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Novelo Rectangle

The man she buried is back and knocking. Carol hesitated, her pulse pounding in her ears. The sound of the knocking was steady, insistent, as if echoing from some grave ambiguity. Slowly, she approached the door, her hand trembling as she reached for the latch. Every instinct told her this couldn’t be real—yet here it was, impossible and undeniable. She took a deep breath, eyes searching the gloom beyond the threshold, trying to comprehend what force dared to disturb her darkness now. With a shudder, she turned the handle. Carol gasped. “Oh my God, Laura! What are you doing here this time of night?” “I thought you might need some company after the last couple of days you’ve had,” Laura replied, pushing past Carol and letting herself in. “I didn’t want you to be alone in the house in case the police found Roger.” “I appreciate that,” Carol said with a visible shudder. “I’ve been terrified all evening. I don’t know what to do with myself.”“I’m guessing there’s no word?” Laura asked tentatively. Carol shook her head. “Nothing! I don’t understand. Something must've happened to Roger. He’s been missing now for over forty-eight hours. His secretary said he left work at five p.m. on Friday—headed for home.” But there’s been no sign of him since. No call, no message—nothing to indicate he’s even alive. Laura’s brow furrowed, her eyes scanning the dim room as if expecting to find some clue hidden in the shadows. “Have you checked with the hospital? “First thing right after I called the police to report him missing. They said they’d let me know as soon as they found something out. They’ve run every possible lead—nothing. It’s like he just vanished into thin air. But I swear, Laura, last night I dreamt I heard his voice calling to me. It was so real… I can’t get it out of my head.” Laura’s face grew pale. “That sounds like something from a nightmare, Carol. Maybe you’re just overthinking everything after what happened.” “No,” Carol whispered, clutching her arms as if to ward off a cold breeze. “It felt different this time, like a warning—or maybe he’s trying to tell me something.” Her voice trembled as she looked toward the darkened hallway, shadows shifting in the dim lamp light. “I can’t believe the police haven’t found his car,” Laura said. Her eyes darted toward the corner table where Roger’s keys often lay, but they were gone. “No,” Carol sighed. “They haven’t found his car. The police checked all the cameras at work, and they clearly showed him leaving Friday, but after that… no trace of him.” “Girlfriend,” Laura chided. “You need some sleep. I know it’s hard right now, but you’ve been running on fumes since Friday night. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll sit with you. I’m not leaving until the police comes up with something concrete.” Carol nodded slowly, her throat tight with exhaustion and fear. She allowed Laura to steer her toward the bedroom, where the faint glow of dawn seeped through the curtains. As she sank onto the edge of the bed, a sudden chill ran down her spine. She glanced around, half expecting to see Roger standing in the doorway, or some shadow lurking just beyond her vision. Laura sat down in the overstuffed chair by the window. “You sure you’re alright for tonight?” “I guess I’ll survive,” Carol whispered, trying to sound convincing. She closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to hold it together. But as sleep threatened to claim her, a whisper floated through the room—so faint she thought it was only her imagination. Yet it persisted, growing clearer… “They’ll find me.” A cold sweat broke out on Carol’s brow. She sat bolt upright, heart pounding anew, eyes darting frantically around the shadows. The voice was unmistakably Roger’s—resonant yet distorted, like a message buried beneath layers of static. Was this just another mind trick?” “What’s wrong?” Laura asked from her chair by the window that looked out into the back yard. Carol’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she said nothing, her eyes fixed on the shadows that danced just beyond the reach of the dawn’s tentative light. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, trying to steady its erratic beat. “It’s him,” she finally announced. “Roger… I heard him again.” Her eyes fluttered open, searching Laura’s face for reassurance, but all she saw was concern etched deep into her features. Laura stood quickly, crossing the room quickly. “That’s impossible,” she said firmly. “He’s gone, Carol. Whatever you’re hearing—maybe stress or exhaustion—it's messing with your head. You need to rest.” “But I know what I heard,” Carol insisted. “It’s like he’s trying to say something. Something only I can understand.” Laura hesitated, then reached out and gently took Carol’s shaking hands in hers. “Look, maybe it’s just the stress talking. Or maybe—” she paused, voice softer now—“maybe it’s something else. Maybe he is trying to reach you from somewhere beyond the normal realm.” A shiver ran down Carol’s spine at those words. She looked back toward the window, where the first hints of morning light cast a fragile glow over the yard. She looked out at the giant hole where they were putting in a pool. She’d stood beside that hole in the ground on Friday night and again on Saturday night, but for two very different reasons. Friday night was when she’d buried her husband’s body, and Saturday night was when she found his muddy grave empty.A faint hint of static electricity crackled in the air, and then a whisper—soft, almost inaudible, but undeniably Roger’s voice. It seemed to echo from inside the very walls of the house. “Find the truth,” it rasped beneath layers of distortion. “It’s buried with me.” Carol’s breath hitched as she stared at the ceiling, her heart hammering harder than ever. Laura’s eyes widened in alarm, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Did you hear that?” she demanded, voice shaking. “I did,” Carol said, her face suddenly expressionless. Her fingers clenched into fists as she fought to keep calm. The voice—Roger’s voice—had sounded so close, yet impossibly distant at the same time. She knew this wasn’t just her mind unraveling. He was coming for her—to punish her for killing him.A sudden gust of cold wind swept through the room, causing the curtains to ripple and the small hairs on Carol’s arms to stand on end. The whispering grew louder, more insistent, reverberating in her ears like a haunting melody she couldn’t quite understand. She clutched her head, feeling as if invisible fingers were curling around her mind, trying to pry loose her very sanity. Laura’s grip tightened and her eyes darted around the room nervously, as if expecting something—or someone—to materialize out of the shadows. The house seemed to breathe, its walls whispering secrets, secrets best left buried. Suddenly, a faint thud echoed from the backyard. Both women froze. Carol’s gaze snapped to the window, where the yard remained still—yet her gut told her otherwise. She instinctively moved toward the door, pushing past Laura, who looked on with growing dread. Outside, beneath the pallid dawn light, she saw it—a faint glow emanating from the freshly dug hole where Roger had been buried just nights before. The earth was disturbed again, jagged and uneven; as if whatever she’d buried hadn’t stayed put. Her stomach clenched. A whisper sliced through the air once more: “Find what’s buried... and set me free.” Roger’s voice rang clearer now—urgent, desperate. Carol grasped her hands over her mouth to stifle a cry. The ground was calling to her, and she knew that whatever lay beneath that earth was no longer confined by death. It had returned, and its message was unmistakable. Carol ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs—throwing open the back door, she stepped into the year and edged closer to the spot where she’d buried Roger. Laura followed her into the backyard. “What are you doing, Carol?’ she called out over the cries of the wind. Carol knelt beside the rough, freshly disturbed earth, brushing aside loose dirt and roots. Suddenly, a cold gust swept past, carrying with it a whisper that sounded eerily familiar: “Free me...” The voice echoed insistently, resonating inside her bones. Her vision blurred as a figured ambled out of the tress, getting ever closer. His eyes hollow pits of darkness staring up her, mouth frozen in a silent scream. “Roger,” she whispered hoarsely, recognizing that chill in his spectral gaze. Her heart hammered fiercely; she knew then that whatever had been buried was no longer confined to death. Whatever had awakened was hungry for release—and perhaps revenge. Carol screamed and curled into a ball, cradling herself against the nightmare come back to life. “Carol, can you hear me?” Laura shouted at the prone woman, but Carol didn’t respond. She retreated deeper into her own mind, and vanished into her world of madness.Laura looked up at the mud-covered specter and smiled. “She's gone, so it’s time for your reappearance.” The dirt covered man turned and headed back into the wood, while Laura called the police, stating she couldn’t get Carol Michaels to respond.That same morning, Roger Michaels drove into his driveway to find several police cars and his wife’s friend Laura standing in his driveway. “What’s going on?” he asked, getting out of his car and approaching the curious group. “Laura gasped. “Where have you been?” Roger looked from Laura to the officers; his brow knitted in confusion. "I've been out of town on business," he replied. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were going out of town?” Laura asked accusingly. “I did,” Roger assured her. “I always tell Carol when I’m leaving on business, and I told her I’d be back today. Where is Carol?” The officer looked slightly dubious when he answered Roger’s question. “Your wife has been admitted to the psychiatric ward at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. She thought you were dead.” Roger scoffed. “That’s ridiculous! I left Carol my itinerary.” A hint of uneasiness crossed Roger’s face, but he quickly masked it with a forced smile. "That can't be right. I spoke to her yesterday afternoon. She seemed fine—and perfectly sane." His eyes darted to Laura, seeking reassurance. “What’s happened to her?” The officer shifted uncomfortably. “We found her in the backyard, curled up in the fetal position, muttering about killing her husband. She’s been transferred for psychiatric assessment. We have reason to believe she may be suffering from severe trauma, hallucinations, or a complete psychotic break.”Roger raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe it. He looked toward the house, where now only silence reigned, except for the distant hum of sirens and the whispering wind. Shaking he said, “I assure you, I’m perfectly fine, but I need to go see my wife.” The police gave Roger an escort to the hospital, with Laura following in her car. Roger’s steps faltered as he reached the hospital corridor, not knowing what he might find. He had no clear memory of entering, yet there he was, standing before the door to her room. The nurse outside hesitated as she saw him, her face pinched with concern. “I want to see her,” Roger said gruffly. “She’s resting now,” the nurse replied firmly. “It’s best if you wait until she wakes up. She’s been through a lot.” He shook his head negatively. “No. I need to see her now. Inside the room, Carol lay motionless under a light blanket, her eyes fluttering open slowly as if she sensed his presence. Her gaze was vacant at first—detached from reality—until, suddenly, her eyes darted to his face. Panic flashed across her features before she whispered. “Find the truth… it’s buried with him.”Roger stepped back as if struck by an invisible force. Her eyes were vacant, almost as if her soul was gone. Just then the doctor entered the room.” “What’s her condition?” Roger asked gravely. The doctor’s face was grim. “She’s in a fragile state. Very little response to stimuli, and her delirium seems to intensify when anyone mentions her husband. We’re doing everything we can, but I must advise patience. She’s not herself right now.” He paused, glancing at the monitors flashing faintly beside her bed. “Whatever trauma she’s endured—whether real or hallucinated—it’s severe enough to require careful observation.” Roger nodded stiffly, clutching the edge of the tray table. The nurse gently closed the door behind her as she left. Silence settled over the room again, thick and oppressive. Roger watched Carol’s face, expecting some flicker of recognition, some sign that she knew he was there. Instead, her eyes fell shut, her breathing shallow and uneven. Roger stepped outside the room, into the hallway, and a detective approached along with the same officer he’d spoken to earlier. “I need to ask you some questions,” the detective said, standing next to Roger with a notepad in hand. “About your disappearance—you being out of town—and what you might know about her mental state.” Roger hesitated a moment, then looked at Carol through the glass. “I didn’t leave town without telling anyone. And I don’t know why she’s saying what she is.” His brow furrowed as if trying to remember something crucial. The detective pulled a piece of paper out of his notebook. “We found your itinerary in your wife’s desk drawer. We know you’re telling the truth. We also contacted the hotel you were staying in, and they confirmed your reservation.” Roger’s shoulders sagged slightly, and relief shone in his eyes. “I just can’t imagine what happened to make my wife. Why would she think I’d disappeared?”“We don’t know, but we hope it all works out,” the detective stated as he shook hand with Roger. The detective and the police officer took nodded and walked away, leaving Roger alone in the hallway with Laura. “She smiled at him. “That went better than I expected.” “Much better,” Roger agreed. “I’ll have her fully committed and then file for divorce.” “We’ll be home free then, baby,” Laura said as they left the hospital, going their separate ways, but only until they were sure no one would suspect a thing. The End&nbsp;June Challenge - "The man she buried is back and knocking.

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Dark Intentions

MaryABostic

Mary Ann Bostic

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Dark Intentions

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Mary Ann Bostic

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