; there was so much blood. It was a good that her neighbors were busy in their garden as well and saw what had happened, as Samuel was away fishing with his friends. He always liked to go fishing on a Sunday. He used to say, “It gets me ready for another stressful day in the shit hole”. This always used to make Claire laugh; she loved this man and he always seemed to be there for her no matter what. Apart from now! The moment that she needed him the most he was out fishing with his buddies. How she resented him for that; although at the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t his fault. How could it have been? How could he have known?

Samuel was aware of all the problems and insecurities that Claire was feeling. By Christ, he was feeling them as well. Only, he was the man of the household and as such he had to be strong. He had to be strong for Claire. He had to be strong for the both of them. All through his life he had people telling him this that he had to be the provider and breadwinner of the household. Claire thought this was a bit old fashioned and half expected him to come home one day with a deer on his back and a spear in his hand. Claire knew that this way of thinking was wrong and only put Samuel through unnecessary pressure. No matter how much she told him that marriage was a partnership and they need to work together, he would never listen.

Now there were a lot of arguments and friction between the two of them, but Samuel loved Claire with all his heart, but it was just so difficult because he was feeling so guilty for not being there in Claire’s time of need. Some days he hated himself for it.
Suddenly, there were three loud knocks at the door, which startled Samuel. His heart began to race as he looked at his watch, “2:30 a.m., you have to be kidding? “ He looked over at Claire who was still snoring peacefully to herself, then he managed a little smile before starting to put his dressing gown on; then he moved across the room to where his slippers where laid. After putting his slippers on he was just about to open the bedroom door when he turned around and took one last look at his sleeping princess; his heart was still beating really fast but just looking at Claire relaxed him. “It’s probably just a neighbor”, he thought.

He opened his bedroom door and proceeded to walk down the stairs to find out who was trying to keep him and his wife awake all night when he heard the three knocks again. “Hold on!” he shouted. He wasn’t that worried about waking Claire any more; the sleeping tablets she had taken had kicked in and she would be out like a light until sunrise.

The front door was adjacent to the stairs and as soon as Sam’s foot was on the bottom of the landing he only needed to take three more steps and he was at the door.
He looked outside through the spy hole in his door, just to see if he knew who was there, before he opened up and let Charles Manson’s brother inside to run riot on him and his wife.

Standing outside stood a man. He was wearing a brown leather trench coat that nearly reached the floor. The coat was fastened and therefore Sam could not see what type of clothes the man was wearing underneath. He was also wearing a Stetson, which was aligned on his head perfectly, the rim of the hat just above the man eyebrows.
Another point of interest that Samuel hadn’t noticed until now was that is was raining. When he had been upstairs he couldn’t recall whether it had been raining or not, admittedly the curtains had been drawn and he hadn’t looked out of the window; but this was the kind of rain you would notice if you lived in a bomb shelter. The rain was coming down so hard that Sam could see it bouncing of the Stetson the man was wearing and he could bet that the stranger on his doorstep could feel the rain hitting his head as it bounced to the floor in what seemed like slow motion.
Sam was ready to open his mouth and ask the stranger what he thought he was doing knocking on his door at 2:30 in the morning when the stranger spoke first.

“Mr. Peterson? “
Sam was taken by surprise, the two of them separated by a door, and the only reason Sam could see out was because he was using the spy hole.
“Mr. Samuel Peterson? “, the man said in a stronger louder voice.
“How did he know I was here? Does he know I can see him?” Pushing these thoughts to one side as silly paranoid statements, he answered.
“Yes, this is Mr. Peterson! “ A few seconds elapsed before the man outside spoke again.
“Hello, Mr. Peterson, my name is Geoffrey Hall. I was wondering if you can remember entering a competition a while ago. It would have been about 5 maybe 6 months ago. I believe you filled in a form at the public Library?”
This is ridiculous thought Sam “Its bloody 2:30 in the morning and you’re asking me about some stupid competition that I have no memory of entering?”
“Sir I do realize what the time is and can assure you that if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t be on your doorstep in the dead of night. I would also like to be in bed, all nice and cozy, and if you open the door when I show you what I have to offer, you will see that it is to your advantage! “
Now Samuel was confused and replied saying the only thing he could think of. “You mean I’ve won something? “, he asked inquisitively.
“Yes Sir, that’s exactly what I mean, you have won something “
Before Sam knew what he was doing he could feel his hand reaching for his door knob; he looked down to see his fingers sliding around it and his hand getting a firm grip on the handle. A wave of apprehension swept over him as he kept thinking about the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers and what they would say.
“Man and wife found dead…police have no clues. “

