Visions of Grandeur

Ray thought he liked his neighbors…but the kids were a little noisy. When he and his family moved from Wisconsin to the small western Kansas town during the 60’s he had no neighbors. But that was fifty years ago. The little wooden shack that was established during the 60’s was the same he currently lived in. Time had taken its toll on the building, but Ray had done his best to keep the place nice. Over the years, the wooden shutters needed replaced, the door refurbished, and the roof re-shackled. The windows had never needed attention. The quality of old windows far surpassed the quality of modern glass.

Ray sat in his porch rocking chair looking at the neighborhood that had surrounded his house. The cul-de-sac had become a prominent place for the wealthy to relocate. Over the years, many three story buildings had been erected around him. His single story house with two windows on either side of the door looked out humbly at the neighborhood.

The sun beamed down unmercifully on the hot summer day. The dirt path leading from the asphalt road to his porch was on the verge of extinction from the encroaching grass. The heat radiating off the black asphalt of the cul-de-sac distorted the air right above it. A few of the houses surrounding Ray had their sprinklers running on the freshly edged yards.

Everything about these houses was so neat. The wooden panels were all cleanly painted, the basketball goals in the driveways were all installed at perfectly right angles, and the curbs were the fancy slanted kind where you could ride your bike up onto the sidewalk. It was all nice.

For the past six years now, several families had tried to get Ray to leave the neighborhood. They thought his building was an eyesore. Since Ray was unwilling to part with land (despite a large amount of money offered to him), they had tried to help renovate the area. But he had refused. His little house had character, which was something lacking from these mass produced mansions. However, Ray could agree his hedge needed trimming, a common complaint by the community. They didn’t seem to like anything he did however. One time, he found eggs splattered against the walls of his house. Another time his neighbor tries to get rid of the hedges. Ray screamed as he chased him away.

Ray sighed. He reached down with his right arm to grab his water glass. He took a drink of the warm water, oblivious to the rust in the liquid. The days were getting warmer. The summer heat had finally arrived, and Ray’s sweat glands were responding appropriately. It was in this heat, on his porch, with the sweat sliding down his face that he had his first vision.

As Ray’s hand swiped across his face removing sweat from his brow, the sun disappeared. The sudden darkness stole away the sun’s joy Ray had seen moments ago. No moon reflected the sun’s light, no stars twinkled from the heavens. And yet, no clouds above reflected the lights of the small town. It was just blackness.

Ray looked around at the other buildings. No others stood outside exploring the sudden

change. No blinds opened from the large windows to allow peering eyes to see the sky. In fact, no lights aside from the porch lights came from the houses.

Ray sat there for the longest time, waiting for someone to show signs of life. No one did, and hours seemed to fly by. The absence of frogs and crickets filling the air with their orchestral sounds left an eerie sound in their place. Silence.

A shiver ran down Ray’s spine.

Ray noticed a figure dart from the side of his house across the street. The figure ran into the driveway of a large house across from Ray’s. Ray put his hands on the armrests to his chair and lifted himself out of the chair. The sweat that had run down his face was replaced with fear. The figure, no a man, ran up to the garage door and flattened his back to it. He shuffled to the left corner made by the garage’s bricks. The man peered around the corner at the front door. The man looked medium height, no larger than 6’2”. The black hoodie draped over the man’s head barely rose above a row of bricks that jutted out at six feet exactly. The man paused for a brief second, then rounded the corner to the door. He swung the door open, turned around, and shut the door gently. A shout formed in Ray’s throat, but it never left.

A few minutes flew by and nothing happened. Maybe the man was just a thief hoping to make some money. If Ray intervened, someone might get hurt. It would be best just to let the man steal what he wanted and leave. Besides, Ray had no phone to call the cops. He shivered.

A scream came from the building. In the upper floor window above the door, glass shattered and the man in black struggled with the husband, pushing his back out of the window frame. The husband kicked the man in black back into the room, out of Ray’s view. Suddenly an object struck the husband, shooting him out of the window. His body thumped against the sidewalk leading to his door. He didn’t move. Ray’s heart thumped loudly as he stood on the porch watching in horror.

