Happy Thanksgiving!

I am thankful for a lot of things but I don't want to list them. If I just list them then they'll seem a little bit cliché because everyone always says the same things. Family, friends, good health, et cetera. I am thankful for all those things though. Anyway I hope everyone has a good Thanksgiving and enjoy the comic!
(Picture from http://3.bp.blogspot.com/)

Meet My Character Blurb

Christopher is a pretty average twenty-seven year old guy. He wears average clothes, has an average apartment, and has an average job. At least that's what everyone thinks. No one knows that Christopher spends most of his money on leukemia treatments for his little sister and it's taking a toll on him. He tries too hard to cover all of the costs for his family and realizes that it can't be done. He has to make money some other way. That's why he got into hacking. What he doesn't know though is that someone is hacking back and she's not very happy.

(Picture from http://blog.hypercubed.com/)

The Eyes

It was probably the worst storm I had seen in my whole life. The rain was coming down in buckets and the wind was howling through the trees like a thousand lost souls on their way to hell. There was a constant roll of thunder with crescendos right after the lightning. I was surprised that the power was still on in my Nana's old Victorian house. She had just passed away and I was at her home, preparing for the funeral.
Even with the power on, the house was still barely lit. She didn't own a television or a radio, but she had an old record player. I put on some Mozart and cranked it to try to drown out the chaos outside. The storm had to be about over. It had been raging for almost four hours now. The record wasn't helping. Pretty soon my thoughts got away from me and my mind started dwelling on ghosts…
No! I couldn't start thinking about that. I would never be able to stay here overnight if I did, and I couldn't leave here in the storm. I went to the living room window and at the next flash of lightning I saw that one of the oak trees that lined the driveway was down across it. Dang! I couldn't leave until tomorrow, even if I wanted to brave the storm.
What was that? I spun around on my heels, but no one was there. I could have sworn that I heard footsteps coming down the hall. It was just my imagination. I kept telling myself that, but I went to check anyway. Nope. No one was there. I decided that I should try to sleep. I had a busy day tomorrow, getting things sorted out with the funeral home.
I went upstairs, skipping the third step from the top because it made a horrid creaking noise that made me think it was going to collapse. As I walked down the hall I caught glimpses of family photographs that Nana had hung. Poor Nana! Almost every single one was cock-eyed. I tried to avoid making eye contact with the older pictures, circa Civil War. They were so old that they were yellowed, and they just plain creeped me out, even in the daylight.
I got to my room and pulled my PJ's and toothbrush out of my overnight bag. I went to the bathroom and turned on the water to fill up the ancient claw bathtub. As I waited for it to fill up I went to the sink to brush my teeth. The water sputtered out at first but then started to run in a steady stream. About halfway through singing my ABC's (I'm a stickler for clean teeth) the power went out. I spit in the sink and rinsed my mouth out.
"Well that's just super." I said it out loud even though no one else was in the house. I went to the tub and turned off the water. I wasn't going to take a bath in the dark. I needed to go to the breaker box to see if I could fix it. Probably not, but it was worth a shot. I felt my way out of the bathroom; tub, sink, wall, light switch, door, crystal knob. I stepped out into the hall and extended my arm to the opposite wall so I could walk in a straight line. I got about halfway down the hall when…
"OWW!! SHOOT!" I stubbed my toe on the stupid table that was sitting in the hallway. As I was cursing under my breath, holding my toe, and wondering why anyone would put a table in a hall I heard the third step from the top moan in agony from being used. My heart stopped. Who was in my house? Nana didn't have any neighbors within a mile. I wasn't expecting anyone.
I broke out in a cold sweat and my heart started again, only now it was double timing to make up for stopping. I strained my eyes but it was useless, so I resorted to my ears. I couldn't hear anything over my breathing though. Wait… was that my breathing or was it someone else's? Okay, I had to concentrate. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in… Stop! I held my breath.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out
That wasn't me. That wasn't me breathing! Someone else was in the house with me. Someone else was in the hall. Someone was standing right in front of me. Breathing. Plotting? Had they planned on meeting me in the hall? Did they turn the lights off on purpose to lure me out of the bathroom? Or had it just been lucky for them that the power went out? Were they going to hurt me? Or did they just plan on robbing me?
All of this was going through me head as I slowly wrapped my sweaty palm around the base of the lamp that was on the table.
FLASH OF LIGHTNING!
Tall. Dark. Trench coat. Hat.
