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| This story is based on the painting "House By The Railroad" By Edward Hopper |
July 12th Eighteen Ninety six: 8:55 pm. The year my family and I moved into that house by the railroad. When we got to the house I pulled the coach up and hustled my family out to see what a lovely home we bought.
“Oh John, its perfect” said my wife Abigail, tears brimming in her eyes.
But it wasn’t perfect something was off about it. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. But I could not place my finger on it. Thinking it was just me being paranoid; I shrugged it off and walked up the steps to the porch. It was an older house, you could tell by the door alone. The door was a deep brown coat of paint, with green and yellow stain glass windows. The door knob looked ancient. So ancient I thought that if I twisted too hard I would twist the knob off entirely.
Taking a deep breath and preparing for what lay inside, I twisted the knob, and swung the door wide open. Suddenly I felt very cold, as though I would never feel warm again, as though I would never be happy again. Shaking it off again I motioned for the family to come inside.
“Come on, it’s beautiful inside.” Yeah once you get passed the feeling of death, I’m sure it’s dandy.
But so far I haven’t been able to get passed that.
6:45 pm:
When night fell upon the house, it looked scarier than ever. Had I been my son Jack I would not have slept a moment in that house. However I was tired and so was Abigail, and Jack, so we all went to sleep. But let me tell you oh how I wish I hadn’t.
July 13th 12:59 am:
Suddenly a terrible shriek awoke me, and in front of my very eyes, a woman was being choked, with a red plastic rope, by a giant of a man. I was paralyzed by fear so I could not move to help the young women. I just watched in horror as the women succumbed to the giant of a man. When he was sure he had killed her, he walked closer to me, as though he intended to kill me too. But when he reached me, he stopped and stood, just grinning horribly. As I watched this man I studied his face. He had a very long square face. With a bushy black mustache that framed his upper lip almost exactly. He had black hair except for his sideburns which were mostly greying. He wore an orange shirt. But the scariest part about him was his eyes. They were black and utterly soulless, like a dolls eyes. But there was more to them. They had a pleading expression, as though he wanted to get help, that he felt bad even though he just murdered a gorgeous woman. He tilted his head back and screamed, and I truly woke up.
1:22 am:
“John! John Marston!! You listen to me, you wake up now, you hear?” said Abigail. “If you don’t stop thrashing about I’m going to have to smother you with a pillow” Abigail was glaring at me with her pillow clenched in her fists as though she intended to use it for what she threatened.
“Alright, alright I’m up, I’m up, now put that thing down before you hurt someone with it” I said as I walked out of the bedroom to go get our family dog; Rufus, to take him for a walk. With Rufus in tow I walked out of the ancient door. “Come on Rufus, hurry up its cold out here” That’s when I noticed Rufus was growling in the general direction of the railroad
1:35 am:
“What’s out there ol’ buddy? There isn’t a darn thing out there, quite trying to punk me” I said shaking my head. Turning to take Rufus back in, before everybody starts seeing things that aren’t there, I caught a glimpse of a man with salt and pepper hair and an orange shirt. Leaving Rufus to fend for himself, I sprint to the house to get my Springfield Model 1892-99 Krag-Jørgensen rifle.
Standing on the porch, I can’t seem to see either Rufus or the man in orange. “Great that’s just perfect” I mumbled under my breath. “Who’d want to steal that good for nothing mutt anyway” I said a little louder.
1:48 am:
Suddenly I heard a loud yelp down by the tracks. Rushing down to the tracks I see Rufus just lying there, whimpering and whining. “Rufus!!” I shout almost tripping and falling flat on my face.
When I reached him it was too late. He was gone forever, and for no probable cause. There was nobody around him and there was no wound. “Great” I thought “This is going to kill Jack, how do I tell him? It would be easier to tell him if Abigail died but no it had to be Rufus” Slowly shaking my head in despair I make the slow, tiring, journey back to the house
July 14th 4:45 p.m.
“Hey Jack, come here son, we got to talk” I mumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear me and I could forget this whole nightmare.
“Yeah Pa? What’s up?” Jack said walking towards me from the back of the house
What was he doing back there?
