Running From Memories
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Dustin was running in the dark. He had no idea where he was going, but it didn’t matter because his legs were moving and that’s all that mattered right now. His feet pounded on the ground as if they wanted to run away from something terrible behind him.
The sound of their pounding echoed through the empty streets like a drumbeat. It seemed louder than usual tonight for some reason. Maybe it wasn’t just Dustin who could hear them? Was this how everyone felt when they ran at night?
Did people feel the same way about the sounds around them then too or did they only notice those things after being chased by whatever lurked out there waiting to kill you?
He’d been running for hours already, maybe days even though time meant nothing anymore since everything changed so long ago. All he knew is that every step brought him closer to wherever he needed to be. If he stopped now he would never make it back home again.
No one else lived here anymore anyway; not with what happened last year. Everyone left except for himself and his mom. She stayed because she couldn’t leave her husband alone while he died inside. That made sense, really, but still…it hurt knowing she chose to stay instead of coming along with him.
They should have come together before it was too late. Then none of this would’ve ever happened. But life doesn’t work that way sometimes does it? You can plan your whole future down to the smallest detail yet somehow fate always seems to find ways to fuck up the best-laid plans.
And why wouldn’t it? Life isn’t fair. People die young without warning, others live well into old age despite having done horrible things during their lives. Some are born blind while other children grow up perfectly healthy.
There’s no rhyme or reason to anything we do, which means our actions don’t mean shit once death comes knocking on our door. Sooner or later everyone dies. We’re all destined to meet our maker eventually whether we want to go peacefully in our sleep or get ripped apart by monsters hiding under the bed ready to eat us alive.
But I’m not scared of dying anymore. Not like I used to be. Now my biggest fear is losing someone close to me. Losing anyone at all. Death has become such an everyday thing these past few years that it almost feels normal to think about it.
When you see it happen over and over again, day after day, month after month, year after year, it becomes hard not to believe that someday it will finally catch up to you. After seeing so many friends and family members pass away, it became impossible for me to imagine living forever.
Why bother trying to fight against it when all you’ll end up doing is wasting precious time? Time is the most valuable resource we own. Once spent, it cannot be regained. It’s gone forever. What good is fighting when there’s no point in winning?
Better to let yourself go and accept your inevitable demise rather than waste another second struggling to survive. At least then you won’t have to worry about getting killed by monsters lurking in the shadows.
That’s exactly what happened to my dad. One minute he was sitting next to Mom watching TV and laughing as they ate dinner together. The next moment he got sick and started coughing uncontrollably until blood came gushing out of his mouth.
He fell onto the floor and rolled around moaning in pain. My mom screamed and tried to help him but he pushed her aside and crawled towards the front door. Before she could stop him, he opened it and stepped outside into the darkness.
A monster appeared out of nowhere and grabbed hold of his leg. Dad kicked and struggled but the creature pulled harder, dragging him deeper into the forest beyond our house. By the time I heard his screams, it was far too late.
I remember standing in the doorway staring blankly at the spot where he disappeared. Tears streamed down my face as I watched helplessly. How could he leave us? Didn’t he know how much we loved him? Even though he hadn’t been a great father, he was still my dad and I missed him terribly.
I cried myself to sleep that night thinking about how unfair it all was. As soon as dawn broke, I woke up and went looking for him. I followed the trail of bloody footprints leading off into the woods hoping to find him lying somewhere nearby.
Instead, I found his body hanging upside-down from a tree branch. His throat had been torn open and he was covered in bruises. Someone must have attacked him right after he left the house. Whoever did this wanted to kill him quickly so he didn’t suffer?
Maybe whoever killed him thought if he were dead he wouldn’t be able to tell them who sent him. Or maybe they just enjoyed killing people. Either way, it wasn’t enough. They weren’t satisfied with only taking his life. They also took mine too.
My mother blamed herself for letting him walk out the door. She said she should have known better than to trust him. That he was going to betray her sooner or later. I told her not to blame herself. It wasn’t her fault. Besides, she shouldn’t have trusted him either.
She should have seen through his lies and realized he was never capable of loving anyone. Not even himself. That’s why he ended up leaving us behind. Because deep down inside he knew he’d failed both of us. He couldn’t take being a shitty husband and father anymore. So he ran away.
Just like he always did whenever things got tough. Only now he was running from something worse than any monster. Something that would haunt him every single day for the rest of his miserable existence.
