Free Paranoiac by Attikus Absconder

was almost finished with my
pointless search around this awful house. What if I don’t find
anything? What if I can’t find anyone? I should just leave. Maybe I
could check my phone for messages? That is if that bastard hadn’t
stole my bag.
    “ Of course!” I yelled out feeling like an imbecile. I’ve been
here for days and yet I never once thought of checking my phone,
that rectangle hunk of glass, plastic and precious metals. I
probably had voicemails or text messages pouring out of my inbox
from the people who are staying here, possibly even Molly. “That’s
why that asshole took my stuff,” I said out-loud, feeling a weight
being lifted from my shoulders. I know where the answers are! Now I
just need to find this phantom fool and get my phone. I knew the
solution was much simpler than I was making it out to
be.
    My years of
alcohol and distrust have left me twisted and paranoid. Now I would
have to live with the embarrassment of my behavior. Luckily only
the prankster and I know the bounds of my stupidity. Not to mention
once I find this prowler I’ll wring his neck and bury him in the
back yard with my mothers' statues. Who would honestly mess with me
like this? I don’t have many friends and acquaintances but I don’t
think any of them would jerk me around like this. If I catch this
traitor I will definitely tear him apart with my bare
teeth!
    Too many
repressed memories have surfaced from this moronic ordeal. Although
I have to confess that I dwell way too much on the past. “What kind
of writer would I be if I wasn’t a self-loathing misanthrope?” I
said aloud, staring at the pool and its stone waterfall. I sipped
at my water pondering my time here. My mind traced its way around
the property, checking to see if I missed any rooms.
    Swiftly I
turned around, my mind set on searching the various broom closets.
I would strip every nook and cranny of this house down to its
wooden frames. Folding and tucking this stupid journal into my back
pocket, I made my way back to the back patio door. The instant I
opened the door a small pebble sliced across the bridge of my
nose.
    I stumbled
back quickly as another dozen little stones were pelted at me. Most
of them missed and bombarded the screen doors and the metal siding.
I jumped back into the sunroom and slammed the door. More and more
rocks smacked into the door and sunroom. It sounded like hail
raining sideways. “You mother fucker!” I yelled over the falling
stones at who I presumed was the stranger. The moment I yelled out
the stone-storm ceased. Unfortunately it was replaced by the laugh
of my nightmares.
    I slumped to
the ground with my back to the door. His laughter continued, barely
stopping to take a breath in-between his cacophony of cackling. I
pulled my knees to my chest, my eyes wide open with fear and my
journal digging into my hip. The laughter went on and on and on.
Another storm of pebbles started bouncing and smashing into the
sunroom. I covered my ears and shut my eyes. All I could see in my
mind’s eye was that gaunt, pale twin of mine laughing with a
devilish, riant grin.
    “ Isaac!” He began to yell, replacing his hellish laughter with
that awful, awful voice. “What’s the matter Zac? I thought you were
you were going to tear me apart with your teeth and bury me under
one of your mommies dear old statues?” My eyes popped open with
shock. How did he know that? I don’t even think I said that
out-loud. None of this makes sense. “Isaac! Isaac! Isaac!” He
yelled out over and over again, interrupting any thoughts I was
trying to form.
    No matter how
firm I held my hands to my head, I couldn’t block out the
interlopers voice. His tone just seeped into my skull. At this
point I preferred the laughter over his mocking. As if he were
answering my prayers, he continued the onslaught of pebbles and
laughter. And when he took a break from his forced laughter, he
returned to chanting my name heinously.
    My blood was
boiling. I