Shaking my head to dispel the thought and then looking down I said “Jack, your dog died, I’m sorry son” Jack just laughed
“Good try Pa, but you’ll have to do better than that. Can’t pull the wool over my eyes that easily anymore,
I’m wise to you” Jack laughed “Rufus is on the back porch, alive as ever.” Just to prove his point, Jack whistled. Nothing happen, no one moved a muscle. Raising his eyebrows, Jack whispered “I know I just saw him, I know it” Still nothing.
“Son I’m not joking, he is gone, forever. There’s nothing you can do.” Jack sat down on the lawn holding his knees to his chest.
“He can’t be gone, He can’t be, I, I just saw him a few minutes ago...” quickly he stood up pointing angrily at me “Show me the body. Right now! I want to see it! I know you are lying to me! Show me now!!!”
“Jack...son...”
“No Pa! Right now! Where is the body?!” He said snapping his head back and forth, looking around. I pointed to the railroad. Jack sprinted down to the tracks, franticly searching. Searching for something he wasn’t ever going to find. He wasn't ever going to find Rufus’s dead body at least not today, because Rufus was standing there. His tail was wagging a mile a minute, and he had no discernible wounds, no broken bones, not even a scratch.
5:30 p.m.
“See?! Told ya Pa. Told ya he was okay, no if you don’t mind it’s late and I’m going to bed, it’s been a long strange day” I looked up at the sun, it was only about 5:35. Well Marston, you just told the boy his dog was dead when he wasn’t. You would be tired too. Sighing inwardly, I decide I’m going to bed too.
July 15th 3:23 a.m.
Sometime that night Rufus started barking. Of course it awoke me, not Abigail or Jack, but me. “Why does this happen to me?” I moan. Slowly I walk downstairs to open the door. Peering out into the black night, I whisper “Rufus?!” All I hear is Rufus barking. Turning around, I walk back inside to get a candle, walk back outside and head towards the sound of Rufus barking. Of course it’s coming from the railroad. “Why wouldn’t it be?” I thought angrily “That stupid dog I hope he get’s....” Suddenly a gust of air almost knocked me down. It didn’t, but it blew out my candle. I was alone in the dark. It was silent; nothing moved nothing made a sound. Run! Now! I turned and sprinted towards the house, and that’s when everything came back to life. Still running, I hear a yelp that turned into a growl. Suddenly I am down, looking up at the drooling growling face that used to be Jacks dog. But it wasn’t Jacks dog anymore, wasn't Rufus, wasn’t anything. It was soulless just like the man with the orange shirt; you could see it in his eyes. Just as quickly as he had knocked me down, he disappeared.
Frantically I rush back to the house to get my Springfield Model 1892-99 Krag-Jørgensen rifle, and rush back out, pointing the barrel in the general direction of any sound I heard. “Come on Rufus! Come on you deranged maniac! I hope you drown in your own blood you lousy mutt!” Stomping back inside I go upstairs and go to bed. Before I fall asleep I whisper “Please let everything be normal tomorrow”
8:17 a.m.
Of course when we moved I forgot to pack my lucky rabbits foot. So my silent prayer, if you will, did not work. In fact if anything it made matters worse. Rufus was back and more evil than ever. Today he tried taking a bite out of Jack. Being attacked apparently made Jack much like me. Very cold hearted. Immediately after Rufus bit him, he pulled out his pistol and shot Rufus square in the face. “I just love natural selection” Jack sneered.
12:20 p.m.
Something’s up with Jack, after he shot Rufus, he has been talking awful strangely, saying things as though Abigail and I were dead. Today when I went to town Jack followed me and declared a duel on some poor fella walking down the street. Of course Jack won, but that isn’t the strange part. After he killed the man, he walked up to his body, looted it, and then said “I just did humanity a favor, if my Ma saw you, she’d roll over in her grave”
August 22nd 4:57 p.m.
