The Right Thing

The Right Thing.

It was late in the evening when the four stroke the first ball into the pocket of the expensive looking billard table.

"Anyone ready for mid-terms?" Asked Marcus, a young man with long brunett hair, styled like the male models he had seen in the magazines. His grey V-neck t-shirt was stretched tight across his thick chest.

Willy, the young nerd of the group snickered and adjusted his name brand, perscription glasses. "I know you guys aren't."

Jake, dressed in his usual button up black shirt and slacks that ran down to his flip-flops, ran his hand over his close shaved head. "I've got some guys working on my paper as we speak."

The Asian American, Steve, gave a smirk as he adjusted his overly large gold watch. "Seems like cheating to me."

Willy smacked a solid red ball into a corner pocket. "It isn't cheating, if you pay for their services."

Jake sipped from his bottle neck beer bottle. "The point is, I am ready for mid-terms."

As Steve gave a scoff, a loud bang was heard down stairs. The four looked at each other in confusion.

"What was that?" Marcus asked.

Jake shrugged. "I dunno, maybe something fell."

Willy nodded. "And we are going to just stand here like we didn't hear it?"

Jake gave a grin to Willy. "It might be that stupid maid we have."

Steve shook his head. "I didn't see her stumbling around earlier."

Jake gave a sigh and sat his beer down on the edge of the billard table. "I'll take a look." He grunted as his flip-flops flapped against his feet and left the large game room through the wooden swinging door.

Marcus looked down at the table. "Whose shot is it?"

Steve raised his left hand and readied his cue stick. "Mine."

As Steve aimed his stanze and stick towards his targeted ball, another loud banging sound was heard followed by a loud grunt.

Steve let his arm fly in and the tip of the stick missed the ball. "What the hell was that?"

Marcus looked at the swinging door and slowly walked over to it on his bare feet. "Jake! Man, you okay?!"

There was no answer. The three took turns looking at each other in both confusion and slight fear before a loud scream was heard from a male's vocal cords.

Marcus jumped back from the door with wide eyes. "What the...?"

Willy dropped his pull cue as his glasses slid down his nose. "Jake?!"

Steve, cue stick in hand, charged passed the frozen Marcus and pushed through the swinging door.

The next room was very large and tall. The door lead into the sitting room designed to look like it came from some British manor, only the appliances were modern along with four different game systems and an overly large flat panel television. This room was dark and the only light was from the half moon that gave light through the windows on the other side of the room.

Steve looked around the dark room, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. "Jake?!"

The lights in the room flickered on and Willy walked up behind Steve with a worried look on his face. "You're brave, stumbling into the darkness for your friend."

"Shut up man." Steve said, trying to listen for any other sounds.

Willy walked passed Steve to a large stair case that led downstairs. "Maybe he is down here? Jake!" As Willy called out, he turned on the lights that hung over the small hallway that followed the stairs.

The lights beamed down on the well polished stairs. Yet, as the lights exposed the stairs leading down into another dark room, Willy's eyes caught sight of large puddles of dark red liquid.

Steve soon joined behind Willy and followed his friend's gaze downward to the shimmering liquid. "Blood?"

Willy slowly shook his head, eyes still glued to the patches of red liquid. "No ... No way."

Careful not to step into the liquid, Steve and Willy walked down the stairs into a dark parlor that spread over the lower floor of the large house.

Steve frantically searched for a light switch on the wall next to him. Willy walked forward and pulled out his cell phone to shoot a dim blue light into the thick darkness surrounding them.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked, still searching for a light.

"Jake is just messing with us, man. Get over it." He forced a smile on his face. "We are not scared, Jacob!" He taunted. "Just jump out and get it over with."

The dark room lay still, like a tomb.

Willy swallowed hard. "Find that light switch yet?"

"I am trying."

As Willy flashed the light from his lit cell screen, he passed the dim blue beam over large antique looking furniture and well designed art pieces. He carefully walked over the large throw rug laying on the floor, trying to keep his steps quiet. Back and forth, Willy passed his dim light through the darkness until he stopped on a figure standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

The figure was short and small, like a ten year old boy. Covering the boy's torso was a large black hoodie and a pair of black skinny jeans sat on his thin legs. A pair of large, military like, boots sat on his feet. The boy's hands were held behind his back and he held his hood covered head down to a point that Willy could not see his face.

