Scaring the Addictions Away

Scaring the Addictions Away

“Dammit, Linda! I should be able to smoke in my own house.”

          “It stinks up the place, Bob. You know that. I don’t want it smelling when we entertain guests.”

          “And when was the last time that happened, Linda? Huh?”

          “You’re drunk. Go outside, smoke your cigarette, and hopefully the cold air will sober you up before you come back in our house.”

          “Whatever,” Bob whispered under his breath.

          “What was that?” demanded Linda sternly. With her hands rested on her hips, his wife’s posture told him to keep his mouth shut. 

          “Nothing,” he replied. He watched her leave the kitchen

          Bob grabbed his heavy, winter coat that hung on the rack near the side door of his house. No, it was our house. He slipped the coat on as he slid his feet into the openings of his snow boots. They squeaked against the tile floor as he put them on. A black and grey-stripped beanie was also hanging from the rack, which he grabbed to cover his balding head. He then made sure he had everything he needed for his smoke outing. 

          Pack of Marlboro 27s, check. 

          Lighter, check.

          No wife, double check.

          A blast of frigid air rushed into the house as he opened the door. He quickly stepped outside and shut the door so his wife wouldn’t yell at him from the other room about letting all of the heat out.

          Brr, it’s cold.

          Pulling out the pack of cigarettes, Bob took one out and plopped it between his lips. It was a bit windy, so he had to cup his left hand around the end as he lit it. Sucking in and watching the flickering flame pull in towards the tip, the tobacco caught fire in a bright orange. The smooth smoke seeped through his mouth and into his lungs. He held it there for several seconds, enjoying his addiction, and exhaled it in a satisfying cloud of smoke.

          He first started smoking twenty-five years ago, when he was only fifteen-years old. Hanging out with some older kids behind a gas station after school one day, he had given in to peer pressure to look cool in front of everyone else. After hacking up a lung-and-a-half, he could feel the slight high first time users experience. His head had become lighter, and every step he took felt like walking on clouds. He was immediately hooked. That high would quickly vanish after several sessions of smoking, but he would forever be dependent on the cancer sticks’ enticing pull that would never let him go. He loved to smoke and had no intention of stopping, even with the small health effects that had developed recently in his life.

          Bob inhaled the first cigarette, feeding his addiction. Tossing the butt into his ashtray bucket, he then took out a second cigarette, the one he would smoke slowly to enjoy. Lighting the end, he savored the sweet smoke. Exhaling leisurely, he looked past the cloud of tobacco and into his backyard.

          He froze still as a dark shadow flashed by his shed and Conversion van.

          The only light outside came from the one directly above Bob, where he stood next to the side door of his home. It didn’t offer much, but it was enough to make out most of the backyard. The half-acre of yard that had been cut from the surrounding wooded area contained a storage shed and a maroon GMC Savana full-size van, which all were now covered by several inches of fresh snow that had fallen earlier in the day.

          Bob knew he was still lightly inebriated, but the sudden frightening shadow sobered him up a bit. With the half-smoked cigarette forgotten for the moment, he took two cautious steps towards the vehicle when he stopped dead in his tracks.

          Voices, two of them, came from the silent night. They were muffled, sounding almost like they were coming through static in a broken radio. Bob’s terror was replaced by anger. Trespassers were in his yard. Probably some no-good punk kids looking for a secret place to fuck. The van, which he had never worried about locking while stored in the backyard, was old and had seen its own share of some loving involving he and his wife. But there was no way he was going to let some hooligans dirty up his belongings.

          “Fucking kids!” he yelled towards the vehicle that had been a wedding gift from Linda’s now deceased parents. “Get away from my—“

          A violent shaking from the conversion van cut Bob off from finishing his warning. It rocked back and forth, almost to the point of tipping over onto its side. There was no way two kids getting their jolly’s off could cause that much commotion. There was no way anyone could cause a three-ton object to move that vigorously without mechanical assistance.

          Bob was back to being scared.

          The shaking continued, rattling the snow from the vehicle. The whole thing even seemed to levitate off the ground several inches in the process. Dark shadows and quick, small sparks of light flashed around from the inside.

          The event stopped abruptly, leaving Bob dumbfounded and frightened. He didn’t dare move, even with the wind picking up and blowing the freezing air onto his exposed face.