Several weeks later I rode my horse into town again, assuming that Jack was in the house. When I got to town there was Jack, completely terrorizing a pudgy lawman. Jack had hogtied him and was taunting him saying things like “You killed my Pa! You are first on my list.” Looking down at my hands it is evident I am not dead, my hands aren’t green or marble colored. “Maybe I’m a zombie…but I would have to die first before becoming the undead”
“Jack what the hell are you doing?! Stop scaring the fat off that lawman! It ain’t nice!” I shouted at Jack. He looked up at me, and kicked the lawman one last time, before cutting him free.
Glaring angrily at the mortified lawman Jack said “I’ll sink down to your level next time mister” Then he turned and calmly sauntered over to me, “Howdy Pa. Nice seeing you again” As though he doesn’t see me every day.
“Jack you fool! You are coming with me” I said grabbing his collar like he was a little boy again.
“No Pa! How bout we settle this like men? Right here, Right now!” He said putting his hand on his holster.
“Son you are getting way too big for your britches. I would shoot you dead in a second if you weren’t my son. But you are so let’s go.” I said turning my horse towards home.
“Pa get back here and fight like a man!” Jack screamed throwing his hat down in the dirt, looking as though he was about to have a temper tantrum.
Shaking my head I get out my lasso that is always looped on my belt. “Son don’t push me, I will hurt you. You can count on that” Jumping off my horse I walk over and lasso Jack and hogtie him. “What the hell has gotten into you? If you act like a child, I’ll treat you like one” I said putting Jack on the back of my horse
“Now quit squirming and no annoying the horse, don’t make me give you a beating.”
When we get back home, Jack has calmed down quite a bit. Taking him off the horse I said “now if I untie you do you promise to stop acting so crazy?” Jack attempted to sit up, found he couldn’t and then lay back down
“Yes Pa…I promise” Jack said in a strangled voice that meant I probably shouldn’t trust him.
“Alright son, you better mind now you hear?” Stupid me, of course I trust him, and only bad things can come of it. Shaking my head I cut Jack loose and begin to walk to the house.
11:31 pm
I was sitting in the master bedroom rubbing the blisters on my feet when Abigail bursts through the door, almost knocking it off the hinges.
“John, we need to talk” says Abigail on the verge of sobbing
“Okay let’s talk. What do you want to talk about?” Feeling more angry and irritated than I probably should.
“I-I can’t remember” she said crying now. How pathetic
“You can't remember... Maybe it was about... Jack? Maybe it was about him. I think we should discuss Jack. I think we should discuss what should be done with him. What should be done with him?” I said trying to control the budding rage I felt inside me.
“I don't know.” Abigail moaned burying her head in her hands
“I don't think that's true. I think you have some very definite ideas about what should be done with Jack and I'd like to know what they are.” I was really seeing red now. I wanted to throw something, just so Abigail would shut up.
“Well, I think... maybe... he should be taken to a doctor” Abigail said, hiccupping slightly because she was crying so hard.
“You think ‘maybe’ he should be taken to a doctor?” I said angrily.
“Yes” Abigail said in a strangled voice.
"When’ do you think ‘maybe’ he should be taken to a doctor?” I asked more aggressively than I should have.
“As soon as possible” Abigail said seriously.
“As soon as possible” I said in a high pitched voice, mocking her.
“John…What are... you...” Abigail said staring at me like I was nuts, which of course, I probably was.
“You think his well-being might be at risk” I almost growled at her. God if she would just shut her face I wouldn’t be so angry. Stupid women doesn’t know when to shut up.
“Y-Yes!” she said. She looked so scared now.
“You are concerned about him.” I said taking a step towards her; she of course took a step back. That makes me so angry, like she has anything to be afraid of.
“Yes!” She shouted nervously
“And are you concerned about ME?” I said still trying to keep the perpetually growing rage inside of me from leaping out at her. This random anger was aimed in no particular direction, just sprays and sprays, but this time, she was in its way.
“Of course I am!” Abigail shouted at me, while slowly backing away from me.
“Of course you are! Have you ever thought about my responsibilities?” I said feeling myself about to snap
“Oh John, what are you talking about?”