After that incident, I stopped trusting men completely. Every one of them turned out to be nothing more than liars and cheats. All except for my brother, of course. He was different. Unlike the others, he seemed genuine. Kindhearted too.
I guess that’s why he decided to marry my sister instead of some other woman. Of course, he probably felt sorry for her since everyone else treated her badly. But whatever the reason, he married her because he genuinely cared about her.
And unlike the others, he stayed faithful to her throughout their entire marriage. Sure, he cheated on her once or twice before they divorced. But he apologized afterward and promised to change. For the sake of his children, he vowed to make amends and do everything possible to ensure they grew up happy and healthy.
He kept his promise too. He worked hard to provide for us while raising two kids alone. He sacrificed so much to give us a decent life. We lived comfortably without ever having to struggle financially. He taught me how important it was to work hard and earn money honestly.
To respect those who earned theirs legitimately and avoid cheating or stealing from them. Most importantly, he showed me how to love unconditionally. No matter what kind of person you are, there’s always someone willing to treat you well.
You don’t need to look for a perfect match; just find a good man who treats you kindly. If your partner is mean to you then dump him and move on. Don’t waste another second trying to fix him. There will always be plenty of nice guys waiting for you.
When I became an adult, I met a guy named Jack. At first, he made me feel uncomfortable. Like most men, he stared at my chest when we talked. But I ignored it and gave him the benefit of the doubt. After all, I figured he might have a girlfriend back home.
Plus, he was older than me by several years. Older men often get nervous around young women. Especially ones as pretty as me. When he finally asked me out, I accepted immediately. The date went really well. He paid for dinner and drove me home afterward. Then he walked me to the front door. Before he kissed me goodbye, he whispered “Goodnight beautiful.”
That simple gesture melted my heart. I fell head over heels in love with him instantly. My feelings were mutual too. He confessed he’d fallen in love with me during our very first conversation. From that point forward, we spent almost every waking moment together.
Sometimes, we’d go days without seeing each other but we managed to stay connected via phone calls and text messages. Our relationship progressed rapidly until eventually, we started living together. In fact, we moved in together shortly after meeting.
Since neither of us owned property yet, we rented a small apartment. A few months later, we bought a bigger place closer to town. Once again, we shared the mortgage equally. By that time, we already had three children. Two boys and a girl.
We loved spending time with our family. On weekends, we’d invite friends and relatives over for barbecues. Everyone looked forward to these gatherings. They were fun and relaxing. Whenever we invited new guests, they usually brought along their own families.
Eventually, word spread about how great our parties were and everyone began inviting us to attend events hosted by other people. Soon enough, we attended countless weddings, baby showers, birthday celebrations, and holiday dinners.
Even though we didn’t know many of the attendees personally, we still enjoyed ourselves immensely. People liked hanging out with us. We laughed loudly, danced wildly, and ate copious amounts of food. As far as I could tell, no one minded if we drank alcohol or smoked cigarettes.
Or maybe they just pretended not to notice? Either way, none of this bothered us. We simply acted naturally and let the party flow organically.
One night, Jack came home drunk. He stumbled into bed and passed out right away. That wasn’t unusual. He did it quite frequently whenever he got intoxicated. However, tonight was different. Instead of falling asleep like normal, he rolled onto his side facing me.
His eyes remained open but he couldn’t seem to focus properly. It appeared he was looking directly at me even though he was lying down. Finally, he mumbled something incoherently before passing out.
I sat up straight and watched him sleep for a minute. Something was off. Normally, he would roll over and fall back to sleep within seconds. This time, however, he continued staring at me. I wondered what he wanted. Was he dreaming? Did he want to say good morning?
Maybe he needed help getting dressed or preparing breakfast. Whatever the case, I knew he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. So I quietly slipped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen.
After making coffee, I returned to the bedroom and took a seat next to Jack. I placed my hand gently on top of his shoulder and shook him awake. He groaned softly and turned towards me. For some reason, he seemed startled to see me sitting beside him. Then he smiled and said “Hi honey!”
“What happened?” I asked.
Jack blinked twice and tried to speak. Unfortunately, he failed miserably. All he managed to do was make weird noises and gurgle nonsense sounds. Frustrated, I slapped his cheek hard enough to knock him unconscious. When he woke up two hours later, he apologized profusely.
Apparently, he blacked out because he hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime. And now that he thought about it, he realized he should’ve stopped drinking much earlier. Nevertheless, he insisted everything was fine. Nothing else ever occurred between us again.
