Catharsis of the Bogue » fiction

Fiction Saturday 3: The Man in the Hazy Suit Part 9

Justin Matthews — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 15:27:17 +0000

** sorry about the earlier confusion, the story got jumbled and tied up in word. fixed now!**

Hey folks Here is the next chapter in the story! I hope you are still entertained and interested!

Previously in the Man in the Hazy Suit:

Police detective Thompson was wrapping up a crime scene when he found a scrap of paper in the dead man’s posessions. The paper led him to the bus station and a locker that was filled with legal pads, all written by the deceased man. Sergeant Thompson is currently reading the legal pads which are spelling out a strange narrative and a chronicle of a serial killers murders, that somehow the man writing the story knows before they happen, if only by moments. So far our writer has witnessed several deaths with apparently more to come. Strange coincidences surround the narrator having to do with the Man in the Hazy Suit, leading to paranoia and a wonder as to the outcome of his sanity. Currently, he thinks he may have the drop on the Man in the Hazy Suit.

When we left our story last time:

There was basically a tent in the middle of the library. All lined with dark silk and flashing neon lights. People moved in a stupor inside the tent, all in various states of undress. An orgy in the library, and, as I circled the large bed, I saw a gas can on the floor beside it.

The man was here somewhere. I wasn’t going to let him burn anything down today. I grabbed the gas can and ran to the other end of the floor trying to get away. I nearly made it too, but as I rounded the corner to the elevator, The Man in the Hazy Suit stood there.

And today we join our story With Sergeant Tomson, already in progress:

My cell phone rang, frightening me to the point of dropping the notepad that I was reading from. “Sergeant Tomson.” I answered recovering. “Tomson!” It was the Chief. “What in the Hell do you think you are doing not getting that gas can guy in the crematorium as soon as possible?” He was mad and I guess he had a right to be.

I was supposed to have made the arrangements for his cremation before I left yesterday. Instead I had found this essay. I had been reading for hours. “Chief, “ I said. “I have a new lead on that case.” “Why do we need a new lead on that? We solved it, we are finished!” He yelled at me.

“Just listen Chief.” I said and proceeded to tell him about the clue in the killers pocket, the trip to the bus station, the notebooks, the disturbing revelations within. By the time I had described all of the murders and arsons committed, the Chief was impressed. “Hmmm.” He started, “ok then, see how many of these things you can get solved. Call me back.” “Sure thing Chief.” I said. “It seems to be winding down now.” I hung up the phone and picked up the notepad that I had dropped.

There was only one notepad left after the one I was on. I was eager to get back to the revelations but basic hygiene was needed. I had been sitting in that chair for 2 days now, reading, eating and sleeping. And I smelled like it.

Later, after I was presentable again, I started back with the notepad and its dark tales.

He was looking downward, leaning one hand against the wall as I approached. He turned his head slightly up and looked askance at me. He smiled a small, knowing smile as he looked at me; his eyes boring holes into my soul.

He straightened, never losing his smile. As he stood there, I was drawn to him, pulled by some unseen force, unbidden by me, yet unstoppable. I was floating towards the Man in the Hazy Suit, and as I got closer, he became…clearer.

The haziness lessened and cleared as I got nearer. As I realized this, my head began to spin and suddenly I could not see the man any more. Yet I felt…different. I looked down my body at the Hazy Suit that was now on me.

I looked at the gas can in my hand and twitched as I began to pour the pungent fluid on the floor. Memories flooded in. Realization hit me like a .45 slug in the forehead. I was the man in the Hazy Suit. I was the one responsible for all of that unpleasantness.

That was why I could not stop the man. That is why he would not listen to me. He is me. I could feel him then, inside my head with me, crowding me into one of the dark recesses there. He took great pleasure lighting a match that he produced from his suit and tossing it to the pool of gasoline on the floor of the library.

He turned us calmly and pushed the elevator button. The car came and the door opened. We stepped inside and began the descent to the ground floor as the 5^th floor burned and those who had been in throes of ecstasy only moments before now screamed in horror and pain.

I tried to gain some sort of control over my body. I tried to scream at the other entity in my head but this body was committed only to him. Things made sense, but now, instead of the dream state, I was trapped. Trapped and no one could do anything about it.

Join us again next week for more of The Man in the Hazy Suit!

-Justin

Fiction Saturday 3! The Man in the Hazy Suit Part 8

Justin Matthews — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 21:05:17 +0000

Hey folks Here is the next chapter in the story! I hope you are still entertained and interested!