“Have you ever had a SINGLE MOMENT'S THOUGHT about my responsibilities? Have you ever thought, for a single solitary moment about my responsibilities to my family and this house?! This house is just CRAZY. Ghosts running around, dead dogs coming back to life, Jack being such a little freak, and then you…oh you…you little…so typical of you to create a problem like this when I finally have a chance to accomplish something, how the hell did I have the misfortune of getting stuck with someone the likes of you?!”
“When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, ‘There's just something about you that pisses me off’” Abigail said coldly
“Oh? And what would that be, darling, love of my life?” I step towards her and push her, almost knocking her to the ground. Shut your mouth women, it’ll end better for you if you do. If you don’t, well there’s no telling what I will do.
“John, everything about you pisses me off, and if that’s the case then you must make God furious. You’re a stupid man who makes stupid choices. How I hate you for it, and yet here I stay with you. I must be a fool to be with a man like you” Abigail screamed in my face.
“Women you best get out of my face” I glared feeling something breaking inside me. Not physically but emotionally something just snapped inside my mind.
“John we need to leave this crazy place, it’s affecting all of us, and not for the better. You and I never have arguments let alone ones where we are down each other’s throat for basically nothing. We need to get out of here NOW!!! If we don’t we will end up killing each other, our son included. Oh John can’t you see that?! Please, we need to leave.”
“Fine then, go, you can leave but Jack stays” I said sitting down on the bed in defeat. “Need a heart? Need a brain? Go ahead take mine, take everything I have.”
“John quit looking like the epitome of despair and suffering. Everything’s okay, we just need to leave so everything will continue to be okay, that’s all, nothing more, and nothing less. Just come with us so you don’t get hurt too. You aren’t as strong as you may think, emotionally I mean. Just look at you, you are sitting on the bed looking like a five year old about to have a temper tantrum. Over the fact that I want to leave this god awful place, and because I think Jack needs some form of treatment. If that’s not emotional weakness I don’t know what is.”
Scoffing I rolled up my sleeves “See? I’m emotionally strong I don’t self-harm or whatever you are implying, so I’d suggest getting your facts straight before you accuse me of such nonsense. Or you could just keep your mouth shut, that’d work too” I stood up angrily heading to the door “Oh and I don’t have Munchausen Syndrome or Munchausen by Proxy either so shut up. Nor do I have Lesch–Nyhan syndrome, Trichotillomania, I don’t participate in self-flagellation, and I don’t have somatoform disorder either so don’t even think about it.” I said opening the door, to exit the bedroom.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure you have all of those things.” Abigail mumbled under her breath.
“You are right; I have Munchausen by proxy because you make me sick!!” I said just as I left.
August 23rd 1:02 a.m.
Slamming the door so hard behind me that my teeth rattled, I stomped down the hallway muttering to myself. “God forsaken women…needs to be taught a lesson…needs to take her medicine…Jack too…need to take medicine…feel better…medicine is good…I am good…okay…I’m okay…must make them…take… their…medicine” Finally I come to the place I wanted to be: the Kitchen. The one place stocked full of knives and other various deadly weapons that we use daily without having any intent other than cutting up that dastardly little carrot that consistently moves when you try to cut it. Without a moment’s hesitation I grab the largest knife I could find and draw it across my palm without much downward force. It left a minor gash, but just think, what with a lot of force this little thing could do.
1:13 a.m.
“Jack!! Come here buddy, I just want to talk to you. We need to discuss your behavior as of late. It hasn’t been good Jack old buddy. It needs to be fixed. I’ve got just the thing to fix it.” Staggering into Jack’s room I see his sleeping form, completely vulnerable. “This is a cash and carry world Jack, buddy. You pay as you go. Sometimes it's a little. Mostly it's a lot. Sometimes it's all you have.” I said raising the knife “This time Jack old buddy, it is all you have” To emphasize that the knife rushes down, gleaming in the light of the full moon.
1:59 a.m.
The deed was done. Now on to Abigail, oh how I would relish her demise. It would be the single kindest act I would ever preform, and nobody would be here to bear witness to it. What a shame.
“Abigail! Darling, I’m sorry I was such a monster earlier; I promise from now on you will get the very BEST from me. Scouts honor. Come on honey, I promise to make everything up to you, just give me a chance.” I said tucking the knife into my now rolled down shirt sleeve. I head towards the bedroom we had shared for thirty-seven miserable nights.