Willy stopped as he stared fearfully at the little figure. "Hell ... Hello?" He swallowed hard. "Shit." He whispered.

"What is it?!" Steve yelled.

"It's a ..." Willy started in a shaky voice.

As Willy tried to describe the boy in front of him, he stared in horror as the boy lifted his head and let out a shrill screetch! Willy opened his mouth wide and stumbled backwards. "Oh my God!"

Willy stumbled backwards and dropped his phone, his only source of light. He ran forward, but bumped right into an antique table. Quickly, Willy fell onto the dark floor, knocking his glasses off his face. The air ran out of his lungs as his stomach fell onto the floor with a loud thud.

Without warning, Willy felt someone jump onto his back! "No ... NO!" Willy screamed as a the sound of his shirt tearing filled the air!

Steve seized his search for the light and stared blankly into the darkness. "Willy?" He whispered as his friend screams sliced through the darkness. With fear beating his heart loudly, Steve stumbled up the stairs and into the lit sitting room. He passed through the room, his sneakers squeeked on the hard wood floor as he sped by. The young man slammed into the swinging door and landed on the floor.

"What the fuck is going on?" Marcus asked, standing in the corner of the room with a billard cue stick held over his chest for protection.

Steve struggled onto his thin legs. "I don't know ... I .. I ... Willy ..." Steve stammered and heaved.

Before the two could make any conclusion, the swinging door waved open only once and a round object flew through the air, slammed onto the floor and rolled next to Steve's feet.

Steve looked down at the object and leaped into the air. "Oh shit!"

It was the severed, bloody head of Jake, laying on the floor; blood ran out of the crudely cut neck and the dead man's face was twisted in horror among large scratches made into his flesh.

Marcus let out a cry as tears rolled down his cheeks. "What the fuck, man?!"

Steve leaned his back flat against the wall as his dark eyes stared down at the severed head of his friend. His lips quivered and sweat poured down his neck.

The lights began to flicker as the swinging door opened very slowly. Standing in the doorway was the little boy, head lowered, hands held behind his back and hood covering his head.

Marcus sniffed as drool ran down the corners of his mouth. "Go away!"

The boy slowly lifted his head and then ... The lights flickered off. The room was filled with nothing but total darkness. Steve and Marcus heaved and puffed.

Marcus sobbed. "Oh ... Shit."

A loud, screetch was sounded followed by the sound of flesh tearing and blood curdling screams! As swift as the terrible sounds occured, that stopped with the final gurgling coming from Steve's throat.

The lights flickered off and on once more.

Marcus was laying on a blood covered billard table. His face had been smashed in and his eyes were swollen out of his skull. His limp arms sat over the sides of the table and his own blood dripped from his finger tips.

Steve, half of his torso laid flat on the floor while the other half was missing. With his intestines dragging the floor and leaving a large trail of blood, Steve's upper half tried to crawl across the floor. Blood ran down the corners of his mouth as he coughed.

Standing before him was the little boy, arms folded behind him and head lowered. His head twitched quickly from side to side as Steve continued to crawl to his feet. He bent his knees and squatted down to look at Steve. His head continued to twitch and the sound of chirping escaped his hood covered face.

Steve looked up at the boy with rolling eyes. He tried to speak, but the only sound that came out was a clicking sound.

The boy twitched his head and reached into his hoodie front pocket. From the pocket, the boy pulled out a news paper clipping. The boy's hands were small, with long talons and covered with black feathers. The feathered hand held the paper clipping in front of Steve's rolling eyes.

The clipping held the black and white picture of a young girl, no older than sixteen. Beside her face were large bold letters: "Victim's Body Found Near River." Underneath were smaller bold printed letters: "Brother's Body Still Not Found."

The boy made a clicking sound as he twitched his head. "Sister." He said in a high pitch voice and made a chirping sound as he quickly shifted his head side to side. "Her last words were ... Do the right thing." He made a clicking sound and screetched. "She begged this of you ..."