If it wasn’t for the excitement of his birthday Michael would not have felt the rush of insomnia. His bed sheets were tangled from all the tossing and turning, he rose to find it was past midnight. The house was peaceful, in fact too peaceful; there was no sound of his sister returning from work, nor the sound of his dad’s heavy snoring, even the wind blowing the curtains seemed calm.
He glanced around the darkness of his bedroom and mused over the eerie feeling that surrounded him. The air was biting cold, his breath showed a plume of white steam. He suddenly heard a loud thud and when he realised his grandfather’s photo had been jolted onto the floor, he quickly darted into his parent’s bedroom.
Bewildered by his parent’s absence he went into his sister’s room to discover her absence too. An unsettling feeling was welling inside of him, he stood still for a moment feeling rather puzzled, and then a subtle tapping sound came from his bedroom. The fear clouded his mind as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. As Michael slowly paced forwards, the tapping noise got louder, his heart was racing, and he never felt this scared in his life. In fear of being attacked his only thought at that time was making it to the top of the stairs for a clear exit. He crept passed his bedroom door then the tapping stopped and Michael froze in awe. He then heard the rhythmic beat of footsteps, that echoed from his bedroom and the door handle began to move. He wanted to be able to breathe appropriately, without being heard and in a state of panic; he bolted down the stairs into the living room slamming the door shut behind him.
Michael stared at the living room in disbelief and noticed that something was not right.
“We don’t have wallpaper,” he said to himself.
The laminated flooring he had known to have, appeared to be a dirty looking carpet. The air was filled with dust and smelt of cigars. There was a large coal fire burning on one side of the wall surrounded by a brown arm chair and a rocking chair. There was an old piano sat where the television was supposed to be and an unusual looking box with knobs, where the stereo system usually was.
What is happening, Michael thought to himself.
His distraction from the living room quickly diverted when he heard two men talking, a short distance away. In hope that it was his father; Michael dashed into the next room and his confusion heightened when the two men did not resemble his father. Michael was very perturbed when one of the men made eye contact with him and said nothing. He should have been a distraction but the man showed no reaction or awareness of Michael’s presence.
The clothes the men wore did not add up to the same fashion as Michael’s dads. The sturdy looking man was neatly dressed in a pressed suit and he was wearing a hat, having similar style qualities as a gangster. The vulnerable looking man wore his shirt sleeves rolled up, with brown slacks held up by braces.
“We need our money now Frank!” said the sturdy man. Michael whimpered at the hostility in front of him.
“Please give me a couple of more weeks Jack?” said Frank.
“Sorry Frank, the boss won’t wait any longer.”
Frank’s face showed pain and desperation, leaving Michael feeling deeply disturbed. A creaking sound that came from the floorboards above the ceiling, followed by the clonking of footsteps, interrupted the dispute. The recurrence of the trauma Michael witnessed upstairs caused his hysteria to revert.
“What is that?” asked Jack
“Please could you give me a moment? And I will be straight back,” said Frank.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” said Jack.
Frank hurtled past Michael to avoid to the delay of Jack’s demands. Michael stared wordlessly at the staircase in thought. A part of him wanted to know what the noises were but on another level, the dread was swallowing him up inside. He loitered in front of the staircase and captured a glance at Jack pacing up and down impatiently. Jack was clearly out of his mind, he pulled a handgun from the inside of his suit jacket and alarm bells rang in Michaels head. He didn’t stop to hesitate this time and trudged up the stairs, dragging himself along the railing.
“I can’t be here,” said Michael. Tears drew from his eyes and his breathing escalated. He got closer to the sound of voices.
“You have to stay up here and be quiet,” said Frank.
Michael could not believe his eyes when he saw the revelation which had petrified him.
“Sorry Father,” said a young boy, not much older than six. Michael was confounded, the boy seemed familiar although could not be placed. He was certainly too young to be in the midst of all this. He was staring right at Michael.
“Can you see me?” asked Michael.
“Father, who is that,” asked the boy pointing in Michael’s direction. Frank stood back in surprise, hiding the boy behind him.
“Stand back Charlie” said Frank.
“Charlie?” said Michael, “It can’t be!”
They were acting rather too intimidated. Michael turned to realise that Jack was stood behind him pointing his handgun at Frank. Michaels face slackened, his eyes darted in concern, like he wanted to help but he was completely powerless. Frank looked distressed and scared for Charlie’s life. He pleaded with Jack, but his cries didn’t seem good enough. The bullet screamed out the handgun and the hard, cold, lump of metal penetrated into Frank’s head, and if that wasn’t enough for Jack’s blackened eyes, he shot out another bullet connecting the metal into Frank’s chest. His eyes began to close as his life was sucked out of him. It seemed over, quiet quickly.
“No!” cried Michael.
He watched Charlie as his mouth began to quiver, he hung his head and the tears began to flow. Michael couldn’t even comfort him or stop Jack from hurting him. He walked up to Charlie and knelt to his level.
“I never knew this happened to you, but I know you are going to be ok” said Michael.
The anger Michael felt, spread through his body and consumed him, his hands tensed as he rushed towards Jack like a raging bull, throwing punches, that just went straight though him. Michael didn’t give up, he thought that the more he punched, there could be a chance Jack could feel something. Jack obliviously turned to walk down the stairs. The rush of adrenalin that Michael contained caused him to lose his footing; the staircase spun out of control, he tried to reach for the banister but could not grasp it. He fell forward and slid on his stomach, his shoulder dug into the edge of the step that sent him into a tumbling motion. His arms and legs flailed frantically, making his fall sound like a stampede. At the bottom of the staircase he laid still, taking deep breaths as the pain from his arms, legs and head deteriorated, causing him to lose consciousness.
He woke up with a hazy vision and the sound of people talking around him. He felt stiff as he tried to move. As he slowly regained his sight, he realised he was in a hospital and was surrounded by his mum, dad and sister.
“Mum is that really you?” asked Michael.
“Of course it is Michael, we are all here,” said his mum, “I’m just glad you’re ok.”
“What happened?” asked Michael.
“You were sleepwalking and you fell down the stairs.”
Michael placed his hand over his head and raised his eyes towards the ceiling as if he was looking beyond the tiles.
“Happy birthday son, fourteen already!” said Michaels dad.
Michael’s mind drifted off, thinking of what happened, or at least trying to. The noises, the house was different, there were two men and there was a boy and…
The noise from the shotgun woke him up from his thoughts and he looked as his family, to see them smiling at him.
“Have you any idea want you want to do, when you get out of here?” asked his dad.
“I want to see granddad, he’s gone through a lot and I don’t appreciate him enough,” said Michael.
Michael’s family quizzically looked at him, like they should be concerned. Michael didn’t blame them, it wasn’t his normal behaviour and it wasn’t the bump to his head either.
“Which one?” asked Michael’s sister.
“Granddad Charlie,” said Michael.
–END–
