Among the Hidden

Among the Hidden

Another long day at a job he hates completed. Another drive home through rush hour traffic including two F-Bombs and half dozen flipped birds was now in the rear view. Another day in his mundane life gone by.

He always assumed he was meant for something more, something better than what he had become. Middle aged, bored, stuck. He always assumed his life would take a grander turn somewhere. As a kid he knew he would be the next great scientist, the next Madam Currie. As a young adult he knew his career would sky rocket, he’d end up at the top of the food chain pulling down a hundred g’s a year. Most recently he knew he was going to hit it big in the multi state lottery, he wasn’t destined to be average he just knew he wasn’t.

Destiny Sucks. The only thing he felt he’d done right in his life was his children. A boy and a girl. They were the shining stars of his existence, when he was with them all the other stuff melted away. He was "Dad" and he loved it.
So what’s the problem? He was only with his kids for a few hours a day. The rest of the time was at work, sleeping, or with his wife. He loved her, but their relationship had grown strained over the years. He still saw in her the woman he married, but he wasn’t sure she saw within him the man she’d married. Of course he wasn’t really that man anymore. The zeal for life, the charm, the desire to be the best at whatever he does, those things have all gone. The only spark of that man left is saved for his children. He doesn’t show that side of himself to her at all anymore. Not that there is much of it left to see.

Then he stumbled upon a cure. The best he could figure was that it must be some sort of self hypnosis. As he was standing in front of their full length mirror one night before bed he caught a glimpse of something. He noticed that the man in the mirror had seemed to notice him. He stepped closer to the mirror, so close his nose brushed the cold glass and his warm breath fogged it. The man staring out of the mirror was him, but not him. This man was more powerful, more in control, and much more angry. He stood in front of the mirror and stared as all the horrible thoughts he’d had during the day played through his mind then just dissipated. Gone, as if stolen away like the mist of an early morning dream. He stepped away from the mirror feeling better than he had in many, many months. He reintroduced himself to his wife that night. He’d not felt so strong, so full of life and hope since he was a rag haired teenager.

His wife had noticed the change of course but found herself hoping so much that he was back, she dared not speak of it because she feared this state of mind was fragile, that one wrong turn could thrust her once loving husband back to the internal bog in which he had lived for so long. She hoped he was back, back for good.

He went to his mirror every night without fail for several months knowing that the next day would blossom new and refreshing. His career had gained new life, he was making headway again. The boss had begun to take notice of his work, which had become much more inspired. He hadn’t realized just how far down he’d spiraled until he had found himself traveling upward. He had left his life behind. But now things were different. He’d found himself in that mirror. He’d decided that somehow his inner voice had had enough darkness, enough loneliness, and perhaps had found a way to reach out to him through that mirror. He’d fixed his relationship with his wife, he’d even started back at the gym working hard to lose the weight he’d gained after he stopped caring so long ago.

That was before.


The sirens outside were so loud they made his head ache. His stupid drunk neighbor must have started hitting his girlfriend again. Every couple of months the police would be called out to deal with a domestic dispute across the street. If it wasn’t him hitting her it was her hitting him. He rubbed his temples and tried to steady himself. He hated the grogginess that accompanied sudden awakenings, like trying to shake off the effects of a few too many Tequila shooters. Man those sirens are loud. He wondered if he’d actually gone too far and killed the poor woman this time. The way they fought it would only be a matter of time, he expected, before one took a knife or more likely a broken beer bottle to the other while they slept.

He stepped into the bathroom to relieve himself. After tripping over the furry rug, what he affectionately calls the "pee sponge" that his wife leaves in front of the toilet, he flipped on the light. He didn’t need to fall and brain himself on the side of the tub or something.

"Man found dead in bathroom after falling over urine soaked rug and hitting head on tub", he whispered to himself imagining the headline in the paper the next day.
His eyes began to adjust to the flood of light and it seemed to bring with it some dawning comprehension. He didn’t remember getting out of bed to come into the bathroom. In fact all he had done was to walk a couple of feet to get there. Jesus had he fallen asleep standing in front of that mirror? How embarrassing. Well at least no one had seen him. The wife had already gone to bed, and the kids before her. He never thought he could sleep standing up, always figured he’d just tip over like a top heavy action figure.

"Up and at ‘em son". It had been a whisper, but he’d heard it. A gravelly voice, like two stones being rubbed together.
"Hey, dill weed"! He jumped. That was no whisper, and whoever it was sounded angry as hell. His heart pounding he pulled the towel bar down off the wall leaving little flakes of paint and drywall to flitter onto the floor. He spun out of the bathroom and reared back to strike. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. He lost his strength and the towel bar fell from his grasp as he gaped at the intruder.

