Disturbed Lincoln

12

While Enzo looked around in silence and Clyde eagerly awaited his words, I started to have another vision. Painted arrows of bright neon oranges and greens pointed me out of the room and down the hallway, eventually leading me to the kitchen. "Hey Enzo," I called out to him, "you might wanna come see this!" He rushed in and spotted it immediately. A red smear lay on the wall—previously unnoticed and therefore still clean. His detective's eyes have probably been trained to find small details like this. Now, to test whether or not the crimson smudge was blood or another substance, Enzo approached it and bent forward to smell it. "God, it smells like iron. That's definitely blood, but now the question is, why would a small trace of blood be smeared on the wall if the victim committed suicide?"

     "Maybe police accidentally... rubbed it?" Clyde suggested. "Don't be a fool," he said. "If the police missed this bit here, then maybe there's more clues around they were too inattentive to find." His words inspired me to glance around the room, waiting for something to stick out or catch my eye. That's when I spotted two small black appendages. They were tiny; gripping the corner of the wall from the other side. Then a small face peeked around, and I saw it was a living creature. It was a shaggy black rat, peaking at us. "Clyde," I said tapping his shoulder, "do you see that?" I pointed to the corner and the rat skidded away. "No," he replied. "Are you okay, Lincoln? Are you... seeing something?" Alone in this surreal sighting, I ventured after it. With a clumsy rush, bumping into chairs and tables, I followed the rodent through multiple rooms. It was just fast enough to escape my vision (all but its tail, which I caught a glimpse of always the second before it exited to the next room). It felt like I was Alice in Wonderland.

Finally, I came to a dead end, and the rat had its back to the wall. Its head hopelessly turned, looking for a way to escape, and when fear booted it in the rear, it bolted to try and slip under me through my legs. I was too quick for him, though, and I gripped him around his dry, ebony body. His hair felt clean, and his eyes now became prominently red. It hissed at me, and soon the hiss turned intelligible, into sensible English words. "Unhand me or suffer Hell, daemon!" With a body so miniature, you wouldn't expect a voice so mature and gruff. I've never heard a voice with such anger and resentment. Even when he spoke normally, he hissed and shook violently to slip out of my grasp. "Calm down, Rat!"

    "Rat? How dare you. I'm more than a rat, you naive child! I'm the antichrist himself!" he shouted. "The antichrist, you say? Didn't know a being that evil would be so small. Honestly, I doubt your claim, Mr. Rat." It scowled at me and scolded me with its red eyes. "Bastard child, let go of me!" Sick of its words, I threw it to the ground and pressed the heel of my boot into its body, causing it to gasp for air are squeeze out the last of its bitter insults. At first, its guts—mashed and messy—leaked outward, but quickly they turned to black ash that was swayed away by an intangible wind. "That was weird," I said out loud to myself. "What was weird?" Clyde asked, startling me. "Oh, nothing. I was just... seeing things." He pushed his lips to the side to create a concerned expression, and then I followed him back to Enzo.