Hollowcave Shorts

This story is recommended for those aged 18+ due to reasons for intense violence

Contains: Violence, Gore, Censored Profanity, Dark Themes/Concepts

Any Character Name in this story was made up or randomly generated.

Any likeness to characters of real life was unintentional and should not be taken offensively.

This story was made for entertainment. Please enjoy the following.

“Detective Castle!” Valentine called. He had papers in his hand as he marched across the lobby. He wore his navy-blue uniform and had his badge chained to him like a set of dog tags. He slammed them on Castle’s desk with a noticeable anger in his eyes. “What makes you think you can take this case from Fisher?!” He asked.

Castle tapped his pen on the desk and nodded. “He let me have it, Valentine.” Castle answered.

“You can’t handle this type of case.” Valentine told him.

“He’s the only one who can.” Fisher argued. He was a black man wearing a swat’s vest with a radio and gun holstered to his hips. “As your deputy, I have to assign cases where I trust them the most.”

“Not this one, Fisher.” Valentine countered. “I’m restricting access to the bodies. From the both of you. I’ll be handling the case myself until further notice, do you both understand?” Castle and Fisher stared at him. Ire in their eyes. How dare you not let Castle on this case was silently written on their faces. Still, their commissioner didn’t care. “Glad we got that settled.” He said as he scooped the papers back up. He walked away after throwing the papers in the shredder.

“How am I supposed to handle this case without looking at the bodies?” Castle asked.

“You’ll find a way.” Fisher answered.

Bang! He was panting. His heart was rushing. He squeezed his chest as the body in front of him collapsed as easily as the man’s will deciding it was so. The gun fell from his grip and tears formed in his eyes. “Why didn’t you just leave me alone!” He screamed. He dropped down and cried into the palms of his hands.

Knock! Knock! It was at his door. “Hey, Kyle!” Someone called. “I heard a noise! I just wanted to make sure everything was alright!”

“Don’t come in!” Kyle panicked. The adrenaline started pumping faster. He could barely catch his breath as he struggled to drag the still-bleeding body.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in?!” The neighbor asked.

“No! Just go away!” Kyle replied. He tried to shove the body into his pantry. Pushing it more and more, until it started to make slushing sounds and squirt blood out the hole in its chest.

“Kyle, it sounds like something really bad is happening.” The neighbor insisted.

“Nothing is happening! I’m fine! Please!” Kyle panicked. He started sobbing uncontrollably. He heard the rattle at the door. His neighbor trying to come in. Kyle swiftly picked the gun back up. Tears fell from his eyes as his neighbor came in to see the bloody kitchen. Red stained the titles, the body halfway in the pantry, and a gun in Kyle’s hand. At first, Kyle pointed it at his neighbor, paralyzing the old man with fear before shakingly turning the gun around.

“Wait, Kyle!”

He could feel every emotion he had left fleeting away from him. All his joy, his anger, his sadness, his pain. It all melted away with the self-deceiving belief that there might be something better than this in the end. He started coughing. “All!” He started. “All I wanted!” Cough! Cough! “All I needed was for him to give me the respect I deserved!”

“Kyle, don’t do it.” The neighbor pleaded. “I can help you. I can tell the police I did it. Kyle, I don’t have much to live for these days. Let me help.”

“So, I can be stupid again?!” Kyle screamed. “So, I can make the same mistake of falling for some guy who wouldn’t ever love me?! You hated me for being gay! Why are you pretending like you care?!”

“Kyle.” The neighbor nodded his head. “I’m sorry. I-I was just raised one way. I don’t hate you, Kyle. You were always a good kid, and it was never my place to judge.”

“You say that NOW!” Kyle shouted at him. “Now that I have a gun to my head, you want to be nice to me?”

The old man had a tear roll down his cheek. “It’s that I didn’t know how to be nice, Kyle, please you don’t deserve this!”

“He beat me!” Kyle pointed at the body. “He raped me!” He paused as more tears came from his face. “You were right.” He said it a lot colder. He could feel the pressure he was setting on the trigger. Acceptance mixed itself with his guilt. He could see every mistake he’s made. He could see the old man run at him, all in slow motion as a light took over. Every sound disappeared. The world started spinning as he saw it. “I am God’s mistake” were the last words to come out of his mouth before the Bang!