It was him, but it wasn’t him. It was the other him. The one from the mirror. But the mirror was gone. In its place stood The Other. The Other was covered in blood and bits of what looked to be flesh.

"Scared"? The Other suppressed an evil smile. "No need to worry my boy. I can’t hurt you. I kill you, I die too". The Other turned away and walked to the picture window in the living room. It then pulled aside the curtain and motioned for him to come have a look.

"Don’t be shy now. Come on over and admire our work". It’d said ‘our’ as if he’d had something to do with what he was about to see.
When he peered out the window The Other spoke again, "The guy over there, the drunk. He’s not a problem anymore. Not for her, not for you, not for anyone, not ever again". As if to emphasize this point it picked a quarter sized piece of meat from its shoulder and tossed it aside. "See, we do good work together. Now he can’t hurt anyone else. You and I have rid the world of one sorry sadistic A-hole". It looked at him, gauging his reaction and spoke, "You don’t know the half of what went on over there buddy boy. The terrible things he did to her. But I did. Every night for last two weeks when you go to our mirror, I go to the mirror in her bedroom. He did things to her that will probably ruin her anyway. No matter that he’s gone now. She’ll probably kill herself, or end up in a looney bin somewhere, but at least he won’t do it to anybody else. Her sacrifice will be worth something". It looked back at him from the window and realized it had taken him to too dark a place. "Could be she’ll be okay though", he said with a smile, "with therapy and all these new wonder drugs for depression she might go on and lead a perfectly fantastic life. Yup, that’s it. I bet she will". His fake grin only barely hid the real one beneath it. It lived for moments like this.

He was shell shocked. He struggled to make sense of this increasingly implausible situation. He looked at The Other, repulsed by what he saw, yet he had that familiar feeling of power he always got after time at the mirror. He understood that somehow he drew energy from this…thing, but at what cost?

"Is this the first time…" he broke off, knowing as soon as he asked the question he was going to regret it.

"Of course not. If I don’t feed my…our…desires", There it was again, our. It used that word as if he had some blame in it all, as if he should be somehow implicated in the mayhem this creature wrought forth upon its victims night after night. "If our desires are not fed your life goes back. Back to the way it was before". The level of calm with which The Other spoke was soothing yet alarming. That The Other could do such things and act as if he’d done nothing more than flush a toilet was very disturbing.

"That means … over a hundred people"? He was on the verge of a total mental breakdown. What would happen if she found out, she’d take the kids, turn him in to the police. He’d go to prison. He couldn’t go to prison. Fear welled up in him. "I’ll get caught, spend the rest of my life in prison"! He hadn’t meant to yell. What would happen if they woke her. He glanced nervously at the bedroom door but all seemed still.

"They can’t hear us, so calm down. And yes, over a hundred, each as bad or worse than that one was", The Other pointed to the bloody mess being shoveled into the body bag on the porch.
He ran for the towel rod and gripped it so tightly that his knuckles went white.

"So what if I just kill you"? He wasn’t sure if he could strike down an image of himself, even a vile one.

"If you must. But be aware, when I leave so does everything else. The coming promotion, the rekindled love with your wife, all of it walks away with me". With each word spoken his grip lessened until the towel bar sank, once again, to the floor.

"Hey, not so sad my boy! I’ll make you a deal. You decide who pays. Anybody in the paper that needs to suffer justice but got away with it...anything like that. You decide each night so you know nobody innocent gets hurt. Come on pal. It’s your destiny". The Other walked slowly back to the hallway and sunk against the wall, the mirror returning as he did so. He followed The Other, sighed deeply knowing he couldn’t let it all go, and thought…

Destiny sucks.

((hmmm....quite a unique, twilight zone kinda quandry here. Good read, anxious for more.))

((Thanks! I wasn't sure what it was going to be when I started it, still aren't really sure for that matter. but here goes part two.))

He couldn't sleep now so he went back to the window and watched the scene unfold.

The woman was standing stock still on her lawn, apparently struck dumb by the nights events. She watched with mixed expressions of relief and revulsion as they stuffed the last bits of her boyfriend into the body bag. An odd expression flashed across her face if only for a moment. It appeared as though she were about to puke through a smile.

An officer approached her and they spoke for a while. She nodded repeatedly and then pointed across the street right to where he stood in the window. The officer nodded then and began to make his way across the street.

"You play it cool and we’ll get out of this thing just fine", The Other hissed menacingly as it shoved him toward the door. Apparently it hadn't really gone away. Maybe it never does.

He moved swiftly to the door and slid the dead bolt over with a flick of his wrist. He opened the door wide, so the officer could see into his living room. He half expected the cop to see The Other and begin firing his sidearm.