I reach the door to the bedroom, and self-consciously look around to make sure nobody was watching. My cheeks turned red as though I was five and my mother had caught me picking my nose. Who would be watching you? God you are all hyped up. Relax John; this is all you have to do for the time being. Better do it now before it becomes too hard. Better to rip the bandage off.
Shaking my head I attempt to open the door. It’s locked. Oh that…oh she’s going to get it now. By God she is going to take her medicine. Taking a step back I kick the door open, right off its hinges. “HONEY I’M HOME!!!” I scream. That was a pointless waste of breath, I soon come to realize because nobody is in there except me. Gee, you probably scared the pants off a dust bunny.
“ABIGAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “COME OUT; COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE!!!” Suddenly I get an amazing idea. Don’t go to her, let her come to you. Wire the house with booby traps.
Turning around, I head towards the ancient front door. On my way I keep my arm raised in case I see Abigail, but of course I don’t. Like I already said I forgot my lucky rabbit’s foot.
3:30 a.m.
When I reach the door I throw it open and take a step outside. Still no Abigail. I close the door quietly and make my way down the stairs, hoping, praying, that the stairs don’t give me away. Silently I sprint across the lawn and down to a shed that I had only vaguely noticed before.
I slow down so as to not run face first into the little shed. “It’s locked” I said, out of breath. Well no kidding. Sighing inwardly I try to figure out how to get into the shed without making a lot of noise. It is evident that that won’t happen, so in frustration I lower my shoulder and ram the door. Its old wood so it smashes with ease.
Inside the shed there was a spool of wire and several round pieces of wood. Perfect. Taking one of the larger pieces of wood, I begin to sharpen one end.
5:30 a.m.
Once the trap is ready, I drag it back to the house. But then I run into a little problem. The Stairs…I forgot them!! So I take apart the trap and drag it piece by piece into the house, desperately trying not to make any noise. Dragging the largest part up the stairs first was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. First I ripped my pant leg on a nail that happened to be there, that had never tripped me up before. Its Abigail’s fault, she put it there, just to trip you up, to obfuscate you. “Obfuscate?” I said out loud in the dark, talking to nobody.
“Yes, obfuscate, it means to confuse, to baffle” a mysterious voice said right behind my shoulder. Quickly I turn my head to see who was speaking to me. Nothing, I found myself staring into the darkness, looking at everything, and seeing nothing.
5:45 a.m.
“Who-who’s there?” I said softly, expecting the worst. My cheeks flushed again as though I was embarrassed at being caught setting a trap in order to kill my wife. “What do you want?” I said a little louder. “Who are you? Show yourself” I could feel myself getting louder and louder. “Come out you COWARD!” Shut up! Shut up! Your wife will hear you! God you idiot! Just keep going, it wasn't anything, just the wind. “Just the wind, it was just the wind” I mumbled, hoisting the wood back up onto my shoulder.
6:50 a.m.
When I had gotten all the wood up onto the porch, it occurred to me that I forgot the spool of wire. Sighing I turn around to go back and get it, when something dropped at my feet: the spool of wire. “You’re welcome” a voice said. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but what did it matter; I had the wire, now I could finish the trap.
7:20 a.m.
Once the trap was set, all I had to do is wait. No, all you have to do is inveigle Abigail into walking right into the trap without you walking into it first. “Inveigle…?” I shake my head to clear all the clutter in my mind. “Abigail! Come here lovely, I’m sorry, I promise I won’t hurt you; just come here so I can give you a surprise!” You do realize that Abigail is not as stupid as you are. If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out...
“And so Abigail is my right eye that is apparently supposed to offend me? Whatever you say. Hey Abigail! Come on babe! Come out now, it’s okay, come on” Nothing happened, nobody moved, all I could hear was the sound of my breathing, in and out, very rhythmically. Tell her you killed her son, Jack. That will make her come to you.
