Dirk gets irritated when he receives call from the complete stranger at late night, who tells him just trivial things, but then he gets to the point: He says that there is a corpse lying in front of Dirk's door. The killer? It is mysterious caller - Dirk immediately concludes. The corpse? Dirk's best friend Dennis. What has this psychopath done to his friend and why? From then on, this caller does not leave Dirk no longer alone and drives him almost insane - a bloodthirsty and disturbing madness!
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Kay Schornstheimer was born in 1982 in Mainz/ Germany.
His first short stories he published on his author blog "PULP LETTERS" that existed from 2008 till 2014.
His first novel DOPE69 has been released in 2011 by BoD.
Besides his work as an author, he is in the Rhine-Main area / Germany, a famous DJ in the local rock scene.
The Act and all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
João Carlos (Mr. White) Oliveira Matos
Based on the short story:
By Kay Schornstheimer, published in 2008 on www.pulp-letters.com
Frank (called) Bongartz
Sometimes I wish I am taking a sharp carpet knife and putting it between my big toe and the one next to it. Then I am pulling it out hard and slipping it through to the end.
I dream of unfolding myself from my shelf and slipping away.
Finally free and untroubled!
Great idea, isn´t it?
Searching for Help
Incorrectly connected (How it all happened...)
Searching Help II
The end is not over yet...
I am standing in front of Rita's door.
I need her help, but I think I will not knock.
But what alternatives do I have?
My best friend is dead; there are no other friends left.
I have no siblings.
And my parents? Forget them!
I do not have anyone.
Rita and I are not together for more than four months. We broke up on good terms. I accepted her desire of separation without making a problem out of it. We know each other from our childhood onwards, and she could always rely on me.
So why would not she help me?
"Overcome it, and do it finally" I say to myself.
I must do it. Just do it - damn it, do it!
I knock. Rita opens the door, we look at each other, and she closes the door again.
"Go away, Dirk!" she screams through the closed door.
I did not imagine our meeting will be like this, but I cannot blame her for that. I would also do the same at the first moment.
"Come on, let me in Rita… I beg you! "Go or I will call the police!" she screams hysterically.
"Why the police?"
"Do you want to muck me around?"
An eligible question, I have to admit. I cannot give her a reason why should not she call the police.
But she could at least listen to me and what I have to say.
"That was not me! Please believe me!"
"You went and left him lying there. Do you know that they will find you? The Criminal Investigation Department came to me and asked about you."
So far, the investigation on me looks like this: they have already checked out my past. They know all the details about my life. Which school I have attended, what is my occupation, who are my friends, what my relationship status is, how much money do I have on my account, whether I got speeding ticket, simply everything. I feel exposed.
"I was tricked. You have to believe me! I am innocent! Could I otherwise come here?"
She does not say anything.
"Rita, I do not know where I should go. You are the only one who can help me." After I had made this statement, I immediately realized that it is the truth. I know that it is my last chance to prove my innocence.
I am making a break to carefully think about what I should say next. At the same moment, the door behind me is opening. One of Rita's neighbors is coming in the hallway from her apartment. It is Mrs. Schneider, an elderly lady who has already reached the age of retirement and lives alone. I know her more or less by sight from the time I was living there. Rita does not like her because she has always complained about alleged noise and other things.
"What in God´s name is going on here, what does this mean?" she rumbles.
I became angry and before turning around I moved my hands from Rita's door.
"Fuck you bitch, before I tear your head off and puke in your neck!" I shouted at Rita's neighbor.
Shocked from what I told her, she immediately went back to her apartment. I hear she locked the door twice and put the chain on the door.
"And what are you expecting from me now, to let you in? “ Rita asks me. Although she probably liked this play with her neighbor. But even I am shocked by my aggressiveness. I do not actually act like that at all.
"Shit ...“I curse quietly to myself. I turn back to her apartment door.
"Simply go, Dirk, disappear from here!"
"You know that I didn't do it, you know me. You told me I am your favorite guy in the world, and I have never done something that disapproves it."
This sentence brings a moment of silence.
