Gothic Story

The Blood Red Theater Chair

My heart is pounding hard in my chest, my black Nike Shox padding the pavement, my breathing heavy. I am sprinting down Maple Road for my life because of the fact that I am being chased down by a pack of ferocious bullies. I have them by half a block, but they are gaining on me quickly. They have been chasing me from Eastside High School all the way to a deserted, broken down part of town where I have never been before; it is getting dark. I spotted an old, empty theater with a hole in the window just big enough for my lithe frame. I slipped inside and began searching for a place to hide; the gang would be here in a few seconds. I am running through a sea of green velvet theater chairs when I stumble upon a hidden staircase. I climb all the way up stairs and get out of sight and then hear the bullies breaking the windows to get into the theater.

 I find myself in the attic of the theater hiding behind a prop guillotine; it looks as if it was from the time of Henry VIII. As soon as I find a comfortable position, I start to hear their gruff voices down below.

"Where is that prick, Lorenzo?" says Rick Reynolds, the leader of the pack.

"Maybe he just ran through here. We should check the back," says another of the bullies.

"No, he's got to be in here somewhere. I just know it. Go on boys, start looking!"

I am sure that the boys are not going to find me, so I decide to explore the rest of the attic. It is filled with cobwebs and has a damp moldy smell, it is pretty dark. The attic contains all sorts of quirky props from plays that must have been shown here, along with broken lighting and sound equipment. I am stopped in my tracks by a wall of cobwebs that blocks off the final quarter of the room. Being a terribly curious person, I decide to pull down the silky strands and continue on my journey. To my surprise the final quarter of the room is even darker than the rest. I pull out my cell phone and use it as a flashlight. As soon as I turn it on, I notice two small, glowing, yellow circles. What could it be? I creep closer to the object, and suddenly I hear a screech and what looks to be a black cat, lunges at me. I quickly jump back from the cat and I trip, but I land in a chair. The chair looks like the other theater chairs, a black metal base and legs, and a wooden back and arms. The only difference is that instead of sea green velvet, the chair I am sitting in is blood red. After sitting for a few moments, I get up and look for the cat. I find the cat in the same spot where he was last seen, but now he looks different. His eyes are no longer glowing with life and he looks like he has been dead for years. Was he always dead? No, no. That cannot be the case; I must have seen a different cat. It is starting to get late, so I head back over to my spot by the guillotine to listen for the bullies. After a few minutes I finally hear Rick.

“Okay boys, looks like Lorenzo’s not here. Damn. Let’s get outta here.”

I wait a few more minutes until I am sure that they are gone, and then I decide to leave as well. I exit the theater through the same window from which I came and begin my walk home down Maple. It is a pitch black, moonless night; I just need to get home as soon as possible. My phone has died so I cannot call anyone to come pick me up. I am getting more and more frightened by the second. Anyone that looks at me, I am certain wants to jump me; I just need to keep my head down and keep walking. Suddenly, I am hearing thoughts that are not my own.

“How should I do it? With a shovel? A gun?” Where is this voice coming from? I am alone. “That Rick Reynolds is about to meet his match, I am not afraid to get my hands a little dirty.” The last thought was paired with a devilish laugh that did not come from my mouth. I am hearing the thoughts of a murderer, but not just any murderer, one that wants to kill the kid that bullies me. How did I get this power? The only time I have heard of the ability to hear other people’s thoughts were in the comics I have read. I’ve got it! That blood red theater chair in the attic that is different from the rest must be magic! Maybe it was a magician’s chair that has been bewitched.  Whatever it was, I am sure that the chair gave me this power. How incredible! But, someone is going to kill Rick tonight. He deserves it.

I finally made it home after a long, interesting walk. When I am opening the door, I am struck with another message from the voice. “I have made my decision, I’m going to break in to room and strangle him to death. Once he is dead, I will hide his body in the old deserted theater on Maple.” What a strange coincidence. Why the old theater on Maple? I guess no one would ever find his body if the murderer put it in the attic. I hope he is successful. It has been a long day, so I clean up and decide to go to bed.

The next morning I wake up on my couch and immediately feel very disheveled. What happened last night? I went home and went to sleep in my bedroom, didn’t I? I sit up and suddenly I remember a dream I had last night. However, it is much more vivid than usual.