          He waited a few seconds.

          There was nothing.

          He waited a few more seconds.

          Still, there was nothing.

          There was no sign of the shadow that had flittered through the dark moments before. No more voices in the air. Nothing was moving except for the falling snow. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

          Fuck this.

          Bob slowly backed away until he was up against the door to the house. Never moving his eyes from the van and shed, he stumbled with the doorknob, twisted it nervously, and fell into the house as he pushed the door open. He bolted to his feet and quickly shut and locked the door.

          “Jesus, Bob!” Linda cried from the other side of the house. “What’s all that commotion going on out there?” Her pounding footsteps were heard storming down the hall until the angry woman appeared in the kitchen.

          “Nothing, dear. I was just coming back in from outside.”

          “Is that a cigarette in your hand? I told you, no smoking in the house!”

          “What?” Bob looked down to see that he was still holding the half-smoked cigarette he was too frightened to finish. “Oh. I’m sorry, Linda. I just forgot to throw it in the bucket. Look, it’s out.”

          “Well, get it out of here. I can already smell it stinking up the place.”

          Right.

          “Okay, Linda.” He opened the door to the outside and threw his butt into the bucket with the others that were starting to pile up. He never once looked out into the backyard. Turning to his wife, he said, “You happy?”

          “Don’t give me attitude,” she warned.

          Bob could see she was about to go on a rant when she suddenly stopped. Her face changed from angry to confused.

          “Are you alright? You look like you’d just seen a ghost, and you’re shaking a bit.”

          “I…uh…um,” he stuttered after hearing her mention a ghost. He quickly dismissed the thought of telling the truth, knowing she would never believe him. “I’m tired, cold, and I’m ready for bed. That’s all.”

          She eyed him suspiciously. “Alright. Get yourself cleaned up before getting into bed; I don’t want to sleep next to someone who reeks of smoke.” She left him standing alone in the kitchen.

           Bob couldn’t stop shaking as he made his way to the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes, avoided looking at his old, flabby body in the mirror, and stepped into the shower. He used the first blast of cold water to try and sober himself up and wash the fear away, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked. He couldn’t stop thinking about the ghostly event he had witnessed. It wouldn’t leave his mind.

          “Are you sure you’re okay?” Linda asked again as he entered their bedroom wearing only his robe.

          “I think I’m just a little stressed over work,” Bob replied, trying to hide any sign of nervousness as he slipped into his sleeping attire. “You know I’ve been working more than usual lately. I probably just need a good night’s sleep.”

          “Okay,” she yawned. “If you say so. Make sure you shut off the light before getting into bed.” She rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes to sleep.

          Turning off the light, Bob slid under the sheets of his bed, lied down on his side of the bed, and closed his eyes to follow in his wife’s footsteps. It took him twenty-minutes, rather than the normal three to five minutes, to finally fall asleep.

          That night, Bob’s dreams were nothing but nightmares.

#

          Bob delayed having his first cigarette of the day, the one that he would have every morning the minute he woke up. He was still disturbed by the pervious night’s events, and did not want to view his backyard. Although he was badly jonesing for one, he didn’t light his first cigarette until he was in his car and on his way to work. There was no enjoyment inhaling the tobacco.

          Throughout the day, Bob took only half as many smoke breaks as usual. The other electricians noticed and even joked about it, saying he must be coming down with something because he was smoking so little.

          “Guess I’ve just been forgetful today.” He didn’t want them to know the truth, that smoking brought back bad memories.

          Bob was never able to get through one whole cigarette the entire time he was at work.

          When all of the electrical wires were finally laid down in the house he and his fellow coworkers were working on, Bob was able to go home for the day. Though, home was not some place he really wanted to be. He went to his favorite local bar instead. After a few beers, when he was feeling a good buzz coming on, he decided to head home.

          “And where have you been?” Linda was staring angrily at him as he entered the house.

          “Uh, work ran late.”

          “Is that why I can smell booze on your breath? Bob, you knew I was making dinner tonight. Is going to a bar really more important than me? You know what, don’t answer that. I’m going to my reading room.”

          Linda stormed off down the hall and into her reading room, the room she isolated herself in whenever she was feeling fussy. Good riddance. 

