2019-07-11 - Sympathy for Mr. Murray

Itzhak’s dream might be a little weird. Weird due to the sound of the music that he’s hearing as the door to the Murray House opens in front of him. It’s the song he was playing for Irvriya. Much to his surprise the scene in front of him is not of the ragged house that he’s seen.

It’s the house in all of its former glory. There’s fresh plants that fill the house with a familiar scent. A finch sits in a cage and chirps lovely like.

Seated on the couch is a man that is covered in blood and at his feet lay the dead bodies of a small girl probably about Amelia’s age. You can’t really tell due to her face being caved in. There is a woman that has been killed not far from her. She lies face down, only her dark hair pooling around her along with the blood that’s already cooled. She still has the hatchet buried in her back.

“You’ve been the first person in this town to hurt me since another little one did. I’ve got to give you that sir.” the man's voice sounds on the verge of familiar, but not quite. He rises now, starting to take on the skeletal form that Itzhak probably recognizes. “You come into a man's home and you hurt him and take his children. That can’t be left unchallenged.” he tells him as he goes over and pulls the hatchet from the woman's back.

The skeletal form shifts a bit and licks the blood from the blade, “When you least expect it, when you’re happy and I’m but a shadow in your mind...you’ll get what’s coming.” he smiles through black and bloody teeth. “That’s a promise.” it whispers as it starts to fade.

The house starts to rot, so do the bodies. The smell sticking in the man's nose as he watches it. A cold chill settles in, chilling him to the bone.

Itzhak would still be able to feel the chill that settled in when he woke up.

Shaking and sweating, Itzhak claws himself awake. The first thing he does is scrabble over the edge of the bed, grab the trash can and throw up. Several times, until his entire body aches with the convulsions.

Finally he sags back, gasping for breath, slick with sweat. He groans. Well, more of a whimper, really. We'll call it a groan for dignity's sake.

He opens his eyes to the water-stained ceiling. "Ya killed 'em, ya son of a bitch," he whispers. "They ain't yours. Never yours."

The finch chirping in the dream. Itzhak had felt a horrible swell and twist when he saw it.

"Finch." He swallows dry. "Keep your filthy hands off her, you hear me." His voice is only a rough rasp. He doesn't quite know he's talking back to the thing who spoke in his dream.

Knock knock knock comes a nervous rapping and a tapping at his chamber door. "Uhm...Itzhak? Are you okay?" calls a woman's voice. Stephanie. A young divorcee with two kids, she owns the house. Itzhak had thought there was no way in hell she'd rent to him, alone in the house with little kids, but she'd done it without hesitating.

Itzhak lets his eyes close. Christ. He can't yell, his throat is a wreck. He'll have to get up. Which he should do anyway because everything is a mess. He hauls his sorry carcass out of bed, across the basement apartment, and up the stairs. But he doesn't open the door. "Yeah."

He sounds like he gargled glass. Kind of feels like it, too. "'m fine," he adds on. It doesn't sound reassuring at all. He leans his forehead against the cool smooth paint of the door.

"Just, you were shouting," Stephanie says, low and worried.

Itzhak blinks slow. "What'd I shout?"

"I don't know. I couldn't make it out. Maybe in Yiddish? It didn't seem like English."

Itzhak grunts. "Don' worry about it. Go back to bed."

"O-okay. If you're sure."

She pads quietly away. One of the kids asks something. Stephanie soothes whoever it is. Great, so he woke up the entire house. You're welcome, teachers, for how the kids act tomorrow.

The kids. Finch. That little girl Murray took. Murray's own wife and daughter dead under a hatchet. Itzhak's stomach roils again. He bites the back of his wrist, breathing harsh through his nose, until the nausea fades.

His wrist has a nice deep set of toothmarks in it when he finally lets go.

"We'll fight you. I swear to God we'll fight you." Itzhak makes promises in the dark.

Then he limps back down the stairs and gets in the shower.