Reflection (Short story by yours truly)

Good morning, House of Madness dwellers:

Today I thought I'd mix things up a bit, and share a short story with you directly from my brain. I really, really hope you enjoy it.

Reflection

"GO AWAY!!!!!" Kaspen Willis yelled at the front door from the top stair landing. "YOU DON'T SCARE ME, SO JUST GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!!" he screamed into the darkness below. Today marks the 273rd consecutive night that someone has beckoned Kas at 3am, and it's been more than half of those since he's bothered answering the door. Each night the bell rings, and each night he's greeted with nothing but empty silence. It's gotten so bad, that Kas receives food deliveries twice a week, always a Tuesday and Saturday, always at 11am sharp, and always by the same delivery person named Toby. One time that wretched grocery store tried sending someone else in Toby's place, claiming he was sick and had no choice if Kas were to receive his goods, and he simply sent the delivery boy back where he came from, groceries and all, with nothing more than a good scalding for a tip. The nerve of some people.

It all started about a year ago, just a day as regular as the last which consisted of getting up, showering, having a quick slice of buttered toast chased with bad instant coffee, and heading out the door for work. Then he heard it. At first it just sounded like the wind rustling, but as Kas stood paralyzed in his tracks, he could make out a whisper seemingly coming directly over his left shoulder.  "Kaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssppppppppppppeeeeeeeen". "Who's there!?" he shouted, which was met with an almost silent murmur of sinister sounding whispers he couldn't comprehend. Suddenly, his briefcase was knocked out of his hand, and an invisible force pushed him to the ground. "Kaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssspppppppppppeeeeeeeennnn" the voice whispered again, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Kas got up, checked his surroundings, and bolted for his front door which was the only thing standing between him and safety, and he didn't look back for fear of what he might see. He didn't even retrieve his briefcase, which still lingers on the front lawn where he left it, covered by grass tall enough to satisfy the hungriest of lawn mowers, yet Kas is not interested in venturing beyond his front door ever again. 

Inside the safety of his home, and with the permission of his boss Mr. Langenkamp, Kas felt free and relaxed, and although the lurking madness outside made him uneasy, he found it easy to cope knowing his inner sanctuary was impenetrable to evil. Still, every night at 3am the doorbell would ring, and Kas would wander onto the landing; not quite brave enough to confront the darkness anymore, yet not so cowardly as to ignore it altogether. One day he'll have to face whatever is desperately trying to haunt him once and for all, and Kas has decided that night is tomorrow. For tonight he will sling his insults, profanities, and objections into the early morning air of his house, knowing that tomorrow this curse will end, and he will stake his claim on life no matter who walks away the victor.

At 7am, Kas is feeling nervous, but has no plans on backing down from his decision to go through with his acuminous plan of courageous foray; one way or another, this all ends tonight.

At 3pm Kas is enjoying (not really) his 7th cup of instant coffee as his inner voice pleads with him to change his mind, and stay the course in a monotonous life as a reclusive success. Each time Kas finds himself being coaxed and convinced that life is grand on the inside, he lusts more and more for the outside where the air is sweet, the sun is warm, and the briefcases are buried in dewy blades of grass he can practically taste.

It's midnight, and the stakes have never been higher; Kas clutches his baseball bat with the grip of a seasoned prostitute, and stares into the darkness, waiting for fate to pay him a visit and ring his doorbell one last time.

Now the time has come, it's 2:58am, and Kas is sweating profusely in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, even though the temperature is a cool 20 degrees celsius. Bat in hand and sound of mind, Kas impatiently waits for the doorbell knowing this showdown has been put off for far too long, and even if his next view is a coffin lid six feet under, at least he won't be trapped by an invisible assassin tormenting his soul any longer. 

It's 3am, and no sooner has the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room gonged its third warning, the chime of the front door beckons Kas to his newfound fate. As Kas raises the bat over his head ready to bludgeon whatever is on the other side, he briskly rips open the door, and instead of seeing the nothing he expected, he sees Kaspen Willis, briefcase in hand, and he can't stop laughing.

NB