Choices
I parked my van in front of the house belonging to my friend, Adeeb in the suburb of Woodbury.
The clock on my van reads 11:01.
Opening the door of my car, a thought rose to my mind.
Wouldn’t it be funny if I pranked him by ringing the doorbell to his front door, and ran to his backdoor and knocked the door there?
I walk to his front door, laughing the whole way.
Stop for a couple seconds to get it out of my system.
Get ready.
I ring the doorbell and sprint quickly and quietly around his house to his backyard.
I climb the stairs to his patio as fast as I could and go to his backdoor.
I look through his screen door expecting to see him looking around outside his front door.
But instead…
I see no one.
No one!
“Hmmm… that’s strange,” I think to myself,” Why is that?”
I mean… I just texted him eight minutes ago.
I get my cell phone out of my pocket and sit down on a bench out on the patio.
Turn it on, read the text.
Printed on the screen,” U can come over now dude.”
Wait for a couple more minutes.
Ok… what should I do…
As I am thinking I hear a noise from the outside of his patio.
It’s coming from upstairs, from the inside of his house… from an open window.
It sounds like a shower.
I then hear… something else…
Loud banging.
Struggling.
Sounds as if someone is gasping for air!
The gasping suddenly stops.
I hear laughter.
Loud, chaotic, obsessive laughter.
Oh no… Adeeb must be in trouble!
I immediately dial 9-1-1.
“Hello. 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi umm… I’m at my friend Adeeb’s house and I think he is trouble, come quick!”
“Ok we will dispatch a police to your cell phone’s location immediately.”
I run to my van.
Nine minutes pass.
It is now 11:19 AM.
The police force rolls up to his house.
Four Dodge Chargers, painted in black and white with “Woodbury Police Force” decals pasted along the sides.
Police lights going everywhere.
Loud police sirens.
The whole shebang.
“Is this the place?”, asks an officer, pointing to the correct house.
“Yep… I heard struggling and really obsessive laughing coming from the upstairs.”
“Okay… we will see what’s up. You should stay back.”
I take a couple steps back, but my curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to see what happened in that house.
Ten officers, intently and very cautiously knock down the door after a series of ringing attempts.
They stealthily enter the building to the unknown.
I wait, my palms sweaty in anticipation, my body leaning on the side of my van, waiting for something. Anything. Where could Adeeb be?
Eleven minutes go by. It is now 11:39.
All of a sudden…
The loud sound of glass breaking, explosions, and people crying from pain emerges from the house.
Then, quietness.
What could it be? Where is Adeeb? What happened to the police officers?
I try to peak through the open door from the other side of the street.
As soon as I go to do that, the door slams shut.
I then see the curtains slightly ruffle, and then nothing.
I am scared out of my mind at this point.
I don’t know what to do.
I look around me, nervously.
I reach for my cell phone in my pocket.
It isn’t there, I must have forgotten on the patio bench.
I do not want to go near that house.
I go into one of the cop cars and grab a walkie talkie.
I hold the button on the receiver.
“H-h-hello?”
“Yes, troop 841, we have been trying to contact you, where the **** are you?”
“This isn’t a cop, this is Michael James. The cops entered my friend Adeeb’s house and now they…”
The radio shuts off.
I need to get the hell out of here before I am dead.
I get out of the cop car, grab my keys, and haul ass towards my van.
When I get there, I notice something.
All four of my tires are popped.
How could this be?
How did that happen?
I look at Adeeb’s house.
The window to his room has writing on it.
“…you will not escape.”
As I finish reading it, I start trembling to my knees in fear.
What has happened? Where is Adeeb? I keep thinking to myself, “I cannot believe this is happening”,
This has to be some sort of nightmare.
After gaining back some of my composure, I walk over to Adeeb’s neighbor’s house and ring the doorbell.
Nobody answers.
As I turn my head to leave, I notice the windows to the house are all broken.
I peak through the window.
What I saw next was truly unbelievable.
Hanging from a chandelier, I see five bodies…. All hung with nooses around their necks.
I look away quickly, crying and stumbling in fear.
I hit my head against the wall to the house, trying to wake up from this nightmare.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be.