My brain processed the information as I swung the lamp at the intruder and ripped the cord from the wall. I missed! I retreated backwards until I ran into the wall, knocking off multiple pictures as I slid down into the fetal position.
Then the power came back on. No one was there! There wasn't any stranger in front of me. Where did he go? There was no way I could have imagined that. The stair had creaked, I heard him breathing, I saw him!
Being careful not to cut myself on the broken glass, I slowly stood up. I looked down at the Persian rug. Sure enough, there were two soggy footprints where he had stood. But where did he go? I didn't remember hearing any departing footsteps. He had to still be on this floor. He must have gone into one of the rooms. How did he move so fast? Everything had happened within five seconds. The closest room, without going past me, was at least six feet away. How did he move that quickly?
The lights flickered but stayed on. I was still standing in the same spot. I had to move. Out in the hallway I was vulnerable. I slipped into the room behind me and to the left. I locked the door and barricaded it with a solid armchair. I was in Nana's art room. I examined my surroundings and checked the closet. He wasn't in here. Thank God.
All I wanted to do was sit in the arm chair blocking the door and hide under a blanket, but I knew it wouldn't do me any good. I needed a plan. What did I have?
Phone? No.
Car keys? No.
Computer? No.
I had no way of getting to or communicating with the outside world unless I could get back to my bedroom. I didn't know where he was though. What if he was waiting right outside the door for me?
The lights flickered again. Please don't go out! Please, please don't! Okay, I needed a plan before they did. What did I have in the room with me?
Flashlight? Check.
Weapon? Nana wouldn't have had any weapons. Especially not in her art room. It was her peaceful place. I would have to improvise.
I came up with scissors, spray paint, and the blade from her paper cutter. Now I just had to build up enough nerve to leave the room. I knew I had to get out of the house. I planned the escape in my head. I was halfway between my bedroom and the stairs. I could make a dash for the stairs but then I wouldn't have my phone or car keys so I wouldn't really have a way out. If I went back to my bedroom though, I would have to back-track to the stairs. I didn't want to waste any time. He could be waiting anywhere for me. What if he had gone to my bedroom since I had been in here?
It didn't matter. I had to at least get my keys. I would find a way past the fallen oak tree if I made it out of the house. I jammed the flashlight into my back pocket and took the spray paint and paper cutter blade as my weapons of choice. I decided to put the scissors in my back pocket too, just in case. I moved the armchair, but kept the door locked, and took some deep breaths to prepare myself. I held the blade with my right hand and stuck the can of spray paint under my left arm football style, with my finger on the trigger. I turned off the light. If he was out there waiting for me at least he wouldn't see me coming right away. I got down on my hands and knees and looked under the bottom of the door; nothing. I didn't know if that was a good or bad thing because I still didn't know where he had gone. I unlocked the door as quietly as possible and waited off to the side, so when I opened it I would be behind it.
Suddenly, the knob started turning! He was coming in here! I was ready though. As soon as I had a clear view I would spray him in the face and run for it. Screw my keys and phone. I had enough adrenaline pumping through me right now to run fifty miles. I could make it to the nearest neighbor.
The door was slowly opening now. I couldn't remember the last time I had taken a breath. He stepped in the room but the door was still blocking him. He took another step and I had a clear shot, but his back was to me.
"Hey!"
He turned around as I raised the can a spray paint and pushed the button. All that came out was a stream of air. It was empty! Crap. I stood dumbstruck for about half a second before he started advancing toward me. I swung the blade with my right and sunk it into the strangers left arm. He didn't even flinch! I pulled it out and swung again, this time aiming for his neck. It sliced right through the front, making him a human pez dispenser. Instead of sweet little candies though, he shot out scarlet red blood. It drained down the front of his long black trench coat and covered the floor. He still stood there. Had I killed him?
He started to fall forward. I dropped my weapons and caught him before he hit the floor. Why? I don't know. Instinct I guess. I lowered him down, laying him on his back. He was dead. The blood was still warm and oozing from the gash in his throat. I was kneeling beside him, the door ajar to my left, the light from the hall streaming through, bathing me; accusing me.
"He would have killed me if I hadn't have gotten to him first!" I whispered to try and calm myself. I tear rolled down my cheek. What had I done? I had killed a man. I was a murderer! No one would ever believe me if I told them the truth. Even if they did, it was still murder. I had to hide the body.