"Let me please in, and I will tell you everything about what actually happened."
"You want to talk about it?"
"Then start talking. But you are not going to cross the door, it is clear"!
"And your neighbor"?
"I do not care".
"You cannot let me in? “ I implore her to note how uncomfortable to me it is to stand here.
"You are trying in vain, Dirk," she says with a mixture of fear and anger in her voice.
I sat down with my back against her door and leaned on it.
"Are you going to start talking soon?"
I can clearly understand that she rejects me. And I cannot even blame her. Care from her side is the last thing is can expect now. The man she used to know is wiped out because of the recent events.
She was taken to a vague memory that had never corresponded to the truth. This new image that she has about me, is the same as that of an evil monster. She finds everything overwhelming, even listening to me but she refuses any kind of escape.
She is a prisoner in her own apartment. In her small two-room apartment, without balcony, on the third floor. She cannot even jump from the window without being seriously hurt by falling on cemented floor. Despite the last option she is left with, namely to call the police, she does nothing.
Instead, she throws me a bone in the form of a small chance to prove her that I am really innocent.
But rather of being grateful to her, I get even more angry and frustrated by her behavior.
"It is OK ... God!" The anger in my voice can only make the situation worse. I would like to jump and cross her door. But it would make the image of evil monster even stronger. Thus I decide to continue talking and, if possible, to sound resignedly. "It was on Thursday, and everything has started with my cellphone."
"With your cellphone?" she asks confused.
"Yes, with my cellphone. Please shut up now and listen to me." I am still irritated and annoyed, but in a quieter tone of voice just to make her know that I don´t want to be interrupted.
"So it was Thursday and ..."
(How it all happened...)
Dennis comes for a visit, we spend our time drinking alcohol, smoking dope and playing
And we pose important questions to ourselves: Is Elvis still alive, and if yes, is he in nursing center?
Was Jesus black?
Who is Gobi Todic?
Is the number forty-two really the answer to everything?
Is there already a fixed day when everything will be over?
What does Osama Bin Laden do today, after his fake death?
When will be Mario Gomez finally emerged from the German national eleven thrown?
When will Prosieben finally stop emitting terrible sets Galileo? And why do they constantly repeat the same episodes of How I
Met Your Mother and the Big Bang Theory?
And is it really always the same? Actually everything is made in repeating circuit?
After a while Dennis decides to go. He has an important meeting tomorrow. It is a large order from IBM, he has to be fit and to get enough sleep.
I bring him to the door and wish him good luck for tomorrow. After I had closed the door, I heard his cellphone ringing in the corridor outside. I am tired at once, I see black spots in front of my eyes and only thing I can do is to go to bed. There I fall directly into a deep sleep.
Three to four hours later...
I wake up with the song Break Out by Foo Fighters.
Where does it come from?
From my cellphone. I look at the clock next to my bed: few minutes after two o´clock - early in the morning.
Who the hall calls me at this time?
I am angrily taking my cellphone.
"Who is it?"
"Hello," says a quiet voice on the other side of pipe.
"Tell me, you Depp, do you know how late it is ...
Who is that at all?"
"Who is that?" asks the voice.
"I am not interested in such games after you woke me up." I look to the display of my phone which shows Dennis´s name.
"Dennis, what is this shit?"
"Here is not Dennis."
"Yes, funny," I say annoyed and hang up.
It rings again.
I go back to it.
"Tell me, Dennis, is it because of your excitement about tomorrow, or are you so drunk?"
"Here is not Dennis", claims the caller same as few minutes ago.
Who could be that otherwise? His friend? No, it cannot be. He doesn´t have any other friends. He has told me last evening that he cannot stay longer since he has to sleep in order to be relaxed for tomorrow. And now, he calls in the middle of the night with a strange voice. He changed it so that I cannot recognize him, but I did in the end. And yeah, he calls from his phone number without making it invisible. Well my friend, that is stupid.
"And why do you call then from your phone number?"
"Because I found it."