Once again, I regain my composure.
I look through the window again, looking more observantly.
It seems to be a whole family.
A father, a mother, two teenage brothers, and a young sister.
I cannot believe my eyes.
I rub them.
Still there.
I cannot handle this.
I go to several other houses neighboring Adeeb’s, each one the same story.
Every house has dead bodies of the ones that live there, hanging.
After the fifth house, I decide to run away.
I need to get the hell out of here.
It is now dark out.
My parents are probably worrying sick about me.
They don’t know what I am going through right now.
What I have witnessed is truly disgusting.
As I am walking down Bailey Road in a rural part of Woodbury, I see a Dodge Charger, painted in white and black with lights on the top and in decals says,” Woodbury Police Force.”
Oh thank god. Someone that can help me.
I immediately start waving, jumping up and down to signal the cop.
The car stops, and through the window I see the officer signaling me to get into his car.
I quickly open the door and hop into the back.
“Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for saving me…. You probably know what is going on by now!”
“Yeah we do… It’s a pretty serious situation, this is probably the biggest case of homicides we have seen in Minnesotan history EVER.”
“Yeah… tell me about it.”
We come to a round about.
But I notice something. We did a complete 360 and are going the way we just came.
“Hey… where are we headed officer? We just came this way.”
“Yeah… haha… erm… the police station is this way… it’s faster to get there that way…. It’s more convenient, uh… you get the point!”
“Okay.”
But then… we turn back onto Adeeb’s street.
My heart starts pounding. I start sweating profusely. My stomach sinks.
“Uhhh… officer?”
He starts laughing chaotically.
“Hahahahahahahahaha….. you thought you could escape? HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
I try to open the door. It’s locked.
Pounding on the glass yields no success.
The speedometer reads 92 miles per hour.
I close my eyes and brace myself for the worst.
After a sharp turn, the car brakes suddenly and my whole body crashes into the back of the passenger seat.
I cringe from the pain to my ribs.
I hear a garage door closing so I open my eyes.
Adeeb’s garage door closes.
There are no lights on.
No noises.
Nothing.
The police officer hunches over, lifelessly.
I curl up into a ball in the feedle position, crying from fear.
I do not want to leave this car.
I just want to die.
After an unknown period of time, I wake up to the smell of rotting flesh.
I am still in the back of the car.
The officer’s body is hunched over the wheel, with flies eating the rotten carcass.
I notice small lines of sunlight seeping through the small windows in Adeeb’s garage.
I must have fallen asleep.
A sharp pain is felt on the right side of my ribs.
There is a gigantic blood stain on my shirt where the pain is felt.
I lift my shirt up to inspect.
A gigantic brown and yellow bruise surrounds a gigantic gash.
I remain in the same spot in the back of the cop car for several hours, laying.
My life starts flashing through my mind, as I think about all the good and bad that had happened in my life. Now being the worst.
Tears running down my cheeks.
I grab the dead and rotten officer’s nightstick, and bash open a window.
Cutting myself in multiple parts of my body on the broken glass, I struggle as I climb out through the window.
I look around the garage and find a rope.
Tears running down my cheeks..
I tie one end of the rope into a noose.
Tears running down my cheeks.
I tie the other to a hook on the ceiling.
Tears running down my cheeks.
I put a cinderblock underneath the noose.
Tears running down my cheeks.
I stand up on the cinderblock, put the noose around my neck, and take a deep breath.
Tears running down my cheeks.
This is it.
Right before I am about to jump, however, something catches me eye.
There is a small bike with training wheels sitting at the corner of the garage.
I stare at it.
I am instantly taken back to the days of being a young lad.
It’s kindergarten.
I have spent a whole Sunday trying to learn how to ride my bike without training wheels.
My father has been giving me a running push at every attempt.
My brothers and mother are all outside, enjoying nice, cold lemonade, talking.
It’s starting to get dark.
My father suggests we give up for the day and try again some other time. Maybe I am too young.
I beg for him to give me one more chance.
He agrees. One more try.
I get settled on the bike, putting my right foot on the pedal, my left foot on the sidewalk to keep balance.
My dad puts both hands on my back.