I tipped the man's hat back so I could look at the face of my victim. He was probably in his late-fifties or early-sixties. He had shoulder length peppery black hair, frown lines on his forehead, a scar running from the edge of his left eyebrow to the bottom of his chin, high cheek bones, pointy nose, but his eyes…
His eyes were crystal blue, almost white. Never had I stumbled upon eyes to pure. So young looking. So transparent. They were the kind of eyes that led to the soul. The kind of eyes that made you believe in heaven. The kind that you didn't leave behind in a rotting corpse.
What?! Had that thought really just crossed my mind? What had just happened? Did I really just consider keeping this man's eyes? I closed my own eyes to clear my head, but his still burned through. They were ingrained in my mind. I would never forget those eyes. How could I if I kept them?
NO!
I had to stop thinking that, but they were so haunting. I closed his eyelids. I just wouldn't look at them.
Now, I had to dispose of the body. What would I need? Paper towels, bleach, trash bags, rubber gloves, gasoline, matches, and a shovel. I ran downstairs to find my supplies. I knew that Nana had everything except the gas and shovel in her kitchen, but I wouldn't need those until later anyway. I found the paper towels, bleach, and trash bags under the sink and the matches and rubber gloves in a drawer next to the stove. I put on a pair and brought the rest of my supplies back upstairs.
I hung an empty black trash bag on the knob of the door and started mopping up blood with the paper towels. As long as I didn't flip him over he wouldn't bleed anymore. I put my used paper towels in the trash bag. I would burn that later, out back.
Once I had wiped up all the blood I took a paper towel, damp with bleach, and cleaned off the blade of the paper cutter. I carefully screwed the blade back onto the base and put it in the closed position. We didn't want to have anymore accidents tonight. I put the scissors back into the desk drawer I had gotten them out of and threw the empty can of spray paint away. Useless thing. I probably wouldn't have had to kill the guy if the spray paint had worked. Now for the body. Nana had an old enough house that the basement floor was just packed dirt. That's where I would bury the man.
I went to the garage and got a shovel. On my way out saw a tarp and grabbed that too. It would make getting the guy down two flights of stairs a heck of a lot easier. I dropped my shovel off in the basement and went back upstairs. I put the body on the tarp one limb at a time. This guy was built. He definitely wasn't fat. It just made me wonder all the more about him. Why he was in my house. What he wanted. Who he was.
I got the body on the tarp without too much trouble and started to make my way to the basement. Through the door. Right turn down the hallway. Here come the stairs. I carefully maneuvered my way backwards so I could keep an eye on the body. First step, second step, third... C-R-R-E-E-A-K! At the same time that I stepped on it the man's head had thunked onto the first step making me cringe and jump all in one motion. Oh well. I had to keep going. Step, thunk, step, thunk, all the way to the bottom. Talk about unpleasant.
I pulled the body the short distance to the basement stairs and started the process all over again. Step, thunk, step, thunk. When I finally made it to the bottom I pulled the guy to the middle of the basement and started digging a hole beside him. After about three hours of digging I had a decent size hole. Okay, he was going in. I pulled myself out of the hole and prepared to shove the guy in, but I guess in the process of getting him down the stairs his eyes had come open. I froze. Somehow they were looking directly at me. It was like they were begging me not to bury them. I was weak. I kept them. I kept the man's eyes. The crystal blue eyes that couldn't have had any evil behind them. Maybe I'm the crazy one.
I buried the rest of his body and cleaned up the rest of the evidence. I burned the plastic gloves, trash bag, and paper towels in the burn pile in the backyard. Who knew murder could be so exhausting. By the time I got in bed it was four in the morning. Of course I barely slept. I kept dreaming about the eyes that were in an old glass mason jar in Nana's freezer. It seemed like I had hardly closed my eyes when I heard someone at the door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
I rolled out of bed wondering who was at the door at six in the morning until I looked at the clock on my nightstand and saw that it was already one in the afternoon. I threw on my robe and yelled, “Hold on, I'm coming!” I ran down the stairs and opened the front door to a beautiful spring day and two police officers.
“Hello ma'am. I'm Sheriff O'Connely and this is Deputy Donohue,” Oh my God! They caught me! No. There was no way they could know, so I played it cool.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“Is there a Mary Carpenter living here?”
“Mary was my grandmother, but she passed away just a few days ago. I'm staying here to get ready for the funeral. Is there something wrong?”
“I'm sorry to hear that. Have you seen this man, Ms...?”
“Spencer,” He held up a black and white mug shot of a man, and although a few years younger, the man in the photograph was the same man who had been in my house. The same man whose blood had so recently stained my hands.
“No, I'm sorry. I've never seen him before,” yesterday, I silently added in my head.