Even though this was a really strong thought, he still found himself turning the handle in spite of the fear that was building up inside him. As he began to turn the handle he expected to feel a force stopping him, as the front door should have been locked. He even looked to the bottom right of the door and the bolt that is usually in the frame of the door was unlatched.
He always locked the door and he began to get a little angry that he had forgotten to do so on this occasion; but as his mind was going through this thought pattern the door began to open with as little force as it takes to push a baby’s pram.

The man stood there completely drenched. The light from the street lamps illuminated between the man’s hat and the top of his coat. Sam just caught the slight curl of the man’s lips as he saw a small smirk appearing to form on the man’s face.
The man then outstretched his hand for Samuel to shake. Rainwater trickled through his fingers as he did so which seemed to make extra veins run down the length of his hand.
“Mr. Samuel Peterson I am so pleased to finally meet you!” the man said as Sam went to shake his hand. The man’s hand was cold and wet but the grip was firm.
As Samuel griped his hand and began to shake it up and down slowly the man began to speak again.
“Hi, my name’s Geoffrey Hall; I don’t know if you caught my name earlier?” The door was shut and it’s raining so heavy! My friends call me Geoff.”
“Well, DUH”, Sam thought to himself. He could hardly see his friends running after him in the street shouting “hey, wait up, Geoffrey Hall. Fancy coming to a pub to knock a few pints back?” Sam then allowed himself a little half smile and thought to himself “what a moron.”
“Now what’s this about a prize? “, Sam managed to ask with a bit more confidence and authority. This man, “Geoff to his friends “, didn’t look dangerous. He looked pretty pissed off having to be out at this time and in the rain but he didn’t look dangerous.

“Yes of course, the prize!”
The smile hadn’t left Geoff all the time they had been talking face to face, and Sam had to be honest with himself; he found the whole thing a little creepy.
“Nicky!” As he said this Sam noticed the side of Geoff's coat ripple against his Leg as though something or someone was behind the stranger that stood in Sam’s door way.
He also hadn't noticed the importance of the name Mr. Hall had called until moments later.
“Nicky!” Geoff repeated; then he added “don’t be shy, honey.”
Sam then noticed a small hand grasping at the side of Mr. Halls coat. Slowly a head began to appear, then a shoulder, a torso, then a leg, until eventually a little girl was in full view.
A shiver went through Sam’s body from the floor all the way up to his head and he took one step backwards. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion. He had heard the name Nicky before, it was not an uncommon name but that name meant so much to him. It was the name that they called there little girl, the little girl that hadn't even had the chance of life.
“What is this? “, were the words that came out of Sam’s mouth.
“This is your daughter, Samuel. Isn't she beautiful?" As he said this the man laid his hand gently on the girl’s head as if to push her forward.
The girl standing there was about four years old and it looked like there was something seriously wrong with her. But Samuel couldn't tell what it was yet as she was still in the dark and the pouring rain.

From what Sam could see she had blonde hair, most of which had fallen out, but the hair that remained was clumped together as though it was stuck by something. Her skin was pale and looked to have the texture of a peach. She was wearing a white night dress which was soaked through and clung to her skin underneath; she also didn't seem to be wearing anything on her feet.
Samuel was horrified. His heart sank as soon as he saw this sorry sight; he felt so cut up inside that he thought he was going to cry at any moment.

