Screeches

Saturday, August 2

Unionville Police Station

"Jeff, I'm Detective Morano, and this is Detective Johnson," she introduced.

"Jeff, I understand there is something you would like to confess today. I appreciate you being honest and willing to come forward. The officer that you originally spoke to brought us in," Detective Moreno said in a gentle, non-threatening way.

As she was speaking, all Jeff could hear was the screech echoing in his head. The screech that hadn't let him sleep the last four days and he looked like it. He had dark circles under his eyes, pale color, unkempt hair, and almost a week's worth of stubble on his usually clean-shaven face.

"Jeff? Jeff. Tell us what happened. The more you communicate with us, the better it will look to a prosecutor and judge. Do you understand?" asked Detective Johnson.

He was nervous now and was shaking his foot, partly out of habit, partly out of nerves.

"I understand," he replied meekly. "I'll tell you everything. Here goes."

Tuesday, July 29

Shifty's, a local bar, about seven miles outside of town on Route 20

"Jeff man, are you sure you are okay to drive?" asked Dylan

"Honey let me call you a cab," said Jackie, the bartender, as she reached for his keys off the bar next to him.

Jeff snatched up the keys and stood up from his barstool.

"I'm good, I swear," he announced, "I'll take the backroad into town, and no one will be out at this time of night anyway.

His words were slurred slightly, and as he walked towards the door, Jackie wondered if she should call the police. She will forever regret that decision.

Jeff started his truck, took a couple of big breaths, and pulled out of the parking lot, hitting the curb on the way out. After a couple of miles, he opened all his truck windows, hoping the fresh air would sober him up. He took his eyes off of the road for a second, trying to turn the radio on. He turned his eyes back to the road just in time to see a large mass in front of him. It happened so fast. He saw the object, heard a loud crash, and whatever he hit went up and over the hood of his truck and rolled off the side. He screamed, slammed on the brakes, and screeched to a stop. "Please be a deer or bear, please. God, I will turn my life over to you if you just let this be an animal," he prayed out loud. He walked back to where the object was struck. After walking about 20ft, he saw the mass in a small ditch on the side of the road. When he approached the crumpled mass, it became clear that it was a person. He rolled it over and saw an older man, very clearly dead. He felt the saliva build up in his mouth, and his stomach heaved. He couldn't hold it in and vomited into the brush along the road. He dropped to his knees and started sobbing. Just then, he heard a loud screech that pierced the night air.

As he looked around to try and determine what made that noise, he began to think to himself that no one saw. No cars had come by, and they wouldn't at this time of the night. His truck didn't have any significant damage besides blood on his quarter panel and a small dent in the hood. Easily fixable because he is a mechanic with a shop that he lived above. It was a horrible accident, he thought to himself. He noticed a barn owl perched on the split rail fence as he walked back to the truck. The barn owl locked eyes with him and stared. Its long pale face with deep black eyes unnerved him. As he got to the truck and slammed the door shut, the owl screeched loudly. Jeff heard it and looked back. The only witness was the owl. He got in his truck and screeched away.

When he arrived home, he pulled the truck right into one of the garage bays and went upstairs to his flat. He would deal with the truck tomorrow; It was Wednesday and had no new vehicles. He called his two mechanics and told them to take a couple of days off, with pay, and the shop would be closed for a few days. He didn't even take his clothes off before he crashed on his bed. Every time he closed his eyes, though, he saw the owl's face. And that screech that filled the air, fresh on his mind, didn't help. Eventually, the alcohol got the best of him, so he fell asleep after not too long.

Wednesday, July 30

Jeff's Auto Body Shop

Waking up in the morning, the first thought that came to his mind was the accident the night before. He checked the local news and searched the internet. He was trying to figure out if the body had been found yet. At that time, it had not been found. He grabbed his thermos of coffee and made his way down to the shop.