          Now alone in the kitchen, Bob could smell the food Linda had cooked. It smelt like roast beef and the leftovers were probably stored in the fridge. He would get into that later, but first he wanted to face his fear.

          During the day, Bob kept telling himself that he was being a little pussy. His eyes were playing tricks on him and what he saw didn’t really happen. There was no way what he saw could have happened. He had been too drunk and too tired last night, so he vowed to smoke outside in the backyard again, no matter what. He wasn’t going to let his stupid imagination scare him out of his own backyard.

          He pulled on his coat, put on his boots, and made sure he was all set to go outside and enjoy a smoke. And this time, he would enjoy it. He paused just as he was about to open the door, with his right hand resting on the handle.

          You can do this, Bobby.

          The frigid air rushed in as he yanked the side door open and walked into the winter outside. Thick clumps of snow were falling from the night sky, blowing around heavily in the strong wind. It was hard to make out anything in the backyard through the dense weather. The van and shed were barely visible from where he stood.

          It took him several tries to light his cigarette; he got it after using his coat as a windbreaker. He inhaled and then watched the smoke quickly swirl away as he exhaled slowly. Closing his eyes, Bob took himself away to a fond memory he always enjoyed reliving.

          Ten years ago, when the last of their two children had left for college, he and his wife had taken a road trip across the United States. It started with dropping Sarah off at the University of California, Berkeley.  The three of them—Ricky couldn’t make it; he was busy living his newly adult life in Seattle—drove straight through from Fargo, Minnesota. The only stops they made were Mount Rushmore and the Grand Canyon, in order to make good time. After tearfully leaving their only daughter behind, Bob and Linda began their trip north. They drove along the entire west coast until they reached Canada. Passing the border into and spending a couple of nights in Vancouver, they then made their way to Banff, where they relaxed for a whole week. Bob never really liked resort towns, but the area was beautiful and he quickly fell in love with the place. Grudgingly leaving Banff, he and his wife drove through Calgary and then down to Montana. The rest of the trip was driven through the States. The entire vacation was Bob’s favorite and brought back great memories.

          Opening his eyes back up and bringing himself back to reality, Bob stared at the vehicle that had made his favorite trip possible. The van stood out in the weather, with the snow clearing a visible area just for him.

          With his cigarette now out, he threw it in the bucket and pulled out another one. When it was finally lit, his attention was on the conversion van.

          It beckoned him. It called out to him. It urged him to come closer, to peer through the shaded windows and into the interior. It exerted a sensation only living organisms could produce. Bob felt all of this while his eyes were glued to the vehicle. No matter how hard he tried to push the feelings away, he couldn’t shake the fear it sent through his body. He ignored all of this and began walking towards the far end of his backyard.

          He took one step.

          He took another step.

          He was halfway across the yard in four more big, cautious steps.

          Keep going, Bobby. There’s absolutely nothing to be scared of.

          After one more step, Bob Minden, a full-grown adult, peed his pants at the event that unfolded in front of him.

          A dark shadow, painted to the wall like a video projection, flew around the corner of the shed and dove into the van. With a tremendous shutter, the van rocked back and forth until it fell eerily silent and still. For a brief few seconds, the only sound and movement was the wind and fresh snow almost blinding the area. Without warning, the van lifted several inches off the ground. Quick, bright flashes of light lit the inside of the van like small, little strobe lights. Within these flashes of light, Bob could make out two figures who appeared to be struggling. The van dropped to the ground with a loud thud. A hand shot up to one of the windows in the back, clawing at the glass in terrible screeching sounds.

          He didn’t wait around any longer. Bob turned and bolted towards the side entrance of his house. Falling snow pelted his face and blurred his vision as he slipped and fell head first into the door. Ouch. Stumbling to get back up, he found the door handle. He couldn’t get it open fast enough as he finally fell into the safety of his home. Out of breath, shaking, and scared to hell, he pulled himself into one of the kitchen chairs to collect himself.

          “What is going on in here?” Linda stormed into the kitchen. Her face was red with anger, but as soon as she saw Bob’s face her expression changed. “Bob, you look sick! What happened to you?”

          “Nothing. I just slipped and fell and hit my head.”

          She gave him a queer look. “Are you okay?”