“1… 2… 3… GO!”
He starts pushing, I quickly transfer my left foot to the pedal.
I am pedaling.
My father isn’t pushing me anymore.
I am riding my bike without training wheels.
The cool breeze runs through my hair.
A big smile is put across my face.
A big smile put across my face from the memories.
I cannot die. I am loved. People are counting on me. I need to see them. They need to see me. I will not let them down.
I see an old shovel sitting in the middle of garage. I grab it.
Quietly and very nervously, I creep towards the door that leads to Adeeb’s house.
I quietly crack open the door.
There is a very loud creak as the door opens.
It is open only about three inches.
I look through the sliver of the threshold.
I see Adeeb’s kitchen.
Broken glass everywhere. Broken dishes. Blood everywhere.
I look up.
All the cops are there, hung around their necks, swaying slowly and lifelessly.
It is getting dark, my guess would be it is around 7:30 pm.
I need to get out of here. I need to see my family. I need to live.
I grasp the shovel with both my hands as hard as I can, close my eyes, bow my head and pray through my thoughts.
“God… if you are out there… I am sorry for not being religious and taking you seriously…. But if you are out there… anywhere… please be with me…”
I kick the door open with all my force and charge in.
My heart is racing.
Adrenaline pumping.
I am looking around. Nothing.
I run down the hallway.
Everything is tipped over.
Everything is destroyed.
There is writing on the walls, written in blood.
“Choice.”, over and over.
After searching the whole main floor, nothing.
I now have to make a decision.
Basement or upstairs?
I scream from the top of my lungs,” Whoever you are… whatever you are… you will die and I will live!”
I hear Adeeb’s voice.
“Help me. Help me…”
“Adeeb?! ADEEB?!?!”
No response.
I decide on the basement.
After grabbing some matches and a couple pieces of broken off wood, I manufacture a handmade torch.
I light it on fire, also grabbing a large meat cleaver from the kitchen.
Torch in one hand, cleaver in the other, I open the door to the basement.
There is no light down there besides the light the torch radiates.
I then hear ruffling coming from the basement.
Fear is pulsing through my body.
I think of my family. My will to live. I will not give up.
I take the first step into the basement. The stair creeks.
I take my second step.
BOOM. The door slams shut behind me.
The noise of the door shocks me so much I trip and fall down the stairs.
My torch goes out.
There is no light.
Searching around the floor of the basement, crawling around with my hands searching for my cleaver, I hear laughing coming from every direction.
It gets louder and louder.
Ouch! I feel a sharp pain in my hand.
It appears I just sliced my finger on the blade of the cleaver, but at least I have it now. I grab the handle.
I then get up, and limp, very quietly and slowly as possible.
I don’t know where I am.
I don’t know where I am going.
I don’t know where I will be.
After what seems to be five minutes of walking, I hit a wall.
The lights turn on.
I notice a large, hand painted picture on the wall.
It looks like a 16th century gothic painting.
There are more of them.
They are all over the wall, neatly placed.
Each one is absolutely stunning.
But… I notice something.
Each one is a portrait of someone.
There is one of each of the cops that were hung.
There is a one for each family I saw that were hung.
There is one of everyone that was killed.
Each with a nameplate at the bottom of the painting.
“Officer Wilson Conrad”
“Officer Lamont Vernon”
As I am reading names, I hear voices, causing me to pause.
“Help me… help me escape… choose to bring us back…”
“Helllpppp… the second choice…. The second option… I need to see my family…”
The paintings are talking to me.
But what are they talking about?
I then notice something else.
There is an empty painting in the corner of the room.
I walk towards it, feeling an unexplainable cold chill throughout my body, getting worse the closer I get to this empty painting.
Nothing. It is just a picture frame.
I read the nameplate.
“Michael William James”
I fall back in disbelief… trembling.
I stare at it.
I am the next in line.
I am the next to die.
I must save myself and these people.
The paintings continue talking,” Go… go upstairs… be careful… pick the second option…”
I go back upstairs.
It is now the middle of the night.
The only light is the dark blue light of the moon, shining through the cracked windows of Adeeb’s house.
