David Lapage, Jr. has written several short stories and quite a few school papers. He has never been published and looks forward to the day he is. While not writing something, he enjoys watching movies, tinkering in the garage, and geocaching. He is a huge fan of Local H and enjoys reading. He lives in Illinois with his wife and two cats (one that’s a sweetheart and the other’s trouble).
You can find more of his work Here.
UNTITLED
by
David Lapage, Jr.
“No one believed me, and then it happened again,” said the young man sitting across the table from me.
He was in his early twenties. Handsome, but looking fatigued. I was finding it hard to believe that he was making up such a dreadful story. Young people do all sorts of things for attention these days. Tik-Toks, gaming videos, challenges, but going to the police claiming murder and then following it up with such a bizarre story? This went beyond attention. He was asking for aid.
“Tell me about the second time. Your friend Maria, right?” I asked him. “She was over to your apartment on the night of the 17th, along with some other friends, to mourn the passing of Jason. He was a friend that had died a few nights prior.”
“Not died. He was murdered by me.” The words came out of him like a train exiting a tunnel.
“Ok,” I said. “Murdered. From your statement, you and Maria left the group and went into your bedroom?”
“She wanted to talk about Jason. I had confided in her that it may be my fault. She was trying to help. I had forgotten about the papers, lying on the dresser. We sat on the bed for a few minutes and then I had to use the bathroom. I was gone for only a few minutes, but she must have read it in the time I was gone.” His eyes started to tear up. I could tell that he had not slept for some time.
“Two days later she was dead. Cut to pieces just like Jason!” He barked. The tears were flowing freely now. I needed to calm him down.
“Tell me about the papers on the dresser. What are they? What do they say?” I was trying to take his attention away from the death of his two friends. The police had already cleared him of the crimes. He was out of town with family when both had occurred. Police were still searching for a suspect.
“It’s a story I wrote. I woke up one night and the words just sprang from me onto the paper. I never write, but I had to. It was forced from me,” he looked down at his hands. I could tell that he was having a hard time saying these things out loud.
“What is the story about? What is it called?” I wanted to keep him talking. If he shuts up now, I may never get to the bottom of this. When the police finally cleared him, they handed him to me and asked me to try and get any information about Maria and Jason I could. Perhaps the young man knew of another common friend or enemy that could lead to an arrest.
“It doesn’t have a name. That part didn’t come to me. I just left it untitled.” He looked up at me. “It’s not what it says. It’s what it does.”
He had a look of hopelessness. I felt bad for him. He was carrying a lot of guilt for something he did not do. Losing friends can be hard, but his look said something else. He felt responsible. I needed to find a way to make him realize that it was not his fault.
“What does it do?” I asked.
“It kills the person who reads it.” He swallowed and then continued. “Someone reads the story and then their name appears at the bottom. Below the names of the prior readers. A few days later they are found murdered horrifically.”
This is the story that he told the police. They found it ridiculous, of course. They assumed he had just watched The Ring or something and was playing a game. They refused to even read the story so that he would not get any satisfaction from the game. They cleared him soon after and moved in a different direction for the investigation.
I opened the file that was on the table and pulled out the two pieces of paper.
“Do you mind if I read the story?” I was determined to rid him of this idea. I would read the story and when he came back to see me in a few days, we could move on from this silly idea.
“I would not do that if I were you” he replied quickly. He reached out for the papers, but I drew them close to me.
“It will only take a moment. The story is short and I’m a quick reader.” I started to read.
I finished and looked up at him. “Why did you do this? How did you do this?"
He just stared at me.
“The story is just this conversation. Did you guess what we would talk about and write a story to match it? This is not a game. I’m upset that you would not take this seriously. And then adding my name to the bottom? How did you even get into my file? This is a gross violation. These files are private information.”
He just continued to stare at me. I was upset. I would have to report this to my supervisor and perhaps the police. The nerve of him. Doesn’t he see that I’m here to help?
“We will have to conclude for the day. I need to speak to some people before we can continue.” I stood up and held my arm towards the door. “For now, we can keep our appointment for next week. I will call if that changes.”
He stood and started to leave. “Goodbye, Robert. It was nice to meet you.”
He left the room. The way he had said goodbye had unsettled me.
The End for you
Jason
Maria
Robert
Patrick