"Evening officer, what happened over there"? Playing it cool was something he knew very little about.

"Sorry for the intrusion Mr…"?

"Mandenheim".

"Sorry for the intrusion Mr. Mandenheim, but I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on this situation for me". The officer stepped past him and into the dark living room. He raised his flashlight and scanned the living room quickly before going to stand in the window which looked out upon the murder scene.

"I don’t know what happened officer…"?

"Lee".

"I’m afraid I can’t be of much help officer Lee. I was awakened by the sirens and lights outside so I came to see what was going on. I can’t say I’m surprised, I think I’ve called you guys out to this house half a dozen times because he hits her so much".

"Actually according to dispatch you called on a weekly basis up until a few months ago. Did something change, did they stop fighting"? The officer once again glanced around the room pausing for brief moments over throw pillows and side tables.

"No, you guys just didn’t do anything about it. A cop would come out, they’d say it was just an argument, and the cop would leave. Honestly I stopped caring". He suddenly became aware he was tapping his right foot incessantly.

"You okay Mr. Mandenheim? You seem a little on edge".

"I just watched my neighbor get shopvac’ed into a body bag. It’s a disturbing thing".

"The young lady across the street thinks you might have something to do with this. She says you are up all hours of the night staring out of this window. She seems to think you are some kind of guardian angel".

"She’s also probably completely lit on Jim Beam and reefer. I imagine if she saw me wearing sandals she’d think I was the second coming of Christ". This made him smile in spite of himself.

"Something about murder strike you as funny son"? The officer turned sharply and faced him. It wasn’t until now that he realized the cop was at least 4 inches taller than him and also about 50 pounds heavier. His smile dissolved as quickly as it had arisen.

"No sir. Just don’t ask me to feel sorry for a piece of crap like that. He beat the hell out of that woman, and god knows what else. If you expect I’m going to mourn the loss of that soulless wretch you’ll be sorely disappointed".

"I’ll be in touch", said the officer as he strode out of the house with one last glance back at the living room.

Mr. Mandenheim watched as the officer made his way through his lawn back to his squad car and began speaking with another officer..

"Well done my man. Couldn’t have played it better myself". The Other had reappeared next to him in the window.

"I didn’t enjoy it". He stayed at the window watching as one by one the cruisers and emergency vehicles departed leaving that poor woman standing on her lawn in her night dress. It struck him how well the The Other had sussed her out. Judging by the frantic look in her eyes and the rapid fire change of expressions on her face, she was headed for a padded room, for a while at least. Maybe someday she would be able to move on, go forward, but this was not that day.

"Nothing like a victimless crime. I love the smell of murdered scumbag", and The Other sniffed the air quickly as if imitating a dog.

"Victimless?! Even if you think he deserved it, look at her! She’s lost, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. If she doesn’t kill herself tonight she’ll be in the mental ward by this time tomorrow! They’ll probably pick her up wandering the streets downtown waxing poetic about the great guy who used to beat her. Until the night she found his torn bloody remains in a pile by the front door"! He turned sharply on The Other but again that feeling of power swept through him.

"you’re the boss man", said The Other, "you tell me what you want". It picked a piece of flesh from it’s teeth and smiled as Mr. Mandenheim nearly puked.

"I just want to go to bed". He trundled off to his room and saw as he went that The Other was gone already.

He awoke the next morning sure the entire nights events had been only a dream. He slid quietly out of bed and shook his head unsure of what to think or feel. He went about his morning routine, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, but when he reached for the hand towel to dry his face it wasn’t there. His shoulders slumped, he stepped into the living room and saw the towel bar lying in the carpet near the window.

"It couldn’t have actually happened…", he mumbled as he grabbed the towel bar. He opened the curtains and looked across the street. The house seemed normal enough. No broken windows or any sign anything out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Must have been sleep walking". He pondered that thought as he tried to set the towel bar back onto its brackets.

It was Saturday, which meant the kids and the wife would be asleep at least for another hour so he dressed and headed for the garage. He’d purchased an old ford, a ’34 to be exact, about a month ago and was anxious to get it running.

She’d seen him look out his window again. Checking on her, making sure she’d gotten through the night okay. She wondered why he always watched her out his window and never bothered to introduce himself. Maybe it was because he was afraid of Paul, but then Paul was gone wasn’t he? All the pieces they could find had been scooped into a body bag and driven off in the back of an ambulance.

Maybe now was the time for her to go introduce herself to him. She figured he was married, she always saw a woman and kids coming and going from that house, but she didn’t care. She wanted to say thank you and thought she knew how to do so. She disappeared for a moment into her bedroom and came out wearing a long brown leather coat, her hair pulled up tightly into a bun, and bright red stiletto style heels. She took a deep breath and made her way across the street, to where he spent all Saturday mornings of late, his garage.