Good answer, I have to admit. But I am still quite annoyed by this situation and my tiredness makes the thing even worse. But I would still like to sleep now, it is very late, damn it. Before I answer him I breathe deeply.
"You have found the cellphone?" I have asked quietly but then I said: "Stop Dennis, it is enough!"
"I am not fucking Dennis, damn!" he screams and sounds very angry, although I am the one who has the right to behave like that. Taken aback, I light a cigarette.
"And who are you?" I ask him but I stay bored still.
"Ben. Ok, I am Ben".
I am taking a short break to see whether I know someone called Ben, who may be under the quilt together with Dennis, making his stupid joke call.
"So you are Ben and you have found the mobile phone of my friend Dennis. So, what do you want from me now?"
"Your number was last dialed."
"And this is why are you calling me now, right?"
"Well ... you know what, you will get his fixed-line number from me and you can call him tomorrow to see how you can give him his cellphone back ", I say it to him while I am opening a bottle of water standing next to my bed and taking a drink.
"Do you know where I had found the phone?" he asks.
"No," I answer.
"Because I want to sleep."
"I have found it in the staircase, directly in front of my apartment door."
"I'm not interested."
"Tell me, do you want to muck me or what. I have already said that I want to sleep, haven´t I? Did you perhaps come up with the idea that the owner of the cellphone lives in your house? If you have found it in the Staircase – an idea only."
He: "No, he does not live here. I know everyone from the floor and there is no one called Dennis"
"Do you have something to write with? Or shall I send you his fixed-line number via SMS?"
"You and Dennis are good friends?"
My conversation partner is slowly becoming angry. Now I am totally pissed.
"You are getting on my nerves, man. What do you want from me?"
"Honestly, I do not know either."
"What an asshole" I say to myself, holding the phone a bit far away.
"Do you want his fixed-line number? Yes or No?"
"I do not believe that he can use it now?"
"What should it mean? Did you put it in your ass or wink on it?"
"No. He does not look like being able to use it."
This statement makes me speechless. A spontaneous confusion spreads inside of me, and I get a strange feeling in the stomach.
"Hello is anyone there?" asks Ben in a striking quiet tone.
"What?" I asked carefully. "You have just told me that you found it, have not you?"
"Well, I'm not still getting your point?"
"Well, saying that I found the cellphone is not entirely true." He makes a pause. "I got it lifted after he dropped it."
I get a goose skin and the strange feeling in my stomach became stronger.
"Ahh, and… Did you see him dropping it, or how it happened?"
"And why you did not say to him."
"That was not possible."
"I guess, after I was done with him, he simply did not have enough strength to do anything," he sounds a little weird and brings me once again to silence.
"You are joking me, or what?"
"Why should I do, Dirk?"
My adrenaline shoots in the height.
"Wait, how do you know my name? Dennis saved my number under defective with O R in his phonebook"
"He has told me ... shortly before I have cut his vocal cords."
"What have you done? Where is he?” I am gasping on the phone. The fear overcomes me so much that I felt petrified. Like a deer in the headlights.
"He is in front of your door."
I run to the door and open it. Dennis is located directly in front of my door with slotted throat. In a huge blood pool which seeps into the carpet.
There is a pattern of blood splashes on the wallpaper and my door. Shocked by seeing this, everything inside me gets frozen. Dennis´s face is congealed into a pale, bloody nightmare. I stare into the dark hole of his wide-open mouth over the gash on his neck. He has his eyes wide open. He is completely expressionless staring into the infinite void. I got sweaty all over my back. I cannot look away, even if I want to. I cannot even control it, I search for something in his face – for anything.
Despair, terror, disbelief - but none of these is to be seen in those empty, cold eyes.
I am alone here and rigid stunned from the lifeless body of my best friend. I cannot simply believe what I see. I would like to believe that it was only a bad dream and that I will wake up every moment.
But I cannot wake up, because this is not a dream.
I lose control over my legs and I fall to the ground.
My back gets hurt by the door pillar. The pain extends all over my body. The phone is still in my hand. After a while I notice that he is still on the call saying Hello. I put the phone on my ear again.
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