I limp my fatigued and severely damaged body to the bottom of Adeeb’s staircase.
I take several deep breaths to prepare myself for what is to come.
I will most likely die… but I feel no fear.
I have accepted the fact.
I take my first step.
Then my second.
Then my third.
Then my fourth.
By the seventh step, my eyes are now level with the top floor and I can see all around the top floor.
There is nothing broken, nothing shattered.
Weird.
I finish the staircase.
Look around.
I hear Adeeb’s aquarium.
I walk towards it.
I have to take a couple of turns to get there.
End up facing the aquarium.
I look down, see fish food.
Grab a couple flakes, open the aquarium door and drop the food.
I crouch down to see the fish eating the food.
A therapeutic feeling emits through my body.
After watching Adeeb’s fish finish off the last of the flakes, I smile from knowing there are other things alive besides me.
I turn around.
I am in Adeeb’s room.
I see Adeeb’s bed. In it, under the blankets, there is a body figure.
Here goes nothing.
I quickly rip off the blankets from the bed.
I look at the body.
It is Adeeb.
“… Adeeb?”, I whisper quietly.
“… Adeeb…?”
Tears start running down my eyes after realizing he is not responding.
He is dead.
“Whoever you are… I do not care who you are... or what you are… I will end this!”
I firm my grip on the cleaver and walk down the hallway.
Nothing in any of the rooms.
All there are in each of the rooms is Adeeb’s family, dead in each bed.
There is one last room.
One I haven’t explored yet.
I put my hand on the doorknob.
Grip it.
Twist it.
Push it open.
Darkness.
Moonlight shining through the room.
A mirror reflecting it off, blinding me.
I walk in, moving so my face isn’t in the direct way of the light.
This is Adeeb’s guest room.
Nothing is in here...
What could it be…
How is this possible?
There has to be something killing everyone?
I sit down on the bed…
Thinking to myself.
Pondering.
But then I feel a cold, cold, hand runs down my back.
I freeze up.
Look to my left where the moonlight is.
There is a man sitting right next to me, his arm reaching around my back.
“Hello.”
I look into his beating, yellow, bloodshot eyes.
He is dressed in an old fashion gothic 1600’s tuxedo. A tobacco pipe is in his mouth. He has an incredibly pointed chin.
“H-h-hi…”
“You are Michael William James, I assume?”
“Y-y-yeah… who are you?”
“I am the devil. My name is Lucifer. Nice to meet you.”
He reaches out to shake my hand.
I ignore his request. “You killed everyone here?”
He frowns at ignoring his offer to shake hands. “Yep.”
“But why?”
“Because… you see Michael… People doubt I exist. I want to make them believe I do. I want to strike fear into people’s eyes who doubt me.”
Silence.
“So you are just going to kill me?”
“No”, he grins,” I want to have some fun.”
“I am going to give you a choice.”
“Three choices to be exact.”
“Option one, I give you a gun, and what you must do is kill three people you love the most.”
“Why would I choose that?”
“Because if you don’t, I will instill hatred into everyone’s soul. They will kill each other savagely for one hundred years. Like beasts. Rape, death, and destruction will be the norm. After one hundred years, the human race will start all over again.”
His grin gets bigger.
“Option two.”
“I will bring back everyone here that is alive.”
“I pick that one!”
“Really? I am not finished yet…”
“Oh… go on…”
“I will bring back Adeeb, the police officers, all these families… if you do one thing.”
“You must kill as many newborns as I bring back to life. Savagely. Sacrifice them to me.”
My mind cannot comprehend the horror.
“Option three!”
“I will leave, and change nothing from what has happened. You will live. Everyone that is dead will remain dead.”
“But everyone will believe you did it.”
“So my question to you is… what is your choice?”
I think to myself.
Should I pick the first option?
Where there will be the least amount of deaths? But the deaths are people I actually know and love…
Should I pick the second option?
Where I value the lives of people I know over people I don’t?
Should I pick the third option?
Where all the people remain dead, and everyone believes I am the murderer? My family and friends won’t know what to think… The disappointment on everyone’s face…
This is where I will end the story…
My question to you is… what is your choice?
Here's a story I wrote freshman year!
