[FLASH FICTION CRIME STORY] Come Out and Play With Me - exclusively written for #Steemit

merej99 (70)in #flashfiction • 8 years ago

Come Out and Play With me

Flash fiction crime story written exclusively for #Steemit

Note from author: This piece contains strong language. Sweet readers turn back while you have the chance.

The room was spinning again. Rick reached out to find the wall and lazily put one foot on the floor so he could find some semblance of stability in his booze-induced vertigo. The neon lights of the cheap motel blinked on and off as it short-cycled; the inconsistent flashing increasing the stabbing pain in his head.

*Damn, I have to piss," he thought as he scratched his groin and waited for the tilt-a-whirl feeling to ebb.
Cursing the cheap hooker for probably giving him the clap, and even cheaper tequila for the hangover, he finally had the fortitude to rise and stagger to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light.

"Come on, dammit!" He closed his eyes and cussed. "I don't have time for setting personal records," he thought, wondering how his bladder held that much fluid without bursting.

Shivering, he felt a sudden chill in the air. Cracking open an eye, he glanced into the cracked mirror to see his face strangely shadowed by the blinking motel lights - first darkness, then red; darkness, then blue; darkness...
He waited for the next color but it remained dark for a few clicks longer than usual. "Stupid light." But when it blinked red again, there was a reflection of a very tall man behind him.

"What the fu..."

He instinctively took a step back to turn around, pissing all over the place. "DAMMIT IT!"
Hangover gone, he felt the adrenaline rush with the heavy thud of his heartbeat, then laughed uneasily when he realized he was alone.

The lights short-cycled into darkness again.

"Come out and play, Rick."

He felt the small hairs on the back of his neck rise. The voice was so soft, it was barely audible.
"Who's there? Get the hell out of my house!" Well, it wasn't actually a house, it was a shit-hole on the 15th floor of a roach motel, but he's managed to keep it for almost a year. No, wait - it wasn't exactly a year to the day.

"Come on, Ricky. Don't be a pussy. Come out and play."

"Listen, you fuckin' joker, I've got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it!" Rick swung in the darkness and hit nothing but air, but the voice was too soft to be anywhere by right next to him.

"Riiii-ckyyyyy..."

The lights blinked blue and standing before him was a pale young man. He had the face of a 12-year old, and his frame was too tall and thin, as if someone had stretched him like play-doh. His eyes were empty sockets of pure darkness; his head crooked unnaturally to the side.

Rick tried to blink the image away and pass it off as a hallucination -- but it wasn't going away. In fact, the spectre gave him a crooked smile, exposing broken, rotting teeth.

"What do you want?" Rick asked, trying his best to remain calm.

"Come out and play with me, Ricky."

"I'm not in the mood to play, asshole. Why don't you go find someone else to play with?" Something in him triggered a memory, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it. For some reason, this thing looked familiar.

"Of course you remember me, Ricky. How could you forget?"

Rick felt the back of his throat get dry; his eyes widening. "Joey?" he whispered.

He saw it smile before the lights went dark again, followed by a hollow chuckle that sent more shivers down his back. "Time to play, Ricky. Ollie Ollie Oxen Freeeee..."

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and shook his head in disbelief. Joey was his childhood best friend. They were inseparable until... Until the day Joey died.

The lights blinked red and Joey was no longer tall and stretched, but the boy he remembered with a shock of blonde hair and round youthful face. He looked disappointed. "It's my birthday, Ricky. You didn't forget my birthday, did you?"

"Naw, man. Naw. I'll never forget, buddy." But it seemed like every day was Joey's frikken birthday because ever since that day, Rick has had nothing but a daily string of bad luck. The day Joey died, Rick's world was forever altered. He began to run around with the wrong crowd. Drugs, booze and loose girls were the only things he could do right. It's amazing he's lived another 20 years. "What do you want, man?" He was tired and honestly didn't want to deal with this shit. Not today. He was too damned tired.

"Come out and play, Ricky. I want to play keep away."

"Fuck off, Joey. It was an accident, man. You fell off the edge of that cliff."

The lights went dark again, and Rick cringed at the unholy sounds emanating from his long dead friend. In a blink of an eye, he was 12 again and back at Cliffside Manor, his childhood neighborhood.

From his standpoint, he watched the day pass by like time-lapse video. Birthday cake and balloons. Joey opening his presents and the feeling of awe and jealousy when he saw the Green Lantern ring. Playing tag turned into wrestling and Ricky got hold of that ring. He needed that ring!

Playing turned into a heated exchange of keep away - but Joey wasn't in the mood to share and he wanted his ring back. But Ricky wasn't ready to give it back. It fit just fine on his finger. In fact, he didn't want to give it back...ever.

Joey might have been pissed but Rick was stronger. It was so easy to push him. He remembered feeling wonder when he saw his friend fly off the edge; his eyes wide with shock as he fell away and down...down to the boulder-riddled bottom of the cliffs. He remembered watching his friend bounce and flail before settling quietly, as if he was sunbathing. He saw the blood color the stones and knew Joey was dead.

"Then what did you do?"

"I pocketed the fucking ring and told my mom you fell."

"How many others had accidents have there been, Ricky?"

"I don't know, man. I lost count." He bristled when it felt like a cold breeze passed through him. "All right, 18! 19 if we're counting you, okay? You fuckin' happy, man? I didn't mean to do it! I just couldn't help myself. I don't know what's fucking wrong with me, man!"

Tall, ghostly Joey was back, his hollowed-out eye sockets and grimace directed at him. *"And tonight is going to be 20...to celebrate my birthday, right Ricky?

"Yeah, man. Who're we gonna play with this year?"

Joey smiled. "You."

The sound of shattering glass erupted as Rick had the sensation of flying. He felt the wind pushing at him, but gravity was stronger. Spreading his arms wide, he waited to impact...and never felt the pain of his bones cracking and splitting from hitting the sidewalk.

When the cops searched his room searching for identification to call the next of kin, they found an old travel trunk. Breaking the lock, they found 20 Green Lantern rings and nothing else inside it beyond a birthday card addressed to Joey.

Detective James felt a very strong and sudden compulsion and pocketed one of the rings before anyone saw him do it. No sooner was it in his possession that a rookie officers shook his hand. "Holy shit, detective. I think you were right! We finally got the Cliffside serial killer."

He agreed with a silent nod of his head. "Make sure you log all this shit," he ordered. He felt the warmth of the ring in his pocket and covertly checked that it was safely tucked away. With a smile he announced he was going off shift. "It's time to play..."