It was all fun and games until we ran into a cannibal.
Let me back the story up for you. Back to the 90’s. When times were simpler. Or so we thought.
My friends and I were generally good kids. We never did drugs. We didn’t go to wild parties. None of us were sexually active. We even went to class most of the time and got decent grades. We came from good to do families. We were going to grow up to become successful people. And most of us did.
However, we did cause some mischief in our small town. Our idea of fun was called, and please excuse my language, Nigger knocking. For those who do not know what this game is, it’s when kids run up to a house, knock on the door and run away before the person living in the house opens it. A politer term would be, ding-dong-ditch.
It’s a stupid game that immature kids play on grownups. The idea was to knock on the door, run in the bushes and watch the grownup look around with a confused face. It was great. We would drive around our town doing it all the time.
Then one night we took the game a little far. We decided that we really wanted to scare people. Fuck with their minds. Make them piss their selves.
It was Halloween night. Most kids our age would dress up and go to parties. Look at hot chicks dressed like slutty nurses. Fail at trying to have sex with them, then go home and masturbate. Instead of doing the former like most of our classmates, we decided to head to the local Walmart and pick up some scary masks. My mask was a clown with blood on its teeth. It was awfully scary, especially if you were afraid of clowns.
Instead of knocking on the doors that night, we decided to really scare people. We were going to kick open their doors and scare them with our masks. Scream bloody murder, throw rotten eggs and watch them freak out.
I know, it was a stupid thing to do. We got the idea one night when I went to go knock on someone’s door. I ran up to the house then took both of my fists and pounded on the door. I slammed my fists on the door as hard as I could and boom, the door flies open. Inside of the house was an old lady sitting on her couch. You should have seen her reaction. She damn neared had a heart attack.
We drove around town in a beat up old car looking for a perfect house to target. The first house we hit was an old farmhouse on a lone dirt road. We saw a 20 something year old couple sitting on their couch watching the movie Halloween. It was perfect. The girl looked scared with her face buried in her boyfriend’s chest.
My friend Justin was driving the car and didn’t want to partake in kicking their door down. He waited a quarter mile down the road while me and my friend Alex ran down the road with our masks on. Alex’s mask was of a scary looking zombie.
When we got to the house we listened outside of the door. We could hear the couple talking but couldn’t make out any words. We counted to three then, boom! We kicked open their door, screaming bloody murder.
The girlfriend screamed so hard it kind of scared me. The boyfriend jumped and threw his glass of water across the room in shock. We then peppered them with rotten eggs and ran like hell back to Justin’s truck.
It was one of the greatest feelings in the world. We scared the living shit out of that couple. I’m sure the cops were called on us, but we continued to hit house after house.
We must have hit nine or ten houses that night. Justin had a police scanner in his car and we listened to all the calls coming from us. We were going to call it quits before we got caught but decided to hit one more house.
The house sat on a dirt road a few miles away from town. I don’t think I’ve ever been on the road before besides that night. The road had an eerie feeling to it. Tall oak trees covered the top of the road like a dark lonesome tunnel. Crows perched on the oak trees cawing. It was late at night and clouds covered the moon.
We saw the house we were going to hit. It sat at the end of the dead-end road. Justin decided he wanted to join us on this last house. We parked his car a quarter mile or so down the road and began making our way up to the house.
When we got to the house we almost turned around. It looked like no one was home. I wish we would have turned around. But we decided to do it anyway.
We creeped up the squeaky steps of the silent house. When we were almost at the top a light turned on. We freaked out and jumped in the bushes outside of the house. I thought they saw us and I began to panic. After about ten minutes of hiding in the bushes no one came out. It was time. Time to kick this door open and pepper them with the last of our eggs.
When we got to the door we listened for noise. The light inside of the house was still on. We heard something that sounded like a gurgling. Like someone was eating something. On three we kicked the door open.
The door flew open and we screamed. Alex and Justin threw eggs right away without really looking around the house. We were screaming and shouting like usual. But what we saw in the house changed the game.
The door we kicked open lead right into the kitchen. On the island counter in the middle of the kitchen was a man hunched over eating. He had greasy, black hair that covered his face. He was dirty. Covered in blood up to the middle of his arms. What shocked us was what he was eating.
On the counter was a dead baby. Its belly was torn open wide. Guts hung out of the stomach. Broken ribs stood up in the air. The limbs were grey and lifeless. The head was cocked back at us, it’s dead eyes staring at us.
We stopped in our tracks. Our hearts dropped to the floor. Then the man looked up at us.
He had deathly, evil eyes. There was blood all over his face. In his right hand as a sharp knife. His left hand-held intestines. He stared at us. Locked us down like he was a hunter.
“Fuck…”, Alex said under his breath.
“Run”, I screamed.
We booked it out of the house as fast as we could. Did not stop running until we got back to Justin’s car. Then we sped out of there back to the safety of my parent’s basement.
We had no idea what to do. We couldn’t call the cops and tell them what happened. They would know that we were the ones breaking into houses that night. Justin had a full ride to a good college next year and couldn’t risk that. Alex was planning on joining the armed forces and didn’t want to jeopardize his admittance. I didn’t want to go to jail. And I definitely didn’t want my parents to find out.
So, we made a pact that night. To never speak of this again. To not tell anyone about the man we saw. To never bring it up even within our group of friends. And that is what we did.
We went to school the next day like nothing ever happened. News around town was focused on the break-ins on Halloween night.
Third period was English class. Justin, Alex and me all had that class. When we got to the class that day we had a substitute teacher. The sub told us that Mrs. Jones was absent because her baby was missing. When she got back from the store last night she found out her door house was broken into. Nothing was missing besides her baby.
Cops never found out what happened to the baby. But we all know what happened.
Every time I see a missing kid on a milk carton I think back to that Halloween. To the man we saw. To the horrid scene that changed my life. I wake up in the middle of the night with terrors and visions of that man. I hope to God he isn’t still out there.