"Some people in town said that he may have helped your grandmother around the house. He was on parole after serving some time for armed robbery but he didn't check in with his parole officer last night. The prosecutor just got new information that may prove him guilty of the murder of four people. They say each victim was poisoned," during his monologue Deputy Donohue had taken to looking at the clouds. I figured the deputy had probably heard the story fifty times by now and was spacing out but then he surprised me.
"Do you mind if we look around the property Ms. Spencer?" he said.
"What?" the sheriff and I asked in unison.
"I think we should take a look around the property. He may be hiding out somewhere in the surrounding woods. If your grandmother had employed him then it's likely that he would come here thinking of it as a safe haven,"
"Donny, you know we'll need a search warrant for that and Ms. Spencer doesn't want us tramping around her property all day," the sheriff said, trying to get out of having to do anything. I figured they'd ask to look around anyway.
"Actually, it's fine if you guys need to search the woods. You have my permission so you won't need a search warrant," I offered. As long as no one wanted to dig holes in the basement they could look all they wanted. They had no reason to suspect me of murdering the guy so they wouldn't be looking for a dead body.
"Oh, umm, thank you ma'am. We'll get right to it then. Just as a word of caution, keep your doors and windows locked until you hear back from us," the sheriff said with a tinge of regret. He was definitely more worried about getting back to the coffee and doughnuts in his cruiser than he was about apprehending a potential serial killer gardener. It's okay sheriff, I took care of him for you. You can go back to your doughnuts. Deputy Donohue on the other hand nearly peed in his pants at the mention of a real search. While the sheriff walked to the cruiser the deputy hung back.
"Thank you Ms. Spencer. We'll find him," I hope not, I thought, but instead said,
"No. Thank you, Deputy. I'm glad to help however I can."
"Please, call me Mark," he said with an impish grin, "If you need anything just let me know," Was he hitting on me? Really, Mark? I guess small town deputies don't see a lot of action so when an opportunity arises to help a damsel in distress they jump on it. Damsel in distress, ha ha! Little did he know…
"Thank you Mark, I will. Actually, do you know who I can call to have that tree removed?" I hated to ask him, but I really needed to get it out of the driveway.
"Yeah, I know a guy. I'll call him up," the deputy said, as if it were a privilege to.
"Thank you."
"No problem at all ma'am."
Later that day I got a call from the coroner asking me to come down to the morgue. The secretary was snooty but the coroner greeted me with unusual friendliness.
"Ms. Spencer, it's so nice to meet you. I'm Dan Stocker. I'm terribly sorry about your loss but there's something I think you should know. You may want to sit down." I killed and buried a man last night. Whatever you have to say can't be that bad, I thought, but I sat anyway.
"Despite being ninety-three, your grandmother was fairly healthy and cause of death wasn't apparent until we did toxicology tests. I'm sorry to say this but your grandmother was poisoned. We thought that it may have been accidental but we talked to her physician and he said her mental health was perfect. It may be too early to say but in my professional opinion, it looks like homicide," When he told me this I knew who had done it and any remorse I had for killing the intruder left completely. At the time I had killed the man in self-defense but now I was glad I did and it seemed more like an unknowing revenge.
"Do you know who did it?" I asked. I played the part of the grief stricken granddaughter but I could taste the bile building up in the back of my throat. How I wished I could bring the man back to life so I could kill him again.
"I can't say for sure but we contacted the authorities and they told us about the fugitive who may have been working for your grandmother. He would be the most likely suspect."
"Yes, they talked to me today about him. Thank you, Mr. Stocker. If that's all then I'll be going."
"That's all. I'm sorry, Ms. Spencer," he said to my back as I walked out the door.
When I got home a police cruiser was parked in the driveway. I figured that the sheriff and deputy were probably searching the woods. I was too preoccupied thinking about what the coroner had told me to see that Deputy Donohue was sitting in it.
"Ms. Spencer," the deputy said as he got out of the car.
"Oh, God! You scared me!" I said, as I spun around to face him, "I didn't realize you were-"
"I'm sorry. I thought you saw me. I just came by to make sure you were okay," he looked like a sad puppy, probably due to my reaction to his presence.
"Why?" After I asked it struck me how cold it sounded but I was thoroughly confused as to why the deputy would be checking on me.
"Well it's just with a potential murderer on the loose and your grandmother possibly being poisoned, I just thought that maybe…"
"Oh, I see. Well thank you for your concern Deputy. I'm fine."