She slipped in quietly through the side door and perched herself suggestively on the hood of the old car a task made difficult by the lack of light. Her coat lay open just enough to reveal the bare skin beneath it. She knew she had a body that most men would drool over, especially men married to woman who’d had kids and let themselves go. She’d ruined her fare share of marriages when she was younger, and felt little remorse for it. Unfortunately she’d spent little time developing any interpersonal skills that didn’t rely on her looks so when she wanted to thank a man for doing something nice, offering her self to him was all she could think to do.

She was nodding off to sleep when she heard the door to the garage creak open.

He slipped on his work shirt, a smock he’d bought to wear specifically when working on the car. He left it unbuttoned as his chest was still wet from the shower. He tossed on his boots and headed to the garage flipping on the light as he entered.

"what the h..", he caught himself before he yelled to loud and quietly slid into the garage closing the door to the house behind him. "What are you doing in my garage? And on my car? And dressed like that"? His face screwed up into mixture of shock and puzzlement.

"I wanted to thank you for all you did for me", She began to trace the line of her body with her finger. He needed to look away, but was unable to do so.

"Look lady", he said stiffly "I had nothing to do with what happened over there. Now get out of my garage". He’d found his nerve. He imagined the things that must have happened to this woman for her to go to such extreme lengths to show her appreciation.

"you don’t want me to go", she sat up and slid to the edge of the hood, now only a few feet from him "you know you don’t". Seduction was an art, and many men needed to be brought in slowly, carefully, or they would frighten and run off. He had that deer in the headlights look when he first saw her, she knew that look.

"In fact I do", he grabbed a wrench and pulled out the slider he used to get under the car. "I have work to do, and I’m married with kids. I’m going to tell you one more time, I had NOTHING to do with what happened to your boyfriend. Now go".

She studied him closely and saw that the deer had become something else. Not a predator, no he wasn’t hunting anything today. But neither would he fall to her charms.

"Whatever you say, big guy", she trailed off as she slid down from the car "but if you change your mind, you know where I am". She reached to grab him as she passed but he deftly turned her hand away.

"Go".

And she was gone. He couldn’t decide if he should tell his wife or not. "Ah well, better to work now, working always helps". He turned to his car and focused on what needed to be done. He hoped to have it fully operational within a year and felt like he was headed in the right direction. He climbed onto the dolly and slid himself under the car. He was working on replacing the catalytic converter when he felt a warm hand running up the inside of his leg.

"I told you to go away", he yelled as he shot out from under the car. To his surprise it was his wife standing there in her night dress with the most scorned look he thought he’d ever seen on her face.

"wha…I.." she stuttered as she tried to find the source of his anger.

"Oh, babe I’m sorry"! He lept to his feet and hugged her tightly. "I didn’t know it was you. The gal from across the street", he motioned with his head toward the garage door "she was in here this morning all laid out on the car. She was trying to
seduce me".

"Oh please, come off it. Just tell me why you are mad at me" she searched his face but couldn’t find even a trace of anger there now.

"Okay so here’s the deal". He lifted her up onto the hood of the car and explained about the night before. Told her about the guy being killed, the cop coming over and saying that she told him she thought he might have had something to do with it. He of course left out the part about The Other.

"Well that’s ridiculous! Why would she think you had something to do with it"? Her eyes darted back and forth across his face looking for some hint of something. She wasn’t sure what, infidelity maybe. That would explain why she was laid out on his car waiting for him.

"Apparently when I meditate I sort of sleep walk over to the bay window in the living room and spend a lot of time there. I didn’t know it until the cop told me she says I’m in the window all hours of the night watching over the neighborhood. That and she was completely lit on drugs or booze, or probably both". He held her with his gaze. His deep sincere eyes calmed her fears and he felt her relax under his finger tips.
"I can’t believe I didn’t wake. I always wake up when the cops show up over there with their sirens blazing". She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close. "I guess I’ve been getting much better sleep lately". She waved her eyebrows up and down and smiled before giving her husband a long passionate kiss.

"Hmm…well, that was nice. May I have another"? A kiss like that he thought, would always steal his breath from him. Even when they were old and wrinkled and near death, he couldn’t imagine the spark behind that kiss ever dying off or fading away again.

"Breakfast"?

"I don’t know, seems like we’re cooking right here".

"Pig", she laughed and slid out from between him and his car. "I’m making pancakes and sausage, wash up before you come in to eat" and she made her way back into the house with a smile as wide as the Potomac.