In my dream, I left my house, got into my black Buick Regal and started to drive. I stopped at a white wooden house with black shutters and a red door, got out of my car and walked towards the side of the house. Once I reached the side of the house, I climbed up a ladder that was resting against the wall. I opened a window and I climbed inside what looked to be a bedroom. The room was such a mess, grimy clothes all over the ground and posters of heavy metal bands were posted sporadically on the walls. There was a figure sleeping in the twin-sized navy bed, I walked over to him, and it was Rick! Once I was close enough to touch him, I wrapped my skinny hands around his thick neck and began to squeeze and squeeze, until his body became limp. Once he was dead I wrapped him in his sheets and with all my strength, threw him out the window. He landed with a thud. Then, I climbed down the ladder, grabbed Rick and began to drag him to my car. I put him in the trunk and began to drive down the narrow, desolate streets of downtown. Once I reached my destination, I got Rick out of the trunk, pushed him through a window, and then climbed through after him. I was in the theater off Maple! I continue dragging Rick’s body through the green theater chairs, and when I reached the staircase to the attic I dragged him all the way up, past the guillotine, through the cobwebs. I stopped when I reached the blood red theater chair. I put Rick’s body in the chair, laughed, and then everything went black.

I am pretty distressed by the dream I had. It just seemed too real. I decide to leave my spot on the living room couch and take a shower to get my mind off of the dream. I ascend the stairs, walk into the bathroom and take a look in the mirror. I am covered in cobwebs and am extremely dirty. I cleaned up before I went to bed last night…this dirt and cobwebs could not have been from earlier in the day yesterday. I run to the window to see if my car is parked outside, I did not bring it home from school yesterday. I open the blinds and there is my Buick Regal. How did it get there? I grab my keys, and head outside to look at the car. The front seat has dirt and grass caked on, and there are cobwebs all over the interior. I take a look at the trunk next, and inside of it is a navy sheet from Rick’s bed.

What is going on? I fall to the ground and begin to hyperventilate. I killed Rick. How did I do that without being at all aware of it? The thoughts that I heard, even though they did not sound like mine, they must have been mine. I cannot help but to think about how his family and friends will feel when they discover he is missing, dead. The story of his disappearance will be on the news all the time, and every time I see his story I will go crazier and crazier. I wanted Rick to die, but I did not want to be the one to do the deed. I cannot handle the guilt. I must turn myself in. They will catch me eventually anyways, why not be the one to decide when they do.

Pulling out of my wide asphalt driveway as quickly as I can, I head to the city police station. It takes me all but five minutes to get there, and the whole way there I cannot stop thinking about what I have done, the consequences I am going to face, and the voice I heard. I park the Regal, and walk through the double doors. On my walk inside, everyone stares at me like they already know what I have done. I suddenly have this overwhelming sense of paranoia, and I believe they all want to hurt me. I shake off my last thought. “They should be afraid of you, Lorenzo, you are the murderer.” Where did that come from?

I am told by the middle-aged secretary to wait in one of the many wooden chairs. I choose not to sit down and instead I pace up and down the checkered white and black marble floor. “Lorenzo, you know if you turn yourself in for this crime, that doesn’t mean I will leave you at peace.” It was the voice again. “Stop it!” I said aloud by mistake.

“Stop what?” the secretary asked.

“Nothing.”

“Okay then…the Chief will see you now.”

After a short walk down the mahogany-walled hallway, I am inside the Chief’s office, Chief Reynolds, the nameplate said. I gasp. The Chief is Rick’s mother. Here I am to tell her that I killed her son. Well here it goes.

“Chief, my name is Lorenzo Knotz, I came to discuss a murder that I am aware of.”

“Oh my goodness Lorenzo! What do you know?” exclaimed the chief.

“I am terribly, terribly sorry to tell you that I… I  murdered your son Rick last night when I was in a trance. An old theater chair possessed me to do so. I heard voices that were not my own thoughts. They told me how to kill Rick, and I believe that I listened to them and followed their directions. I put the pieces together this morning, and I am afraid that I have killed him.”

“Lorenzo, what are you talking about? Rick is not dead. I ate breakfast with him no more than an hour ago.”

What was she talking about? The chair possessed me to murder Rick didn’t it? “You should just kill her too, Lorenzo.” The voice says to me. No I cannot kill her, I already killed her son.

“Lorenzo, are you okay? You look pale. I think that we need to get you some help, you may have a condition that needs to be looked after.” says the Chief, with concern on her face, “You did not murder Rick, but I recommend that you have a psychiatric examination.”

The next day Lorenzo is examined, and it is determined that he is schizophrenic. He spends the rest of his life in the state psychiatric ward at Smith Creek Hospital for the Mentally Ill.

To this day an unsolved murder still exists about a body that was found in the old theater off Maple in the blood red theater chair. The victim was discovered a week after Lorenzo was committed.