Previously in the Man in the Hazy Suit:

When we left our story last time:

I sat up shaking yet again. I tried to assimilate what I had just seen. I got up and went to the radio on the floor in the hall. It had been placed back on the shelf and on top of it were a set of lockpicks. I screamed and ran for the front door. I almost made it, but a miscalculation caused me to slip and hit my head rather solidly on the counter, leaving a nasty gash for my trouble.

I woke up in a small pool of blood on the kitchen floor sometime later. The angle of the sun said late afternoon. I scooted to a corner in the kitchen and huddled in on myself, scared to look further into this strange Man in an even stranger Hazy Suit.

And today we join our story already in progress:

Finally I fell asleep huddling in the corner of the kitchen. Passed out is more like it. I began to have another confounded dream. I hoped that this one would be the simple, flying in a field of clover or falling off of a cliff, or well, anything that didn’t have to do with a man in a Hazy Suit.

It began in the library at the college again. Night had fallen. Finals were only a few weeks away so the library was open all night. I was wandering through the study tables by myself thankfully. Faces of people that I knew flashed in and out of the small circles of light given off by the reading lamps.

I wandered aimlessly for a while, overhearing snippets of conversations that I couldn’t remember 5 seconds later, until one caught my attention. There was a party going on up on the 5^th floor. I decided to check it out. Only seconds later I was walking out of the elevator and into a party of loud music and flashing lights. There was no studying going on here.

I smiled and began to wander the floor. I moved through people dancing very inappropriately and those trying not to vomit on themselves. I flowed from one spot to the next with a grace that I had never possessed in real life. I looked down at myself and blinked at my stylish clothes. I didn’t even own a pair of khaki pants or a blue striped shirt.

I could hear and see everyone but no one acknowledged me. I knew it was a dream but I was still excited to be part of the party. I made my way to the center of the room and around the temporary walls that they had erected.

Join us again next week for more of The Man in the Hazy Suit!

-Justin

Fiction Saturday 3! The Man in the Hazy Suit part 7

Justin Matthews — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 12:27:51 +0000

hey Folks here is the promised Hazy Suit for this week! It is rather long because I have been lazy and busy and missed a couple. Please let me know what you think of the story and how it is going, the comments are open and waiting for your sage wisdom!

Without further adeiu:

Previously in the Man in the Hazy Suit:

Police detective Thompson was wrapping up a crime scene when he found a scrap of paper in the dead man’s posessions. The paper led him to the bus station and a locker that was filled with legal pads, all written by the deceased man. Sergeant Thompson is currently reading the legal pads which are spelling out a strange narrative and a chronicle of a serial killers murders, that somehow the man writing the story knows before they happen, if only by moments. So far our writer has witnessed 3 deaths with apparently more to come. With another murder looming, The dead mans narrative comes back around to Detective Thompson. Nothing had happened on the call. Later, the man writing the story described a house going up in flames, and with it another murder.

When we left our story last time:

He walked casually off of the front porch and down towards the sidewalk, adjusting his fedora. Then there was a, well, a fwump sound and Mr. Stevens house started on fire. I tried to scream but it wouldn’t come out. A few minutes later I woke up in my apartment screaming.

I sat up an flicked on the light. I could smell gas again. And there was a black fedora on the chair across the room. I didn’t own a fedora. I began to scream again knowing the Man in the Hazy Suit had to have been here.

Now we join our story already in progress:

The next few days were as hazy as the suit that the man was wearing. I didn’t have vivid or specific dreams of the man, but there were dreams. I felt like I was flying along with him while he preformed his despicable deeds. I was being dragged in his wake and I couldn’t get out of it.

Every day I would call the police , every day they would laugh at me and hang up. Every day someone would die the same way. Beaten and then burned. I couldn’t sleep well. I didn’t eat well. I lost my job at the Bagel Hut and then at the Taco Barn. My landlord was freaking out about the rent. My whole life was going to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

I still had school though, at least for the rest of the semester. I went to my classes in a daze and somehow found just enough brainpower to not flunk out. I even managed to talk to Faith Harper a couple of times. That brought its own weirdness.

She told me that the phone I had given her started to make funny sounds, like someone was listening in on her conversations. She had taken the phone to the repair shop and they had found a strange piece of equipment inside, something that looked like a bug from the CIA. I told her how strange that was and blew it off as we parted.

