Second Chance

A Story by Jarold Kochmen

Just started this and have more to do but want some feedback.

I stood there, shaking like a leaf in a winter storm. He came closer through the alley. I whispered “Oh God, not today. Not on a day like this one..” As he walked, his footsteps rang off of the cobblestone. Only his shadow could be seen at the moment but his stench struck my nose, even more putrid than the rumors had said. “Go away you vile beast, stop terrorizing these innocent people. They have done nothing!” I exclaimed in a very shaky tone. As soon as the last word slipped from my mouth, something changed within the shadow of the presumed man. One spike, then another, and another could be seen erupting from the back of the shadow. I froze in horror, no longer shaking from the waves of anticipation and dread. The now disfigured shadow came to the edge of the corner separating the two of us. My mind was firing on all cylinders, my curiosity peaked, adrenaline coursed through my body. I knew today was the day I would become the hero of my adolescence. I gripped my handgun tight against my chest, on the defense against the monster that strode toward my ever pitiful existence. The shadow stopped, its owner perhaps contemplating whether or not it was worth the time to kill the man on the other side. At this moment, a tentacle of sorts catapulted through the brick of the corner, wrapping itself around my ankles, I looked down and noticed the sharp glint emanating from my police badge. I was ripped from my position and flung into a cluster of trash can on the right-hand side of the alley. As I lay within the waste, I regained my vision and focus as I scoured the ground for my gun which I located ten feet away from me. A gallop could be heard as the monster sprung towards me, without hesitation I pulled my Taser from its holster. This was the first time of seeing the monster. At about eight feet tall, the misshaped man stood before me, long black hair encompassing his entire being, red eyes shown through the mist of the autumn night. Instinctively I put my collar over my nose as the stench was too unbearable from the short distance that separated us. I could see elongated canines protruding from his upper lip and deeps scars running through his disturbingly statuesque face, defined yet lacking many details known to humans, he lacked a nose, perhaps due to his own stench, hunting most likely by an acute sense of hearing and sight. His thick hands sprung from his sides, grasping my neck, lifting me two feet from the ground. Seemingly on its own, my Taser struck the beast in the chest sending what I thought was fifty thousand volts running through its body. Instead, the beast’s grip tightened, the Taser unable to penetrate the long, matted hair. I was most likely doomed. Unable to escape this beast’s powerful clutch. Tighter and tighter he squeezed, my Adam’s apple detracting into my esophagus and spine popping as the fluids moved throughout…. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Mason slammed his fist against the alarm clock. “The fourth time this month.” He yawned, stretching his hands into the air. “God damn creepy pasta.” This was the farthest the dream has progressed so far, almost certainly leading to his death. Somewhere inside Mason, he knew this dream wasn’t because of creepy pasta, nightmares have never felt this real to him and the previous three never produced such a distinct smell. Mason walked to the small coffee table that lies opposing the television. “What do you think Butch? Is this Rotwander real?” Mason asked his ten month old Siberian husky while turning the TV on. This just in, surveillance footage shows a strange, large man attacking a police officer in the alley between S Spaulding and W Adams late last night, this footage is very disturbing. The TV then showed the said footage, the dark, large man thrusting the pitiful officer in the air. “Holy S**t, is that me?!” Mason erupted in a state of despair and nausea. The man being attacked was identified as LAPD Officer Mason Crouse. Leaping closer to the TV, Mason could see the dark alley only lit by a single light. Over and over the video played. The tentacle breaking through the brick corner, the glint from his police badge, and finally his death as the monster snapped his neck and his arms and legs and finally his body. The police report that the alley shows no sign of bloodshed or struggle; however a few trashcans were found dented and long black hair could be seen along the brick walls of the alleyway. “Jesus Christ. This is real, this is real, but I’m here right now. How could I have died? How could I even be here right now?” He ran to the bathroom and examined his whole body. Littered with scratches and cuts, most prominent around his neck and ankles where he had been held and deep cuts around his limbs, all of these cuts being scarred over. “But this only happened last night.” Mason expressed with a confused tone. He grabbed for his cellphone and dialed the only number he knew by heart, Wes Charleston, his best friend since the fifth grade. “Did you f*****g see that?!” “Mason? Mason! Is that you? I watched you die on national television!” “I had the same dream I’ve been telling you about, but this time, it was real, the dream felt so real.” “Well it was real this time, how are you? Your arms and legs were torn off?” “I have so many cuts and scratches but they are all scarred over like it had happened ten years ago!” Proclaimed Mason. “You can’t go to work anymore..” “What? What are you talking about?” “Millions of people watched you die this morning. How do you explain to everyone that you simply woke up this morning? You’ve got the fresh start. Whether it’s by God or the Devil, you have the second chance you’ve been asking for.” Wes replied. “What am I supposed to do? Abandon my house? My family? My career?” “You’ve always been distant with your parents and you’ve been berated by your superiors for how long? Five years? Write a will, include all of your valuables, money, and house and gift them to me as your best friend. I will sell the house and transport your goods to my place in Seattle, you can live with me and use the money however you choose, but you need to start over.”