"Can I help you with your groceries?" He asked, seeing the shopping bags I was carrying.
"Oh, umm, sure. Why not?" I didn't really want any help but the poor guy looked like he might have cried if I would have said no. While we were carrying in the groceries the deputy started making small talk.
"It turned out to be a pretty nice day after that storm last night,"
"Yes it did. Thank you for calling to get my driveway cleared for me," Deputy Donohue was actually a really nice guy, I just didn't need him hanging around quite so much with a dead body buried in my basement.
"That was nothing. I'm glad to help. You know, I never got your first name,"
"I'm sorry. It's Allison," I felt bad for not telling him my name sooner but he didn't seem to mind.
"Where're you from Allison?"
"I live in New York now but I grew up in Green County, about half and hour away from here. What about you?" I asked even though I wasn't that interested.
"Born and raised, right here in Westfield," he said with a touch of sarcasm.
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.
"No. No, it isn't bad. It's just that I've spent my whole life here and nothing's changed. You know every person in town and nothing interesting ever happens. Well except for this,"
"You mean the criminal being on the loose?"
"Yeah, it's the most exciting thing that's happened since they put in a public swimming pool," then suddenly remembering my Nana he said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"No, it's okay. I understand," and I did.
"Well, I better get going,"
"Thank you for all your help Mark. I really do appreciate it,"
"My pleasure ma'am. Umm, before I go, I was wondering, and if you think I'm out of line please tell me, but I was wondering if you would like to go with me to the Fireman's Ball this Saturday. I have two tickets and thought maybe you would be interested. If you don't want to I understand completely," I knew it! I should have seen it coming too. Well, what the heck, I might as well get on the law's good side, plus Mark wasn't too terrible to look at.
"I'd love to, actually," I said as I plastered on the cheesiest smile I could muster up.
"Wow, great! I'll pick you up at seven then?"
"Sounds good,"
"Okay, I'll see you then," he said grinning from ear to ear.
"See you then Mark,"
The funeral had to be postponed for a week due to the possibility that Nana's body could be evidence in murder trials. I was frustrated but there weren't a lot of people who were coming anyway. My parents had died when I was younger and my brother and I were raised by our aunt on my father's side. Any family we had left had moved south for retirement and didn't plan on coming back, even for a funeral. With the funeral postponed I could go to the Fireman's Ball and not have to worry about getting up for service the next morning. As I was getting ready for the Ball I remembered the eyes. They were still in the freezer. I hadn't thought much about them since I had stored them but now, for some reason, I couldn't get them out of my head. I went down to the kitchen and opened the freezer. I took out the glass jar and held it up to the light over the sink. There they were; the eyes of the man who had killed my Nana and four other people, almost five other people. He didn't get me though. What kind of person kills an old woman? A bad person. I was glad I had killed him. I was disgusted with the eyes now. Before I knew what kind of person they had come from they held wonder for me. Their transparency had fascinated me. Now, they just made me angry. I put them in the blender then washed them down the drain. They wouldn't haunt me any longer.
Knock, knock. Mark arrived as I turned off the water. I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. I opened it and dropped my purse. Looking directly at me were the same blue eyes that I had just disposed of.
"Are you okay? Let me get that for you," his voice brought me back to reality. Until then I hadn't seen Mark's eyes because whenever we had talked he had had his sunglasses on.
"No, it's okay. I've got it. I'm sorry, you just caught me off guard," I picked up my purse and locked the door behind me.
"I'm sorry, was I too early?”
“No, no. You're right on time. It's just... You know what, it's nothing, nevermind,” How could that be? How could those eyes be looking at me? I had just gotten rid of them. Mark's eyes were different though. They were alive. Obviously the intruder's eyes weren't alive when they were in the jar but even before I had killed the man, something about his eyes told me he was dead. He was without a soul. Mark's eyes were alive, searching my face for some indication that I was okay. Then, almost as if I had spoken aloud, he asked,
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you," The rest of the night was pretty bland. Other than feeling extremely uncomfortable under Mark's gaze, it was an average, boring date. Mark introduced me to people who's names I forgot almost as soon as I learned them and at the end of the night he brought me home and walked me to the door.
"Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you have family around here?" I asked.
"Well, uh... no. I don't," he said, avoiding my gaze.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. You just never mentioned anyone, so I was curious. I know it's not any of my business," I wanted to know so bad. I knew he had to be related to the intruder somehow. Brother maybe?
"It's okay. My mom died when I was younger and my dad was never home, so I really don't have any family left around here,"

To be continued...