After she left, I couldn’t help but remember the radio in the hallway at my apartment and the way it was not quite right. I went home and pulled it off of the shelf and onto the floor. As I did, the back fell off and there was a small silver box pushed inside the case. I knew then what hadn’t been right about the radio. There was light coming from not only the front where it should have, but the back as well. Just a small halo where the cover was not quite secured.

I reached in for the silver box and pulled it out. It was attached to the inside board of the radio by 2 alligator clips. The box itself was not remarkable. About the size of a 3 by 5 index card and as thick as a deck of cards with one black on/off switch on the side. I had never seen this box before but it tickled another memory in my head.

I turned the radio on and got the same static I did the other morning. I then took a deep breath and flipped the switch on the silver box. A conversation immediately came in over the radio. I turned the tuner a few times and heard several conversations. One of those sounded like a repair shop. Had I found the shop that Faith had taken her phone to?

I didn’t know but decided to keep it to myself. This was possibly a piece of evidence against the Man in the Hazy Suit, but my fingerprints were all over it now. I didn’t want to be attached to him any more than I already was. The cops were somewhat suspicious with my knowledge even if they did laugh at me most of the time.

I left the radio on the floor and fell into my bed, exhausted. I dreamed again of the Man. He was wandering around a neighborhood that I knew well. It was Faith’s. He walked confident as ever, his suit as Hazy as ever, but he was missing his gas can. Maybe tonight no one would die. I could only hope that was the case.

I tried to scream at the Man or stop him from walking up to Faith’s house. I tried to tackle him or kick at him but I never seemed to be able to get close enough. The lights were off in the house as he approached. The street was quiet, no cars had passed since we arrived. Very few lights were on up and down the street.

The Man in the Hazy Suit stood on Faith Harper’s doorstep with a set of lockpicks in his hand. He made quick work of the door and was inside listening in the dark. No alarm, no dog, no sound but the ticking of the grandfather clock and my pounding heart.

The Man slowly made his way up the stairs and to the right, where I knew that Faith’s bedroom was located. I screamed and ranted to get him to stop, to leave Faith alone. He finally turned and put his index finger to his lips telling me to be quiet. I kept railing against him, trying to do…something.

He reached a door that I knew held a sleeping Faith Harper behind it. Callous and arrogantly he opened the door. I could see the sleeping Faith on her bed by the window, but it wasn’t to her that the Man went. He stopped at the small table just inside the door and picked up the phone I had given her.

He produced a small screwdriver and proceeded to take the bottom off of the phone. He then took a small plastic bag from his pocket and removed the contents. It held a small electronic chip which he placed in the phone and screwed the bottom back on. He had rebugged Faith’s phone. He then left the house as sneakily as he had entered.

Join us again next week for more of The Man in the Hazy Suit!

-Justin

Fiction Saturday 3! The Man in the Hazy Suit Part 6!

Justin Matthews — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 12:00:45 +0000

Previously in the Man in the Hazy Suit:

Police detective Thompson was wrapping up a crime scene when he found a scrap of paper in the dead man’s posessions. The paper led him to the bus station and a locker that was filled with legal pads, all written by the deceased man. Sergeant Thompson is currently reading the legal pads which are spelling out a strange narrative and a chronicle of a serial killers murders, that somehow the man writing the story knows before they happen, if only by moments. So far our writer has witnessed 3 deaths with apparently more to come. With another murder looming, The dead mans narrative comes back around to Detective Thompson.

When we left our story last time:

The Man in the Hazy Suit watched the two girls with the same detached indifference that he showed on this street before. He stood stock still, his head slightly cocked to the right, showing me an almost profile of his face. His old fashioned fedora sat on his head, pulled lower over his eyes, as if he were in a strong wind and didn’t want it to fall off.

He turned a bit more to the right and winked at me. I had a bad feeling he had chosen someone else that I would see on the news. He grinned and began to walk down the street, leaving the girls behind. I woke up in a panic. I knew these girls and maybe I could stop what was going to happen.

I ran to my kitchen, barely noting the open front door and found the business cards for the two cops that had visited me a few days earlier. I dialed the number on the card and asked for Patrolman Thompson. I was going to prevent these murders.

Now we join our story already in progress:

I dropped the notebook. I remembered that call. A hysterical young man saying he knew a couple of girls that would be killed in the next few minutes. I thought he was crazy, but I still had to check it out. He had given me the address of an auto parts store not too far from where a couple of college kids were killed a few days ago. We checked but there were no girls there.

