The snow began to fall, hard as the writer drove his family to their winter destination, the roads were winding and the wind wailed.

The snow began to accumulate on the road. Soon the roads would be undriveable, that stressed the writer out, but thankfully they would be there soon.

Soon the writer wouldn’t have to worry about the roads, and well needed rest and relaxation was close.
It was the perfect retreat for a writer, and he couldn’t wait to relax and have a drink.

Unbeknownst to him, the caretaker of the house cut the beer taps and his promised cable TV.

Without TV, it was quiet.

Annoyed without his daily medicine of beer and TV.

Everything was pronounced louder.

–The slightest turn of a doorknob.

–The old rusty elevator, its malfunctioning door and its dystonic bell would ring haphazardly and without warning at all hours and at different times.

–The sounds of his families’ footsteps.

–Even the slightest chop of a butcher knife cutting into meat for an afternoon snack.

–Each time the knife hit the cutting board it cut into his precious solitude.

All these noises surrounded him, complemented by an unseasonal lightning storm.

The writer sat at his typewriter, but without his drink he couldn’t produce a sentence.

He typed two words and went for a walk in hopes of finding something to calm his aching mind.

Luckily there was a bar, with a lonely bartender at the helm.

The bartender seemed friendly enough, but there was something eerie about his scoliotic structure, his limp-tired arms clinging on to a glass mug in one hand and a dirty grey washcloth in the other.

The writer felt like he had known him for years, like he had many experiences with him in the past, like they knew each other from somewhere.

He asked the bartender for a drink, but the bartender would not budge, he had conditions for the writer.

“Ice your family, I’ll give you a beer.”

While in another part of the deserted mansion the writer’s son encountered the groundskeeper of this decadent place and could sense everything the groundskeeper was thinking.

The groundskeeper sensed this and together the boy and him made an agreement.

The boy could read the groundskeeper’s mind but not between 5 and 6:00.

That was Willie’s time.

With the agreement made the boy would go on his way, sensing danger.

The writer however had a different dilemma altogether.

He agreed that he would do what he had to do, he would kill his family to appease the bartender.

The wife of the writer finished up in the kitchen and went to the writer’s study, to give him his sandwich and try and comfort him. She knew he wasn’t well, and that the lack of TV and beer was making him something, something, but she needed proof.

Maybe his writing will give me a glimpse into his madness.

“feeling fine.”

Well, that was a relief she thought. But when the lighting struck again it illuminated the room and written all over the walls was an eerie message, she had the proof she needed.

Suddenly with another lighting crash, the writer appeared in the room, he asked her what he thought of his writing he was thinking of calling it.

“No TV, No Beer makes me something, something…”

She repeated the message that was splayed all over the walls.

“Go crazy?” she suggested hesitantly.

He finally snapped.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Frightened she broke the glass next to her that enclosed a bat “for spousal insanity” it read.

Armed with the bat, she fled the writer’s study, and he chased her down the halls of the deserted mansion.

Sensing the end, she ran gathering her son and her daughter frantically hoping to free herself of her enraged husband.

He followed her outside where the groundskeeper tended to what appeared to be a garden maze of frosted hedges.

Not much time passed before they were all lost in the hedges, and the snow continued to fall unrelenting en masse.

Huddles together for warmth, the family froze to death.

While the storm intensified and the scene eventually faded to black.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.