          “Yeah, I’m fine. Probably won’t even leave a mark.” 

          “Well, why don’t you come to bed and I’ll make you feel all better,” she said, adding a wink and a smile before disappearing down the hall.

          The gesture was an odd one; they hadn’t fooled around in well over four months. Bob was not one to turn down some hanky panky, even if it did come from his normally crabby and uptight wife. He quickly stripped as he made his way to the bedroom, feeling overly excited about getting some.

          The time with his wife replaced his thoughts from current, unexplained events, but only for a while.

#

          It wasn’t until his lunch break, which was around noon, when Bob smoked his first cigarette the next day. It’s not that he didn’t want to, he desperately wanted to inhale the sweet tobacco, he just couldn’t. Every time he reached for one of those cancer sticks, nausea swept over him, he would begin to shake, and he would feel stressed and full of anxiety. Flashes of those frightening memories of the van would pop up. When he was finally able to light one and put it between his lips, he had to stop himself from gagging with each puff. He snubbed it out with only half of it gone.

          He told his employees that he wasn’t feeling too great, and that he might take the next day off. If he couldn’t smoke, then he knew something was wrong with him. Being the boss had its advantages, so if this kept up, he probably would take a sick day.

          Bob was able to force himself to smoke one more time before the work day was over. This time he burnt about three-fourths of the cigarette before putting it out under his foot. 

          When work ended, Bob thought about heading to the bar to have a beer or two before heading home. He knew it would upset Linda, but he didn’t care. As he thought more about drinking, and the closer he got to the bar, he began to feel sick again. By the time he was parked in the small parking lot out back, his queasiness was strong enough to prevent him from leaving the car. It was the same feeling that came over him when he tried to smoke.

          Screw this.

          He left the bar parking lot and made his way home. The sick feeling subsided a bit, but it came back whenever smoking or drinking invaded his thoughts. By the time he was home, he was ready for bed.

          “Hey there, Bob,” Linda greeted him as he entered the house. “Dinner will be ready in twenty-minutes.”

          “I’m not feeling that great, I think I might go and lay down for a while.”

          “Bob, I slaved all day over this great dinner for you. For you!” Bob could see the anger rise in his wife’s face. She stormed off into the kitchen in a huff.

          He would normally stay and argue with her, but he really wasn’t feeling it. Stripping off his winter clothing, he made his way to the bedroom where he curled up on his side of the bed. He pushed the sickening thoughts of tobacco and alcohol out of his head and was fast asleep within minutes.

#

          Bob woke up in the middle of the night. His work clothes were still on and Linda was snoring deep in her sleep next to him. The red numbers on his clock said it was two in the morning, which meant he would have to be up for work again in only a few more hours.

          I need a smoke.

          It was his habitual thinking. And since the thought only made him a little nauseas, he decided to go out for a smoke.

          Quietly getting out of bed, making sure not to wake his sleeping wife—he knew better than to wake his wife during the middle of the night unless it was an emergency; the first time he did he vowed never to again—he walked out of the bedroom to get his things. Once he had everything and was all dressed up for the cold outside, Bob then made sure he was mentally ready for what was ahead. 

          With his hand on the door handle to the outside, his stomach began to clench up feel like he had swallowed a brick. Closing his eyes and taking in a few deep, slow breaths, he opened the door and readied for the worst.

          The outside was eerily quiet and peaceful. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, as the bright full moon shone down on the grey, black, and white landscape of the night. It was very cold, and the outdoor thermometer that was attached to the side of the house said it was just below zero degrees Fahrenheit. Watching thick clouds of air form with every breath, Bob knew he wasn’t going to last long outside.

          He kept his eyes away from the van and shed.

          Reaching for a cigarette and pulling one out, he immediately began to feel sick to his stomach. He couldn’t even put the thing near his mouth without starting to gag.

          It was annoying and frustrating. He knew he wanted to smoke; he wanted to smoke badly. He could feel his body and mind begging for one, aching for his addiction to get its fix from the sweet tobacco smoke. But at the same time, his body and mind were trying their hardest to force him not to smoke. He was very confused about what his body and mind really wanted.

          It was that damn van’s fault. If he were ever going to smoke or drink again, he would have to face his fear.

