The terror never ends: Two more short scary stories

The Affair

Jeremy knew his wife Gail was having an affair. The only information he’d discovered about the man she was seeing was his last name, Chamberlain, and he didn’t really care to know anything else about him. The marriage was over and he and Gail were merely going through the motions.

Clues started to appear that Gail’s relationship was turning sour. Her face betrayed bruises and she was making and taking frantic calls at all hours. Jeremy kept his distance from the drama in her life, feeling that whatever problems she was having she brought on herself.

Then Gail disappeared. Jeremy came home from his office to find the house empty, which wasn’t unusual, but when Gail didn’t return for two days, he started to become concerned. She hadn’t packed any clothes for a trip. No note or text. Another 24 hours and he’d call the police.

The following morning, Jeremy was driving to work when the flashing lights of a police cruiser burst on behind him. Agitated, he pulled over and lowered the window for a burly, grim officer.

 “Morning. I pulled you over because I noticed your trunk had popped open.”

“Really?”

“Come back and take a look, sir.”

Jeremy got out and followed the cop to the rear of the car where the trunk was indeed open and to his shock, inside was the bloody, lifeless body of Gail in a fetal position. Cuffed and dazed, Jeremy leaned against the cruiser as the cop called it in.

“This is Officer Chamberlain, requesting back up and an ambulance.”

The Call

The floor was buzzing like an angry hive. It was mid-afternoon on Monday, the busiest day of the week, and 40 callers were chattering into their headsets trying to convince bored housewives that a three-day spa experience at their local Healthy World Retreat would change their lives.

I was one of those voices, following our tired script, trying to sell people something they didn’t need and couldn’t afford. Unfortunately for me, a master’s degree in biology was useless here, or anywhere else for that matter, and I struggled daily with my anger over having to work at a totally useless job just to survive. 

Tiredly, I dialed a number. A woman answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Dan from Healthy World Retreats calling, how are you today?” 

“You don’t sound very well, Dan.”

“Good. I understand your time is valuable so I’ll make this brief.”

“You know you deserve better.”

“Life is stressful, but we can help.”

“I hear the anger behind your words. Who can blame you?”

“Let’s talk about—“

“What a miserable nightmare your life is?”

“I’m just doing what I need to do.”

“You don’t have to pretend for me. You’re mad as hell. You’ve been screwed.”

“I know, but—“

“Did you bring it? I think it’s time to finally be a man and make someone pay.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said, reaching deep into my briefcase. “You’re right as usual.”