Kanduet

Saturday night: 11:06 pm, November 16, 2019. Yellow crime tape gently swayed in the chilled Texas night air. Neighbors watched in horror from their driveways, whispering amongst one another as three body bags stroll out of the home accompanied by HPD Officers. Most of the police on the scene had tears in their eyes; a crime unheard of in this beautiful quiet gated community.

Doris Gleen-Berg sat almost lifelessly in the back of the cop car in her blood-smeared yellow flannel cat pajamas. News reporters stood just a few feet away from the cop vehicle, business-like as always, providing the news for the public. One photographer on the scene flashed her expensive camera, catching the police car. A bone-chilled feeling moved down her spine when she checked the photos on her camera.

Doris Gleen-Berg carried an evil smirk with her stained red eyes; it was just like Doris knew the photographer was taking her picture. Dry blood was on her pale face and matted long brown hair, but most disturbing was an upside-down cross painted from soot in the middle of her forehead. The photographer captured an eerie picture; it was front-page worthy, and would surely be award-winning. She fought away the growing urge to delete it, meeting up with the TV reporter to show off the photo. 

“So, what do you think?”

“I think I love you! It’s perfect, oh my God, she looks deranged.” The reporter smiled, thinking about how many views and ratings she would gain from the picture and story.

An hour later, at the Houston Police Station, the captain looked fixedly over the report while sipping his black coffee, in his ‘Best Dad Ever Mug,’ a gift from his kids. Halfway down the report, Captain Alex choked on his coffee. The report described first hand what the officers saw. Doris Gleen-berg was sitting in a blood-drenched leather rocking chair, bouncing her headless infant child on her knee, while humming a lullaby.

The officers discovered the infant child’s head, tossed in the burning fireplace. And her two older children, ages eight and seven, were found face first-in their dinner. Both had a butcher knife lodged in the back of their heads. The husband was away on business, and was swiftly notified about the terrible catastrophe. Captain Alex placed the report back on the table and took one more swig of coffee before heading to the interrogation room.

Outside the room, Captain Alex greeted the detective and police chaplain. They peered at the one-way mirror, looking at Doris Gleen-berg. She was sitting inside the small room, playing with her hair at the table.

“Anyone gone in yet?” the captain asked.

“Not yet… this lady gives me the heebee-jeebees; besides, I was waiting for you, since you love the action.”

“Afraid, are we? Not the mighty Detective Mosley,” Captain Alex laughed, slapping the detective’s shoulder.

“Ok tough guy, come with me, and the chaplain can watch from this room.”

The two men entered the interrogation room. Immediately, an overpowering putrid smell engulfed the room, and a slight, eerie breeze rushed by both men. They glanced at one another, puzzled, before taking their seats facing Doris. 

The chaplain watched on, when another cop stormed in, holding a notebook retrieved from Gleen-berg’s house.

“Get them out of there… we need an exorcist!” The cop cried out.

“We need what?” The chaplain said, turning around and catching the notebook.

The officer rushed to the door to enter the room, but the door was jammed. Captain Alex looked back, hearing the officer struggling to open the door, rattling the knob. Suddenly, the lights began flickering steadily like blinking eyes.

Doris slowly tilted her head to the left, forcing her smile to stretch abnormally. This motion caused blood to run down from the corners of her mouth; her eyes shifted to the color of milk. Detective Mosley stood to his feet, startled, and grabbed ahold of his gun, jumping back.

“What in Christ’s name!” Mosley said.

“Yes…YES, cry to your back-pocket lord, yell OUT,” Doris growled, rising from her seat.

“Stand down, lady…now!” Captain Alex ordered, aiming his weapon.

“Lady? Oh no….oh no, no, no .… Doris? I am not Doris. Bow to me, and I’ll let you live,” Doris chuckled, placing both hands on the table and leaning forward.

Detective Mosley broke for it, sprinting toward the door. He pushed and pulled, trying desperately to pry it open. He heard muffled cries of warning and frantic pounding on the door from the officers outside of the room. The detective was filled with sheer panic.

Then, Doris made her move. Effortlessly, she flipped the table, hurling it onto Captain Alex and knocking his gun out from his hands. Milliseconds later, the power at the HPD station went out, leaving them in utter darkness.

To be continued…

Luke 10:19 – Ephesians 6: 11-17

Jeremy L. Richard
Jeremy L. Richard

Jeremy L. Richard ( JLR-Writer) is an American horror author and theology graduate. He's also a signed author with Christian Faith Publishing, known for his prolific hunger for writing and an unwavering imagination that grows stronger daily. Jeremy started writing scary stories at the age of 7, but as he became older, his love for writing was traded for criminal activities. Toward the end of Jeremy's sophomore year, he was expelled from high school. Thankfully, redemption came knocking on his door, and Jeremy had the chance to finish his high-schooling with Continental Academy, and then joined Job Corps out in San Marcos, Texas. A few years later, he enrolled in medical training and began his working hospital career. His passion for writing returned to his life after going through a divorce and the passing of his sister. These two painful blows in his life gave him inspiration, and writing poetry and short stories re-kindled the love of writing, which he thought was lost. You can find Jeremy on Instagram @ jlr_writer / Facebook @IamWriter77