I called him back and he was very insistent. He had told me their names and where one of them lived. We checked and they were both fine. I remember telling the kid later at his house that it was just a bad dream from watching the news. He had nodded, not looking very convinced. That was the end of it. I drank some of my now cold coffee and picked up the notebook again.

The police were not much help. I think they were just patronizing me. I knew something was going to happen to January and Faith but I didn’t know a way to prevent it. I called Faith the next night. She answered but blew me off. I had told her that she was in danger and she should stay at home for a few days, and away from the auto parts store.

She scoffed at me and told me I was being paranoid, after all, why would she ever be at an auto parts store? And without my even asking, she said she was not going to go out with me. I felt really rejected. She had hung up on me and I could imagine the disgusted look on her face. I guessed that she would never go out with me now.

I stared at the phone for a good ten minutes before muttering an explicative and turning off the light, heading back to sleep. The Bagel Hut called the next morning at 7:30. I had overslept. I told them I would be there shortly and stumbled out of bed towards the bathroom, thankful I had slept without another dream.

I flipped on the radio on the way to the bathroom to hear some morning banter between the local DJ’s. All I got was some static and muffled voices. I looked at the radio. There was something not quite right about it but my still sleeping brain could not decipher what it was. I turned the dial and finally got some music. I then went and got ready for work.

All of that day at work I had a hard time concentrating. I would get orders for customers but always in the back of my mind, something…tickled about the radio. I couldn’t remember playing with the knobs. But I must have. I just couldn’t place what was wrong.

I tried not to think about it but it wouldn’t go away. I knew I was distracted and so did my boss. He kept asking me if I was ok. I kept telling him yes, that I wasn’t sleeping well but he just kept pestering me. I was very annoyed by the end of the day. I drove home with the remembered smell of gasoline in my nostrils. That was really strange.

I made it back to my apartment just in time to change into my Taco Barn uniform and get to work over there. I didn’t really want to go in that night, but my landlord didn’t care about my moods, just the rent on time. I got changed and looked at the radio again on my way out.

Something still not right, but I couldn’t figure out what. The Taco Barn was a zoo on that Friday night and I didn’t have time to wonder about the radio. I was actually working rather well this shift. I left after closing that night and my boss there told me I had been better today than in the past few weeks. I thanked him and headed home to bed and, hopefully, another dreamless sleep.

I wasn’t that lucky. I knew I was asleep but I was in the hazy world again. This time I was walking fast, heading towards a small house on what must have been the other side of town. I couldn’t see the Man in the Hazy Suit. But I could feel him. He was near, and plotting something lethal.

The scene changed then, in no more than a blink, the Man in the Hazy Suit was walking next to me. Long coat flapping in our haste, gas can clutched firmly in his right hand. I stopped. He slowed but kept going, eventually looking over his shoulder at me and gesturing with his head that I was to follow. I tried to call out but found that I couldn’t speak. All I could do was chase after him. Maybe I could tackle him and make him stop whatever terrible thing he was plotting.

I thought I was keeping him in sight until I turned the next corner and saw him knocking on the door of a house in the middle of the street. The lights came on in the house and on the porch. The Man in the Hazy Suit looked at me and grinned as Mr. Stevens, my boss from the Bagel Hut opened the door and got a length of pipe in the forehead for his trouble.

I tried to throw up but it did no good. This was still a dream. I took a few more steps forward, trying to wake myself up but I couldn’t. I got closer and could smell gas. A moment later the Man in the Hazy Suit stepped out of the door and closed it behind him. He was missing his gas can and the pipe.

Join us again next week for more of The Man in the Hazy Suit!

-Justin

Supernatural! A video tribute

Justin Matthews — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 07:06:55 +0000

hey guys hope you had a good weekend. Today, something short. If you haven’t seen the TV show Supernatural you are missing out. It has become my favorite show on tv for the last 5 years. Go check out the DVD’s, they are great!

They are also filled with Classic Rock, something I truly love. Kansas has this amazing song form the ’70′s called Carry on my Wayward Son. They use it quite a bit in the series, and this video was made by a fan with some of the best parts of the series to that song. Enjoy! and yes, I have owned this album LOOOOONG before Supernatural even came out. Kansas came to Salt Lake Community College once…I blew off Philosophy for them. Did the same for 3 Dog Night later that same year. Anyway, the video:

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