          He turned to look at it. The moonlight illuminated the shed, casting a large shadow over the van next to it. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but Bob knew better than to assume anything. He stared at the van for a few minutes before making any movement.

          He took two steps towards the van and then paused.

          Nothing happened.

          He took another two steps, the frozen snow crunching under his weight.

          Still, there was nothing.

          His nerves were getting to him. Paranoia swept over him, causing him to wildly look around at the slightest movement or sound. The snap of a branch somewhere deep in the woods made him look that way, while snow falling from a tree made him look that way.

          There was still nothing, though, and he was only several yards from the van and shed.

          See Bobby, you’ve been imagining it all.

          He froze in his tracks, his beating heart sped up, and his breathing stopped. A dark shadow had flashed from inside the van. It was quick, but he was sure he saw something. He didn’t dare move a muscle in his body. 

          After several seconds of nothing, hoping it was just his imagination, Bob continued forward. It happened again as soon as he took one more step.

          Like fireflies in the night, little glowing balls of light blinked into and out of existence within the large vehicle. It was beautiful, but it also sent shivers through Bob’s spine. The balls of light began to swirl about, never leaving the confines of the inside. The van hovered a few inches off the ground, rocking back and forth violently as the blinking lights intensified. There was no sound, which was odd considering how ferocious it all looked.

          It scared the shit out of him. If he hadn’t went to the bathroom before leaving the house, he would have wet himself. He had never been more scared in his life.

          But he had had enough. No more.

          “Stop it. Stop it! STOP IT!”

          Bob screamed as he ran towards the van in a rage. The vehicle slammed to the ground the moment he reached it. The lights on the inside were now ecstatic, flashing and swirling every color imaginable. A sinister laugh broke the silence, slightly muffled through the glass windows. His hand slid under the door handle. He hesitated, but only for a second before pulling the large double-doors on the side of the van open.

          Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside, so it wasn’t a surprise that police found him still screaming and holding both doors wide open.

#

          Bob watched them take his wife away. He was standing on the front steps of his house, drinking a hot cup of coffee an officer had brought him a few minutes ago. She almost hit her head on the top of the cruiser as two police officers ducked her into the backseat. He silently sipped his drink as two of the flashing blue and red vehicles, one containing his wife, drove away from his residence. That left him with two more vehicles in his driveway, an ambulance for the corpse, and another cruiser that belonged to the two officers left standing in front of him.

          “I think we’ve got everything we need, Mr. Mintz.” The woman was talking while the man was taking notes, and still having trouble writing in the freezing weather. “You’re wife has admitted to the murder of Vanessa Toothrick, confirming your story of not being involved with the crime. Is there anything you would like to add at this time, to your statement?”

          He had told them everything he knew. Well, almost everything. Finding the dead body of some woman in the conversion van was the truth, along with not knowing anything about the horribly disfigured and scarred body, but he did leave a few details out. There was no way he would tell the officers about seeing shadows, lights, and a hovering and shaking van that would lead to him finding the deceased woman; they would think he was crazy and lock him up in some mental asylum. He would never tell anyone the truth about what he saw. “No,” he said, “there is nothing else I would like to say.”

          “And you stand by your statement that you had only one prior contact with the deceased?” It was the male officer that asked the question this time.

          “Yes.” The woman had appeared only once in his life, two weeks ago when she came to the front door selling cosmetics. She was very flirty at the time, but Bob had completely ignored her as he was leaving for work. He had assumed his wife passed on the offer and sent the saleswoman on her way. He had assumed wrong, and something inside Linda’s overly jealous brain snapped that day. “Is there anything else? I’ve answered all of your questions, and this is all way too much for me to handle.”

          “Yeah,” the policewoman said, “I think we’ve got it all. Just make sure you swing by our office tomorrow to go over a few more things. And don’t plan on leaving town for the next few days.”

          “I’m not. I’m going to be staying with my friend for the next night or two, though. He lives only a few houses that way.” Bob pointed a shaking finger down the road. He was still nervous and shaken up from earlier.

          As the two officers began to walk away, one of them pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit the end. She turned towards Bob. “Care for a smoke?” the woman asked, offering her pack to him.

          “No, thanks,” he replied, sipping his coffee. “I quit.”