“Go and say hello to your Daddy, Nicola“, Mr. Hall said, the smile still not moving from his face.
“Hello, Daddy” Nicola said as she started slowly edging herself to an extremely shocked Samuel. As she did so Sam responded by stepping backwards, matching her movements so that there was always the same distance between the two of them.
Nicola’s arms then rose as she said “Can I have a hug, Daddy?”
As she came into the light of the hallway Sam began to notice other things about her.
Before, he knew that the little hair she had on her head was matted together with something, but until now he didn’t know with what. Her hair was covered in blood, and by the looks of it, it had been covered in blood for some time now as he could see that the blood had dried into her hair making some sort of strange rebellious teenagers hairstyle.
The blood had also soaked into her night dress around her shoulders and had dripped precariously further down her body from the wetness of the rain outside.

Samuel eventually reached the bottom step of the stairs then fell backwards to one side of the banister falling into his front living room.
This gave Nicola the chance to catch up with Sam until she was standing above him, arms outstretched, waiting for a hug from her Daddy. He began to edge himself away, scuffling backwards to get away from this horrifying sight, that which, on one hand, he felt such sorrow and compassion towards, but on the other, was so petrified of.
The fear on Sam’s face was excruciating but he managed to pull his gaze away from Nicola to the front door where he expected the smiling face of Mr. Geoffrey Hall to be. He expected that this Mr. Hall would have stepped through into the hallway to enjoy the show. Sam didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he was sure that this man, who had turned up on his door step before the sun had time to even think about rising, he was sure that this stranger, knew exactly what was going on and exactly what was going to happen next.
But the stranger was no where to be seen in the hallway. The first thing he did notice however was a pair of feet standing in his hallway. He could also see water dripping on to his carpet and as he started to move his eyes slowly up he could see the person standing there was wearing a nightdress and that the night dress, like Nicola’s, was clinging to the owner’s body as it was wet from the rain.
The thought hadn’t even acquired to him what had happened to Mr. Hall as his eyes began to focus on the face of this person standing just two meters away from him in his hall way.
It was a face he recognized all to well, it was a face he loved, and it was Claire’s face.

Claire took one step toward Samuel, her long blonde hair, wet from the rain, clung to her head and shoulders and stuck to her night dress. Her night dress was also dripping onto the floor and Sam could see a puddle of water appearing under Claire’s feet and he clearly heard a squelching sound as she took another step towards him.

“Claire?” He asked, then seconds later realized what a stupid question it had been. He could clearly see that it was his Wife.
“Yes, it’s me” , was her cold reply
“What’s going on?” Samuel said. He could also hear the desperation in his own voice so he was sure that Claire heard it also.
“It’s your fault, you know!” The coldness in her voice hadn’t changed and it was beginning to cut through Samuel like a knife.
“What is?” Samuel asked, but deep down he knew what the answer was going to be.
“Why she died! Why she never had a chance to live.”
It was exactly the answer that Sam was expecting but he new it wasn’t his fault. How could it have been? He had realized that he wasn’t there when Claire needed him but how could he have known? Their baby’s death was one of those bad things that happen to good people, an unfortunate act of god if you will, but not his fault… not anybody’s fault.
“What do you mean Claire? It wasn’t anybody’s fault; it just happened.”
He couldn’t understand why Claire was saying such things and it really began to hurt now. He could feel a tear just beginning to roll down the left side of his cheek which he wiped away with his right hand, just passing his lips and tasting the saltiness as he did so.
“That’s right you cry, you Bastard” There was an evil grin forming on Claire’s face and Sam couldn’t understand it. This was his lover speaking his “beautiful princess” How could she be so cruel?
“But I didn’t do anything!” Sam shouted his voice still trembling.
“That’s right. You didn’t”
Claire had started to walk towards Sam, who was still on the floor, with Nicola standing above him as well. As she walked towards him he noticed the look on Nicola’s face, as she looked lovingly at her mummy, coming towards the both of them until she stood side by side with the little girl who Geoffrey Hall had said was Sam’s daughter just moments earlier.
Claire seemed to tower over Nicola and turned to face her. Nicola was already looking up at her mum with loving eyes.
“Go and stand in the corner, sweetheart” Claire said to her daughter.
“But I want to watch, Mummy” Nicola replied and Sam couldn’t help but notice a kind of giddiness in their little girl’s voice.
At this Claire knelt down to her daughter and rested her hand on the back of Nicola’s head.
“You can watch, honey! Just go into the corner and watch from there.”
With that Nicola gave a little giggle, spun around then did a funny little dance whilst she made her way to the other side of the room, swinging her arms from side to side. She reached the other side of the room just at the side of the television and when she did she jumped into the air, whilst turning her body around to enable her to see what was going to happen on the other side of the room. Both Sam and Claire watched as she crossed the room then they both turned to look at each other at the same time.