No further activity came from the building for a few minutes. When something did happen, it was the man in black emerging out of the front door. He walked out shortly and examined the husband’s body. He turned the man onto his back and lifted him under his shoulders. He dragged the husband back into the house. Within seconds, the man in black left the house again. This time, he ran stealthily across the cul-de-sac towards Ray. The man held his left arm across his body. Ray sat back down in his chair, hoping the shadows of the house would conceal him. Ray didn’t move. If the man would see him, Ray would be the next victim. But the man took no notice of him. He ran to the corner of the house to Ray’s right. He disappeared into the darkness. Ray leaned to the right to peer after the man. What he saw stung his eyes.

. . .

Sweat dripped from Ray’s brow into his right eye. “Dag-nabbit,” Ray muttered. He wiped his face as he walked down his porch steps to the right side of his house. He peered around the corner expecting to see a man with a black jacket on. Instead, the sun touched his nicely mowed grass waving gently in the wind. He turned slowly and walked back to his porch. He stood with his back to the neighborhood, glaring down at the chair he had just been sitting in. Ray walked towards his screen door and went inside.

In the house, he walked through his neat living room furnished with a cloth couch and a glass table. He smiled as he paused. He loved that table. During the summers, his wife used to put a big pot full of roses on the glass top. Sitting on the couch, the smell of freshly baked cookies would mix with the aroma of the flowers. Moving on, he passed through the kitchen which brandished a refurbished oven and stove. The tile floor had never needed replacing. He walked through a door on the left that led to his bedroom.

In his bedroom he had a neatly made pillowtop queen size mattress. He missed the days when his wife used to occupy the bed with him. He stood and stared at the bed for a moment, then shook his head to regain his focus. He walked towards his closet. He would have to find something presentable to wear over to his neighbors. Someone had to warn them of the man in black.

Ray had very few clothes hanging in the closet. He looked at the floor, hoping to find some decently clean shirt to put on. No clothing laid on the floor. He cursed himself for being so clean. He reached up and pulled down the only clothing still hanging in the closet. It was a zip up jacket with pockets at the belly. He pondered where all of his brightly colored jackets were. He wasn’t too concerned. He knew that if what he saw could come true, he had to tell the neighbors. It was his obligation to the neighborhood to save them. He would be the hero.

Another shiver ran down his spine. He was thrilled.

He left his bedroom, crossed through the kitchen and left the living area onto the porch. He paused in the shade from the hot summer day. He took a deep breath in. Time to be a hero.

He ran across the cul-de-sac to his neighbor's house. He made sure to stay on the sidewalk to avoid trampling the overly cared for grass. He walked up to the grand double doors, shaking his hands in anticipation. This was it. He reached up and pushed a button to the left of the doors, setting off the doorbell.

. . .

Carol was watering her house plants when the doorbell rang. She set the watering bucket down in frustration, glaring at the Chinese Evergreen her stepmother insisted on her having. Maybe the pot holding the plant would accidentally fall off the counter later today. She set the jug down and walked to the door.

She was disgusted at who stood there.

Ray Grossen shifted his weight from foot to foot on her porch. He stared unblinkingly at her. He looked more wild than usual. “Hello Ray,” Carol muttered as she looked at her nails. She couldn’t stand looking at him. He was dirty. He had been over before, oftentimes asking for something silly. She was not about to give him anything. He should get a job.

She watched as he smiled from ear to ear, revealing his gnarled brown teeth. He let out a slight laugh as he said, “Hi.”

“What do you want?” she asked, hoping this would end soon. She didn’t need an answer to the question. This wasn’t the first time that she and Ray had argued about his house. The last time she went, she had taken matters into her own hands and went to his house.

She remembered walking across the asphalt on a cold winter day. The cold made her more bitter than normal. She should have sent her husband. For years her kids had wanted a pool. She wanted nothing more than to give them what they wanted, but they didn’t have room in their backyard for a pool after the tennis courts were installed. Her kids had cried for hours that night when she said they couldn’t have a pool. She wouldn’t let that happen again.

