Jamie Casper~Short Story

The engine riveted like a howling demon as I clenched the steering wheel. Quite possibly intoxicated, the little demon on my shoulder stamped his trident as he persuaded my foot further on the gas. The adrenaline spike got the best of me as sweat slowly trickled down my chin, but I refused to give in to the possible danger that sat in the backseat like the reaper himself. In an isolated forest road, at the black of the night, this was the only time for me… Me the average Joe, the person next door, the nobody to finally be different and express my emotions. As I slowly accelerated, my vision started to fade. My eyes shutting from the absence of sleep and the sway of the alcohol, in a frantic realization I opened my eyes. “CRASH!”. “AAAAAAAAH” I shouted, panting feverishly, my heart racing only to find myself in the soothing comfort of my bed.

Still drenched in sweat, I knelt on the floor to compose myself. Once I realized reality, my steps for the day became clear. An ordinary day, a day where someone like me would further cement myself as a nobody in society, just that loner who works the 9-5. At this rate, my dog even seemed to ignore me as he didn’t even bother to greet me after I laid out food for him. The calendar stared at me, the date 31st of October, a Saturday morning. Before heading outside to town square like usual, I glanced at my phone. “No new messages”. I sighed in defeat. I grabbed my bag and headed for the outside world.

I took a forced step onto the overgrown lawn as the grass dew tickled my skin. I glanced up to see my neighbors heavily engaged in their own conversations. “Good morning” I shouted. They pretended not to hear. No “Hi Jamie Casper, how’s your day been”, just fake ignorance. No one cared about me, ever since I was born into a family of three, I was the least favorite. The shadow of my older brother and the dollar store version of my little brother. My scruffy hair and pale skin, my average athleticism and average intelligence, and average everything. I was poisoned by the conventions of society, I am the victim of fitting in. I fit in so much that no one feels my presence. I am practically a ghost in society, there is nothing interesting about me, nor is there anything explicitly bad. Last in sport class, last pick in life. “Whatever,” I thought as I walked towards the market.

I arrived at the market and threw myself on the public bench, tired of exhaustion I looked around, In awe of the people that were recognized, popular, and made a difference. While I grumbled about personal problems on a sub-par to the average bench. Before I could continue my rant, I felt dampness from the bench. I looked down to see blood stains stretching across the bench transforming the wood into velvet. The rusted iron aroma of blood made its way into my nose as I felt the blood caress my hand. Startled. Confused. No word could describe my emotions. I snapped my neck refusing to believe my eyes. Then I saw it, the river flowing from the alleyway. A river of blood, I blinked to see a lifeless corpse before me, with eyes of no emotion, a body stripped of its soul waiting to rot like spoilt food. A man with a stab wound deep into his back. I rubbed my eyes, paralyzed in terror. But the remaining sense in my brain told me it was just a hoax played on my mind. Further shocked in disbelief I turned and ran, in accordance with my primal instincts.

When I turned around, it was gone, the corpse was gone. In a desperate attempt to calm myself, I treaded towards a local wall painting that always seemed to calm myself. On the way I met a rather peculiar man, in and old-fashioned suit paired with a glistening monocle. I gave a sly smile and commented “nice Halloween costume” he proceeded to look at me with a confused expression. As I passed him, I noticed a odd hole piercing through the fabric of his coat. I ignored it as I was slowly loosing the bare to live in this senseless world.

I finally arrived at the artwork, it’s vivid dark colours capturing my attention. The abstract tones of grey and black unifying to symbolise the anonymity of people like me. But, I am no art connoisseur and my foolish interpretations might as well be complete bogus. This artwork made me realise that I was better off dead, “no one notices me now anyway”. I thought. Right in that moment I turned to my left to see a lady. Brown hair flowing like silk, pale skin with an ocean in her eyes.

“Its quite nice isn’t it” she exclaimed

“Yeah, it is” I replied

“Sarah Walker by the way”

“Jamie Casper, nice to meet you”

The two struck up a conversation, it was almost as if they were in the same-wavelength, they made a relationship through the similarity of their problems in this imperfect world. Jamie, finally feeling like he met someone that connected with him, went home in satisfaction.

Upon arriving home, he felt a sense of relief. But something wasn’t right, this seemingly ordinary day seemed not so ordinary. Oh well, was my immediate reaction. I chucked in the tele as the lights flickered and broadcasted today’s news. Drinking a glass of water, I hade one hear open in anticipation. “Breaking news, local painter Sarah Walker died 2 days ago after being held at gunpoint in a commencing robbery”.

I dropped my glass…

After waiting out the ominous silence after the shatter of the glass, I scrambled for answers. Did I just talk to….talk to a gho- . I couldn’t do it. I decided that this mirage of hallucinations was getting out of hand. I needed to see a doctor. I ran outside gasping for fresh air. There was a letter. A black one at that, I opened it and started reading. “We invite you to join us to commemorate a great man, In memory of Jamie Casp-“

The TV continued, “A 32 year old man was found in the Black Forrest woods…

By Gabe