A year later, Jack died suddenly from a massive stroke. Although we weren’t married, we lived together so I inherited half of his assets. Fortunately, I also received life insurance benefits. Thanks to those funds, I was able to pay off our mortgage and buy a nice house in a quiet neighborhood.
Shortly thereafter, I remarried. To a man who treated me better than anyone else in my entire life. He never cheated on me either. Not once! Sadly, he passed away last month due to cancer. Now I’m alone again. Except for my kids. This brings me to why I decided to contact you today…
***
The following day, I called Detective Smith’s office and left a message asking her to call me ASAP. She responded promptly and told me she’d be happy to meet with me. The detective explained that there were several reasons why someone might have been interested in contacting me.
One possibility is that my late husband may have known the person responsible for killing him. Another possible explanation is that the killer himself contacted me. If this was true, then the police would need to find out exactly when and where the communication took place.
Based on the information provided by the caller, the detectives hoped to determine whether any of the victims’ phones had recently rung. In addition, they planned to review all outgoing calls made during the past few weeks.
As expected, the investigators found nothing suspicious regarding my phone records. Nor did they uncover any evidence suggesting I knew the identity of my dead husband’s murderer. After reviewing the details surrounding each victim’s death, the authorities concluded that Jack must’ve been killed by an unknown assailant.
According to them, his murder was most likely unrelated to the others. Still, they promised to keep investigating until they uncovered every single detail related to his untimely demise.
During the course of their investigation, the cops discovered another interesting fact: none of the deceased men-owned cellphones. None of them used computers either. But they did have landlines. These devices allowed them to receive incoming telephone calls.
Yet despite having access to such technology, none of the victims chose to use it. Why? Because doing so would expose themselves to potential danger. Hence, they opted instead to remain incognito while communicating via traditional methods.
In order to solve this mystery, the officers conducted interviews with dozens of people. They questioned friends, family members, coworkers, neighbors, acquaintances, etc. Most of these individuals claimed not to know the names of the murdered men.
Some of them didn’t even recognize the faces pictured above. Others admitted to knowing one or more of the victims personally. Nonetheless, no one could provide useful clues as to how the murders took place. Consequently, the detectives eventually gave up trying to figure out who committed the crimes.
However, I still don’t understand why the killer targeted my late husband. It doesn’t make sense. Unless he somehow knew Jack was involved in something illegal. Or maybe he suspected he possessed incriminating documents relating to the killings.
Regardless, I can assure you Jack wasn’t guilty of committing any crime against society. He simply worked too many hours to afford to pay for a cellphone plan. As far as I know, he never met the other victims before meeting them through work. Therefore, I doubt he had anything to hide.
Besides, if he did, he probably wouldn’t have let me live with him. That being said, I admit I haven’t seen him in over ten years. So perhaps he changed after marrying me. Who knows what kind of secrets he kept hidden inside his head?
I realize this letter will sound like a confession. However, I swear I’m telling the truth. My conscience won’t allow me to lie about anything. Especially since I feel compelled to share this story with you. Maybe you’ll learn something new about your father. Perhaps you already know everything there is to know about him. Either way, please take care of yourself. And stay safe.
Sincerely yours,
Mona Johnson
***
“This is bullshit,” I muttered under my breath. “It has to be.”
After reading Mona’s account, I couldn’t help but wonder whether she really wrote this letter herself. Could she possibly be lying? Was she merely fabricating stories in hopes of getting me to do something stupid? For example, convincing me to travel to New York City and confront her directly.
Or maybe she wanted me to visit her at home. Then again, maybe she just wants me to stop obsessing over her. Whatever the case, I needed to talk to her. Right now. Before things got worse.
Unfortunately, I lacked the means to get to Manhattan. Not without spending thousands of dollars first. Plus, I didn’t want to leave town right away. Instead, I decided to wait for a few days and see if she sent me any additional letters. If she did, then I’d consider visiting her.
Until then, I figured I should focus on finding a job. Hopefully, I could earn enough money to buy myself a plane ticket within the next week or two.
By Friday afternoon, I finally managed to secure employment. A local company hired me to write content for its website. Although the pay rate was low, the position offered plenty of flexibility. This meant I could easily adjust my schedule whenever necessary.
Moreover, I didn’t mind working from home. Since I lived alone, it saved me the trouble of commuting back and forth between my apartment and the office every morning. The only downside was that I had to spend several hours writing articles.
Nevertheless, the gig paid well. In fact, it turned out to be much better than the last one I held. Thus, I felt lucky to find a decent-paying job so quickly.
The End