Ray’s dilapidated house needed to go anyway. It was an eyesore for everyone who came to the neighborhood. His wooden house was falling apart. In his yard he had piles of garbage bags clumped together into what he affectionately referred to as his “hedge”. In the cold of winter, the dead brown grass revealed a yard that hadn’t been cared for in decades. His direct neighbors had erected fences to prevent the grass from disturbing their lawns.

As she walked across the asphalt on that winter's day, Ray sat in his chair staring at her house like he normally did. She got to the stairs leading up his porch and stared at him, hands on her hips. “Listen Ray, you have to go. Your house is a mess and a hazard to your health, and the mental health of the neighborhood. Your hedges are just a pile of garbage, your grass is nasty, and your roof is caving in. And who knows what the inside of your house looks like.” She paused, observing his reaction to her attack. He stared intently at a board holding up the porch roof. “In fact,” she started, “could I take a look inside your house?” She knew that if she got in there and it was in a bad enough state, she could convince someone to tear the building down. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. That was a green light for Carol. She thought too highly of herself to care about his possible objections. She was the neighborhood watch for Pete’s sake, this was her job.

She gasped as she walked into the smoky living room. A cloth couch sat along the wall. The stuffing had long ago been ripped out. The cushions were deflated. A table sat in front of the couch that had once had glass in it. A few sharp fragments still jutted out from the frame. She proceeded into the kitchen. The tile floor was half missing, revealing a green mold growing peacefully. A gas stove top rusted where it sat, not having been used for at least five years. The smell of rotten food spread from a fridge she assumed hadn’t been plugged in for years. She decided to proceed to the bedroom.

In the room, a single size mattress sat on the ground with nothing covering it. Stains covered the once white surface. Carol assumed that was from Ray’s sweat and filth. The floor was littered with trash and old ripped clothing. It was apparent Ray had never had a wife to teach him how to clean.

The most shocking thing in the bedroom was the closet. She opened it expecting to find clothing stacked on the ground halfway up the wall. Instead a single jacket was hanging from a rack. It looked clean, basically unused. The dark gray jacket summarized the feeling of the house, dark and depressing. Walking out of the building, she gagged as a rat ran across the floor. She shoved open the screen door to exit the building.

Ray hadn’t moved. His expression hadn’t changed. She didn’t even know if a spirit sat behind those eyes. He looked gone.

She knelt in front of him, putting her at his eye level. “Look, if you don’t do something about this, I will.” She paused for a few moments, giving him a mother’s stern look. He didn’t blink.

The face she was looking at now was totally different. Ray was smiling and talking about the nice weather and such. He did neither of these things months ago.

She folded her arms trying to hide the goosebumps her body was making in alarm. Bumps also formed on her shins under her jeans. “Look Ray, if you have nothing important to say, I am extremely busy and…”

“No, wait,” he said as Carol started to close the door. He pushed forward, stopping the large wooden door from swinging shut. “I think you are in danger.” He stared at her frantically.

Carol looked at him inquisitively. “Ray, what do you mean?”

“I don’t know for sure,” he paused, “but I saw a man come here and kill your family.”

Carol gasped and backed away from the door. “Ray, I don’t know what you are trying to do, but it won’t work. Leave my house immediately. Tomorrow, I am having someone come look at the necessary preparations to get rid of your house.” She slammed the door shut on Ray’s face. Carol leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. She was startled. She opened her eyes and walked to the kitchen. Resting her hands on the counter, she considered calling her husband.

Months back, when they had tried to get rid of Ray altogether, they found out that he owned more land than just what his house sat on. Through a discovery of ownership records at the courthouse, apparently Ray owned the ground that the whole neighborhood sat on. How no one had ever realized this or gotten permission to build on the land no one knew. But the game had changed. They couldn’t get rid of Ray, but he could get rid of them. They hid the documents knowing they couldn’t destroy them. If no one had discovered them in the last decade, they would remain hidden. So Carol gave Ray empty threats.

