• It's 4:12 am


    Life is a simple thing. You keep building it up, you keep on prospering.

    Riiiiiing!

    You keep going, no matter what obstacals get in your way.

    "Hello?"

    Unfortunately, there is but one obstacal man has yet to overcome...

    CRACK

    Death.

    --------------------------------------------

    "You know, Chad, I don't come to these rest for the food," my friend, Charles, said from across the table. "There's something I'm far more interested at." He nodded towards a waitress in front of us.

    "Yes, Charles," I said, rolling my eyes as I continued to sip down my Coke, "you don't have to remind us all of your pervertedness."

    "Hey, do you think I want to stay single my whole life?" I shrugged, and continued to eat.

    I suppose I'm jumping into what's going on a little too fast. As it has already been established, my name is Chad. I'm a detective of a sort, and I've had my share of cases.

    But this far surpassed any case I had seen.

    It started when I was sitting with Charles at Red Lobsters, and he told me something very peculiar.

    "It's odd that your wife couldn't join us," he said, leaning towards me. "I called her early early this morning..."

    "How early?" I imposed.

    "A little after 4, I think."

    "Well, no wonder!" I exclaimed. "I wouldn't answer a call if it came at 7!" He bit into his salmon, and said as he chewed while had to glance away from his filled mouth,

    "Tho what iv I gith up a lithle early?" He gulped his meal down, and continued clearer, "But that's not what's strange. What's strange is that I heard a weird odd noise after she said "hello" in the phone. Like, well, pardon me for being blunt, but almost like a gunshot." I stopped eating.

    "What?"

    "Well," he said, "it was like a loud CRACK sound." I continued to drink my coke, and reassured him,

    "Bad connection. Happens all the time. Though what I find odd is that when I wake, she's gone, and she leaves a note on the refridgerator saying "Babysitting. Be back later tonight.""

    "Your wife babysits?" Charles askes, leaning closer.

    "That's what's odd," I said, tapping the table. "I never remember her babysitting. And she didn't leave a phone number for me to call. I tried her cell, but I found that she left it in the bedroom." I suddenly got this horrible feeling...a feeling as though something traumatizing happened.

    "Charles, I'm getting worried," I said, and stuffed a few things in a doggy bag. "I'm gonna go back home."

    "Suit yourself," he said back to me, crossing his arms and his legs. "Bye, Chad."

    "Bye, Charles." And as I got into my car and drove off, the worried sensation stayed there. Was I just being paranoid, or had something really actually gone bad?

    I really hoped I was just being paranoid.