“KYLE!” His neighbor cried out. He caught the body in his hands with tears running down his face. “Kyle. Kyle, come wake up. He begged.

An hour later, his house was being searched through. The police weren’t told whether they were trying to find something that could make the victims appear as criminals or if they were looking for something to help ease the pain of the families. Castle searched every part of the house, looking for anything that could be connected to Halloween night.

“You said that it became an abusive relationship?” Castle asked.

The old man was sitting on the steps of his porch. “Yes.” He answered.

“The partner, James Davis. Have you seen him before?” Castle pulled a notebook a pen out of his pocket. “Have you known they were in any type of relationship beforehand?”

“I don’t know much.” The old man admitted. “I never bothered to ask. I didn’t want any part of what they were doing.” The old man shook. “I didn’t even invite them to church. Just tried to avoid them as much as I could till, I heard that gunshot.”

“Did you hear anything else?” Castle asked.

“Not anything I didn’t already say.” The old man admitted. “Just came in when I heard what sounded like blood. I prayed I was wrong. I couldn’t save him.”

Castle knelt to eye level with the old man. “You did the best you can.” Castle assured him.

The old man found it hard to believe. Had he been different? Had he not followed his God’s guidance so closely or followed it closely enough to be fully acceptive? “Have I?” He asked the detective.

The night cruelly ripped the sky away. The stars were covered by sheets of darkness that were once white on their blue canvas. The old man was in his bedroom, still sobbing. He had a picture of his late wife still on his nightstand before throwing it against a wall. Smash! The glass shattered and the old man yelled in his pain.

“Why God!” He shouted as he looked at the night sky out his window. “Why did you bring the boy to me this late in life?!” HaHaHa! He heard laughter from a distance. It was somewhere in his house. The old man wiped the tears from his eyes. “Who’s there?!” He called. He yanked his drawer and pulled out an old silver revolver. The old man walked out of his bedroom with the gun pointed firmly in front of him with both hands. His grip held the gun tightly, even as he heard the HaHaHa! Again.

Slam! It sounded like the fridge door shutting. The old man peeked out the corner with his finger on the trigger. Clash Clash Clash! Several cans fell out his cabinets. It was a dead end and there wasn’t anyone he could see. Flush! He quickly turned towards the bathroom with the gun ready to fire in his hands.

“Come on out.” He whispered. He nudged his bathroom door open with his foot and the gun pointed center down before kicking it fully open. He could see his medicine bottles emptied down the running sink. He turned it off and then looked up at the mirror with writing all over it. YOU KILLED HIM!!! Written in red letters. HaHaHa!

The laughter came from his room. The fear and guilt took over his confidence. He looked to his front door and his first instinct was to run. HaHaHa! The laughter grew louder. The old man swallowed his fear. His breath was shaky, and his focus was deteriorating as he swore, he could hear it echo. HhAaHhAaHhAa! It was bouncing off the walls and he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

He opened the door to his bedroom. He saw the glass had spread across the floor. The picture of his late wife had been hung from the ceiling fan and dripping some red liquid that old man could only guess was blood. “Do you like it?” A voice asked. The old man searched around him. His heart pounding. He could swear he was about to have a heart attack. “Imagine if you were nice to him.” The voice said.

The old man turned. He could see the horrific red mask of what could only be a heartless creature. He pointed the gun at him, but it felt like his heart had froze. He couldn’t breathe. The unholy image of what reminded him of the devil stood in front of him. “W-w-w-ho a-are.” He couldn’t finish his question.

“I’m your God.” It said. “Do you believe in me?” The old violently shook in while standing paralyzed. The heartless creature walked behind him. “I heard everything you said.”

“I-I-I!”

“You questioned me.” The heartless creature said sarcastically offended. “After putting that child down. What made you better than him?”

Tears flowed like waterfalls down the old man’s cheeks. He couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound like an excuse. He couldn’t tell if this was actually God or not. What could he say that wasn’t a lie? “Please.” The old man begged.

“You’re not going to Heaven.” The heartless creature said. The old man could see the knife in the creature’s hand from the shards of glass on the floor. “I’ll be waiting for you in Hell.”

Splat!

Knock! Knock! It was early morning. “Hey, dad!” His son called. “I heard what happened yesterday!” Knock! Knock! “Dad! At least pick up your phone!” Knock! Knock! “Dad!” Click! “Dad?”

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