Outside the house, Ray walked back to his home angry. All he ever tried to do was help the community, but no one ever let him. He walked back to his porch and sat on his chair. He reached down and picked up his water glass to take a drink. He noticed the rust in the water as it slipped down his throat. He coughed a little, and lifted the glass to inspect the contents. Seeing the rust, his face distorted into an evil glare. With his right hand, he threw the glass straight down onto the porch, sending shards of glass everywhere.

He glared at Carol’s house. All she had ever wanted was more. Ray did his best. All he ever heard were insults. “Ray is so dirty, Ray is a madman.” Well right now Ray was mad. He had to prove he was good.

His eyebrows suddenly raised up as an idea popped into his head. He decided that every night, he would wait behind some bushes for the killer. When the killer finally came, Ray would kill him out and show Carol. Then they would have to believe him.

Ray’s eyebrows dropped again into a look of sad understanding. Carol was trying to get rid of him. He might only have tonight to protect this family. He resolved that tonight he would give it all his effort to save this family. Ray smiled, knowing he could be the one to save this family. He sat on the porch till the sun disappeared. As the last bit of light faded, Ray stood up, and went into his house. He found a large cutting knife, his weapon against the attacker. He went back outside.

He breathed in the cool summer air. This was the air of change. Tonight, Ray would be the hero. They would beg him to stay. He went down his porch steps out into his yard. As he stepped onto the asphalt road, the cool breeze sent a chill down Ray’s spine. He zipped up his jacket zipper, realizing how dark the jacket looked at night. The attacker would never see him.

He headed down the cul-de-sac sidewalk on the side of the street opposite of his house. When standing on Ray’s porch, Carol's house had a fence emerging from the right side of the house. It ran parallel to a sidewalk for twenty feet. Running along between the fence and the sidewalk, a nice row of bushes grew. Ray would take shelter behind them till the killer came.

Ray got into position. He initially rested on his knees, ready to spring at any moment. After thirty minutes went by, he repositioned into a seat. Ray sat there for three more hours. The temperature went down steadily. Ray supposed it was almost one in the morning when he stuck his head out of the bushes. He sighed loudly, and retracted his head back. He dozed for the next two hours. When he woke, he was furious. This was his chance to save the day, and the day didn’t need saving!

Ray’s face practically glowed with excitement at his next thought. He realized all he had to do was scare the family into believing what Ray had said. He would make some loud noises, bang on the door, and leave his knife on the doorstep. This way, the family would have to believe that Ray was right! He would protect them after all.

Ray emerged from the sidewalk and walked quietly towards Carol’s house. As he walked, several doubts entered into his head. What if he was seen? What if they still didn’t believe and sent Ray away? Ray realized that the problem was always Carol. She was the force behind the hammer. Anything that ever seemed to go wrong in Ray’s life directly correlated back to that woman. The more he thought about her the more he realized he hated her. A grim look took over Ray’s face as he got closer to the house.

Maybe they didn’t need saving like he thought. The spoiled family could probably pay money to be resurrected, why did they need him? As his feet touched the concrete of the driveway, Ray finally remembered that day a few months back when Carol visited his home. He had tried desperately to remember any detail that had happened that day. He had a tendency to zone out. He remembered the evil things she had said to him. She had entered his house without his permission!

Tears rolled down Ray’s cheeks. A few spilled off his jaw onto his jacket. He looked down to wipe them off. He gasped. He had never realized that his jacket looked totally black at night. He looked around at the white garage he stood next to, and the yard he stood in. He looked back at his own house and for an instant thought he saw himself sitting in his chair staring back at him.

He realized the only way to save the family, was to eliminate the family. He peered around the garage corner at the large wooden doors. He approached the doors. They were locked. Ray punched the glass surrounding the door with his left hand. It was so quiet, he hardly heard the noise himself. Blood trickled down his left arm. He opened the door and walked in. The kids would have to go first, they would make the most noise.