A Creepy Little Tale

Suspense-filled, weird, or off beat story for those who seek the unexpected.

Last Memory

My name is Donny. Until I was twelve, I lived with my seventeen-year-old brother, Brandon. My Mom lived there too, but I don’t think she liked us much. This is my last memory.



Brandon was at basketball practice, but I knocked anyway. With a quick glance down the stairwell, I slipped into his room and crossed to the closet and his bin of comic books. I wasn’t looking for editions of Superman or Captain America. The secret stash of magazines hidden underneath was the magnet.


Squatting beneath his hanging clothes, I shuffled through the top batch of colorful super heroes. Sizzling with anticipation and a little bit afraid of getting caught, I stopped to wipe my clammy hands on the carpeted floor. My right hand swiped across a lump under the plush fibers.


Whoa! I bet that’s the candy stash Brandon brags about. Hoping to see Snickers and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, I lifted the carpet from the tack strip in the corner of the closet.


A final tug exposed the hidden treasure. What the heck! I crab walked backwards, letting the rug snap back in place.


A pistol, big enough for Dirty Harry, was right there in my brother’s closet. My gaze shifted from the hiding place to the bedroom door and back again. Do I tell Mom? No! I’m too old to tattle.


Sucking quick shallow breaths, I crept back to the closet and lifted the carpet. A door slammed downstairs. My nerves twinged, and I lurched, planting my left palm on the strip of carpet tacks. “Ouch!” My heart pounded like an angry prisoner in my chest. I grabbed the gun, scrambled to the door, and peered down the hall.


After a frantic dash into my room, I pressed my back to the door. My knees buckled, and I slid to the floor, closed my eyes and listened to the wheeze of my own labored breath and rain drumming on the window.


“Donny? Are you upstairs?” My mother’s voice and creaking footsteps triggered nerves in my neck that traveled down my arms to the fingers gripping the gun. Oh, my God! Why did I take it?


Mom’s footsteps were getting closer. I jumped up, searching every corner of the room. Where do I put it? The open backpack on my bed became a quick and easy hiding place.


I plopped on my bed just as Mom tapped on the door and entered my room. I coughed, hoping to disguise my gasping breath.


“What’s wrong? You look like you just ran a race.” She stood with one hand on the doorknob, her head pivoting in a suspicious search.


“I was doing sit-ups.” A couple of toe touches to demonstrate, bounced the bed. The backpack slid off the end, hitting the floor with a resounding thud.


I lunged to retrieve it, but Mom had already snatched it up. “What do you keep in this thing?” She held it at arm’s length as if it were contaminated.


“Books, of course. It is a book bag, ya know?” I clasped my arms across my waist, trying to look like I didn’t care that she had it.


She walked to my desk and set the bag down with a clunk. “Sounds more like rocks than books.” She flipped the top open and stood there frozen, her mouth hanging open.


I scrambled off the bed. “It’s not mine! I found it.” I grabbed at the backpack, but she pushed me away.


Her face contorted and her voice held a sternness I’d never heard before. “You, sit down.” She pointed at my bed.


With one hand, she lifted the gun by the grip. With the other, she stroked the steel barrel, caressing it as if… as if it were a kitten or an elaborate piece of fine china. She lowered herself into the desk chair and spoke in a barely audible voice. “I used to have a gun just like this, but somebody hid it from me.” Her eyes closed, and she pressed the muzzle to her temple.


Thunder boomed, and I turned to the rain-streaked window. Gloom, like a black cloud, invaded the room. I should’ve just taken the magazines.



No one will tell me what happened after that. I don’t even have dreams about it.


You’ll have to excuse me now. It’s time for my lunch. Oh good. The orderly brought the red Jell-O. And he disguised my favorite magazine inside a Superman comic book.


I should ask him to sneak in a gun.

“HIDDEN” a suspense novel.

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HIDDEN – Available on Amazon.