He started by wiping the blood off the truck's quarter panel. From the drive home, blood had traveled down the side and into the side rails. He cleaned it all. Then he surveyed the damage done to the hood. He decided it wasn't too bad, and he would hammer out the hood. While working on the hood, he noticed a crack in the windshield that he hadn't seen the night before. He decided he would call Safelite tomorrow and tell them a rock flew up and hit his windshield. The truck was cleaned up and fixed by the end of the day, other than the cracked windshield. He gathered up all of the rags he used to clean, including his shirt that had gotten some blood on it, and tossed them in the fiery burn barrel. He lit a joint, and standing by the fire, he inhaled deeply, held the smoke in his lungs, then exhaled. He felt his anxiety about the whole situation lighten up a bit. Just then, a screech echoed off of the building. He started looking around, and there was a barn owl perched on a low-lying branch toward the back of the yard. He wondered out loud if this was the same owl. No way, he thought. The owl screeched again. He tried to shoo it away, but the closer he got, the more the owl screeched. He picked up a small stick to shoo it away, and as he was walking towards it, it lifted off the branch and headed right towards Jeff. He ducked and covered his face as the owl swooped over him, one of its talons scratching the top of his head.

For the next three nights, the owl resided on the branch in the backyard. Jeff had a clear view from his bedroom window, the owl's eyes fixed on Jeff through the window. The owl screeched all night long, each night. He couldn't sleep. He heard it over the earbuds he wore to bed. He heard it over the tv and over the stereo system. There was no escaping this owl. It was like the owl was screaming for the person who had died, drawing attention to the man that had killed him.

Thursday, July 31

This day brought the news Jeff was dreading. The body was found, and it dominated the news. He was an elderly farmer, out looking for a prize goat that had gotten out. The force of the impact had caused his muck boots and glasses to fly off. Those items and a gold pocket watch that was a family heirloom still had not been found yet. His name was Ed, and he had a wife, three grown sons who helped him run the farm, and seven grandkids. There were no clues, no information, and no suspects.

He was no longer just a body on the side of the road; he was now a person with a life and a family. Jeff sobbed for an hour.

He was snapped out of his sobbing when he heard that now familiar screech of the animal who was stalking him. He looked out his window, and there it was, on the same branch it had been the previous three nights. He went out into the backyard with a broom. As he made his way over to the tree that the owl perched on, the owl extended its wings, and he heard the swoosh of the wings as it flew towards him. He had something dangling from its talons. Jeff ducked and covered his face again, and the owl dropped what it was carrying right at Jeff's feet. A bloody pair of eyeglasses.

Friday, August 1

After another night of screeching and another night of no sleep, Jeff's mental state deteriorated. The owl was there every time he was home, spying on him. Stalking him. Screeching as if to say, "Here he is, the murderer."

He hadn't eaten in days, hadn't slept in days, and hadn't left his flat since the "accident". He had been avoiding all his friends because they knew he drove home that night when he shouldn't have. It wouldn't be long before one of them talks to the cops. He kept his lights off at home and kept his truck in the garage bay.

The owl was back on his perch, screeching louder this time. Jeff had enough. He was going to throw something at it to make it go away. He got to the back steps, and before he could find anything to throw, he noticed them. At the bottom of the steps was a bloody pair of muck boots. He felt his vision closing in from his peripherals and had to sit down to catch his breath. He felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't believe what had been happening. Either he was losing his mind, or this owl was tormenting him. Whichever it was, his guilt had morphed into something unbearable. He decided he would turn himself in the next day. The owl didn't come back that night, but his mental state kept him from sleeping. He was huddled against the headboard of his bed, rocking back and forth. "I'll turn myself in tomorrow. I'll tell them everything," he said over and over again.

When he woke up the next day, he showered, gathered the boots and the glasses to put in the truck, and got ready to go to the police station. When he got in his truck, he noticed something hanging off of his antenna. He got out to see what it was, and his blood ran cold again. It was a gold pocket watch.

*****

Jeff did, in fact, turn himself in and told them everything. He gave them the victim's possessions. He was charged with vehicular manslaughter, driving while intoxicated, and leaving the scene of an accident. He pled guilty to all charges.

Within three days of his incarceration, he was moved to a criminal mental hospital. The reason? He heard screeches all the time when no one else did. His tales of being stalked by an owl didn't help his cause. To this day, he still hears the screeches in his head and sees the owl every night.

No one else had ever seen or heard it.

Thank you for reading my stories! Here are a few more if you would like to check them out. I appreciate all reads and hearts.