“What are you going to do” Sam asked Claire.
Sam wasn’t expecting the reply that came next. “I’m going to hurt you like you hurt me, and then I am going to kill you.”

As soon as she had said that she raised her hand above her head, and Sam caught a glimpse of a kitchen knife that was held between Claire’s fingers. Sam didn’t know where the knife had come from. This was the first time he had noticed it and he wondered if she had been holding it the whole time “Claire, No!” Sam shouted. He was too shocked to move or defend himself. The knife seemed to glimmer as it came crashing down and embedded itself in Sam’s right shoulder; the force was so strong that Sam could feel it shatter his shoulder blade and exit out the other side.
The pain was excruciating but he had little time to think about how much agony he was in. He felt the knife being pulled out and saw it rise above him only to strike down and embed it in his flesh once again.
Sam’s screams could be heard echoing out of his front door and down the street but there was no one around to hear them.
Claire was also screaming as she withdrew the knife, lifted it above her head, and then swung it down again into Sam’s chest.
Claire dropped to her knees and put one hand over Sam’s mouth as she kept driving the knife into the man she once loved.
Sam’s screams had now turned into a whimper; Samuel Peterson was dying.

Claire felt a strong force connect with the side of her head as she fell off of Samuel, the knife still in her hand. Only now, she was no longer downstairs in the front room. She was in her bedroom and so was Samuel. She fell off the side of the bed, onto the floor, losing grip of the knife which fell to the side of her. Feeling pain on her right temple, she lifted her hand up to her head and as soon as she touched the side of her head the pain shot through her like electricity. She then looked at her right hand and saw that it was covered in blood, part of which was hers from the wound at the side of her head, but most of which was Samuels.
As Claire looked up she saw Samuel kneeling on their bed, holding his stomach with his left hand blood seeping through his fingers. His right hand was propped up just above the head board of the bed and she could see that in his hand he held a bedside lamp that they had received as a Christmas present a few years ago. There seemed to be a chunk missing from the lamp and she took a moment to have a quick glance at the bed she had just awoken from. The sheets where covered in blood and she could also see the remains of the lamp that Samuel held, the rest of, in his hand.
“Claire, what have you done?”
Claire could tell that it must have taken him all his strength to say those few words as he had lost so much blood, although he held his left hand to his stomach as if to try and stop the bleeding. Claire could tell that it was pointless for him to even try.
Still shocked by the blow to her head she began to shuffle backwards mimicking the way a crab moves until she reached the back wall of the bedroom and couldn’t move any further.
“I…I didn’t mean too” she screamed. She could remember the dream, it was so vivid. She remembered the senses she felt in the dream, the smells, the sounds, the hate she felt for her husband as she plunged the knife in deeper and deeper.
Then Sam muttered one word before falling forward onto the bed, his arms and legs outstretched, blood still seeping from what seemed like every part of his body.
“Why?”

Sam laid silent on the bed with Claire still looking at him unable to move her eyes to focus on anything else around her. There was a deadly silence now and she couldn’t see Sam moving or breathing and his body just looked like an empty shell. Like something had come along and taken, all of what used to be, Samuel Peterson away.
Claire could feel tears streaming down her face; although she had been crying for quite a while she hadn’t really noticed them until now. Gradually she began to move forward to the bed to where Sam was laying until she was in a sort of praying position on the side of the bed. Her arms stretched out to touch her husband moving over the blood soaked sheets as she did so. Eventually she touched his face which felt soft and warm but she knew he was dead.
The tears on her face started to come down even faster now, sliding down the cheeks of her face and falling onto the bed; this immediately reminded her of the rain she had seen in her dream, and just like the rain in her dream it seemed to move in slow motion.