“ABIGAIL!! I KILLED YOUR SON! HE IS DEAD HAHAHAHA I KILLED HIM. HE IS DEAD, DEAD I TELL YOU!!!!!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I walk back into the kitchen hoping maybe Abigail was there getting something to defend herself with. I’m walking slowly back through the kitchen when suddenly I hear something fall in the pantry. “Gotcha” I say to myself. I open the pantry door and let it swing towards me.
Something hits me in the head. I am down, dazed and confused. “Guess I didn’t like the way you looked” I heard Abigail laugh. Touching my head I feel something warm and sticky. THAT’S IT!!!!
Standing up I look at Abigail who is shaking like a leaf. “Hmm now that wasn’t very nice, now was it? I’m going to teach you that hitting people isn’t nice” Abigail turns and sprints out of the Kitchen, towards the general direction of Jack’s bedroom. “Ha-ha you have got a surprise coming to you Abigail, a big surprise.” I shout. Looking down I see my Springfield Model 1892-99 Krag-Jørgensen rifle, the butt of the gun covered in my blood. How’d she get to that? Just as I was beginning to contemplate how she got my prized gun, I hear a shriek coming from Jacks room.
“Do you like your surprise?! Frankly I think it’s magnificent!” I screamed at Abigail who had appeared at Jacks doorway. She looked at me in terror and then fled towards the main door of the house, towards the trap I had laid for her. Suddenly I hear a crashing sound followed immediately after by a shriek so full of pain it could pierce your heart like a barb. I walk up to the now sprung trap. “I wish I could say that was an accident Abigail, but then if I did I would be lying” I laugh “Now don’t move a muscle I will be right back.” I said to the corpse. “I need to let the lawmen know exactly when you died” I walk away laughing to myself. I go into Jacks room and find the large Grandfather clock. I open it and bring the pendulum to a stop. “There, now all I have to do is wait for the lawmen to come check on us, and they will since nobody in my family will be seen or heard of”
9:10 a.m.
So I wait, and wait, and wait. The lawmen said that when they found me that I was repeatedly saying “They said the birds refused to sing. And the thermometer fell suddenly. As if God himself had His breath stolen away. No one there dared speak aloud. As much in shame as in sorrow. They uncovered the bodies one by one. The eyes of the dead were closed, as if waiting for permission to open them. Were they still dreaming of ice cream and monkey bars? Of birthday cake and no future but the afternoon? Or had their innocence been taken along with their lives? Buried in the cold earth so long ago. These fates seemed too cruel even for God to allow. Or are the tragic young born again when the world's not looking?”
December 16th 6:00 p.m.
So now here I sit, in a large white cell, with a twin bed with straps hanging off it. I cannot have any dangerous objects with me, and they made me write this in red crayon on circles of paper. Funny the crayon had to be red; I feel like it signifies what I have done in my life. If I had been a good man, maybe it would have been green, or if I had been a kind man maybe a sky blue crayon would be my writing utensil. But no I am a bad man so I get red, which is fine by me since that’s all I see nowadays anyway. I finally found out who the mysterious voice belonged to when I was making the trap: Dutch van der Linde. He had apparently murdered his who family in an effort to regain control in his life, in his mind he was the alpha, but to everybody else he was the Beta, the lesser of importance. By now though Dutch has been long dead, condemned to die with his knees bent in an electric chair, a fate determined by a jury of his “peers”. If only I could be so lucky.
But no, I am forced to spend the remainder of my days with the “crazies”. The people society declares unfit to be in public because we have killed someone or we are mentally incompetent. The way I see it, if those are the standards for locking people up in the nuthouse, then we should all be in this place, every single last one of us. We are all killers and we are all, to varying degrees, crazy. Who decides who is crazy and who is not? I don’t see people walking around with a stamp that says insane on it. No because the term crazy is an arbitrary thing, no one type of person is crazy, it depends. It is not a universal invariant. But I guess I am a “crazy” to the outside world, which is okay, I will just sit here and rot, my only reading material, my previously written work and the case file against me. What a pleasure it will be. I do so desperately wish that I had a fate more like Van der Linde’s but some of us just aren’t that lucky. If only I hadn’t forgotten my lucky rabbits foot
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