She then felt an object just by her leg which made her look down. However, she didn’t need to look down to see what it was. She knew exactly what it was by the feel and shape of it. She could feel the metallic point sticking into her knee and she was certain that it was the knife she had used to kill the man that she loved, just moments earlier.
She slowly moved her hand down to it then snaked her fingers around the handle and lifted it up to within inches of her face so that she could see the knife clearly.
She started to rotate the knife around looking at every inch, trying to see if she recognized it. It was hard to tell as the knife was covered in so much blood, but from what she could tell, the handle was black and you could see rivets through the handle that connected it to the metal of the blade. The blade seemed to be about six inches long and she believed that she did recognize it. She had a set of six knives on her kitchen worktop in a wooden knife rack.
Quickly and without hesitation she stood up, where she found the strength from she didn’t know. She turned around to face the door of her bedroom then with haste quickly opened the door and went through. She headed down stairs almost jumping down most of them until she reached the hallway. She went around the banister and headed towards the kitchen. A flashback of her dream came to her, in an instant as she remembered where her husband had laid, as she ran through the space where she had murdered him. She also remembered how wet the floor had been but this time she got a good grip of the carpet as she felt the dryness in between her toes.
Eventually she reached the kitchen and as soon as she did so, looked over at the side where her knives had been kept. She was still holding the knife in her hand which was dripping blood onto the kitchen floor as she made her way to the side that held the knife rack.
Sure enough there were only five knives in the rack and one slit where the other one should be. She looked down at the knife as she once again lifted it up to just in front of her face.
“No” she whispered to herself.
“It didn’t happen.” she said, shaking her head. “It couldn’t have”. But she knew it had though and she had no way of undoing what she had done. Just the thought of this made her fall to her knees; the knife falling beside her leg as she did so; sorrow overcame her as her knees hit the kitchen floor.
Without warning she grabbed the knife again and pointed it at her stomach moving her other hand to meet the one holding the weapon to make a triangle in the front of her body. She then plunged the knife deep into her stomach just above her belly button, then fell forward.
Then there was silence.

If Claire had looked outside at any time after waking up, and if Claire would have looked across the road directly in front of their house she would have been able to see a man standing there in a brown trench coat; and if she had looked even closer to the man standing across the street she would have recognized him from her dream.

The man was called Geoffrey Hall and he was working. He put his hand into the left pocket of his coat and pulled out a metallic object that was spherical in shape. As he did this the object in his left hand began to glow. It was a white glow that was being emitted from the object that seemed to oscillate in his hand; also if you listened closely you would be able to hear a slight humming sound that seemed to keep in time with the glow of this strange object that Mr. Hall had produced from his coat pocket.
Whilst this was happening; in the kitchen of Mr. and Mrs. Peterson’s house, Claire’s body seemed to glow as well. The glow seemed to emanate from within her body which was now no more than a cadaver. The glow seemed to slowly move into the air until it was no more than twelve inches above Claire’s body then hovered there for about 15 seconds.
Then as though the apparition above Claire had just discovered where it needed to go, the light shot away in the direction of where Mr. Geoffrey Hall was waiting.
Geoffrey, who was waiting outside, saw the glow exit through the window of the house, he was standing outside of, and shoot towards the sphere, that he held in his hand. The smile on his face got wider when the object in his hand soaked up the light and began to glow brighter. He then put the object back in his pocket then looked back to the house.
A deep but soft chuckle resounded around Mr. Hall as he slowly turned to walk up the street; not giving a moment’s thought to what he had just caused.
He seemed to glide on the pavement with his coat trailing on the floor behind him as he walked away from the carnage that had just unfolded.
As he walked down the street he slowly began to fade, his body seeming to mix in with the surrounding scenery until it was like he had never existed.

There have been many strange deaths over the years. Seemingly loving families breaking up with one person mutilating there loved ones then finishing the job on them selves. The Visitors always come at night when people are sleeping, and they always get what they want.

The End

L A Winterburn