A TROUBLED NIGHT (February 26, 1997)


Walking throughout the ruins of what had once been Trent Davidsen's studio, I was overcome by the magnitude of the damage. Everything was destroyed. At a glance, nothing could possibly have been salvaged. All of the electronics ... the fireproofed file drawers housing hard copies of the music Trent had written as well as the tapes he had recorded... everything was gone. And what the fire had not destroyed, the fire department had. Huge chunks of the walls taken out... doors beaten in... everything waterlogged... all for the sake of attempting to extinguish an inextinguishable fire. What a waste...

As I gingerly stepped around piles of rubble, pools of steaming water, trying to navigate my way through the still heavy clouds of smoke and ash, I came to a door that had not been smashed in... for that matter, the door seemed untouched by the devastation surrounding it. I reached for the doorknob, realizing too late that it was bound to sear and burn my skin, the heat of the fire still contained in the metal of the knob... and yet it was cool to the touch...

I turned the knob and the door opened inward... it was very dark, but enough light shown from behind me that my curiosity was piqued, and I entered the room. It seemed to be more of a wide corridor than a room... and completely empty.

Taking a few steps into the room, I could make out what appeared to be a table some ten feet away... walking over to it, I could make out that it was an immense table... maybe 6 feet square... and something white lying on top of it... covering most of the surface. As I reached the table, I realized that it was a white sheet covering the objects on the table... and apparently the objects beneath the sheet covered almost the entire table surface.

I took hold of the sheet and threw it back... and discovered a pair of bodies, laid out side by side and it became obvious this was like a physician's examining table. But there was something wrong with the bodies laying on the table... because of the darkness of the room, I couldn't quite make out the details. Reaching into my jeans pocket, I pulled out a cigarette lighter and flicked it on. As the small flame penetrated the dark I was horrified to see the bodies had been decapitated...

Held by morbid curiosity, I lowered the lighter toward the bodies and saw the heads of the two bodies lying atop the bodies' chests. I was even more horrified to see that the heads of the bodies belonged to Trent and Ishta Davidsen.

Out of horrified shock, I dropped the lighter and went running toward the door to escape the room... but the door slammed shut and locked of its own accord... a growing greenish-yellow cast of light began emanating from the ceiling... and from all directions, I could hear laughter... a man's laughter... no, that could be no man... Sweet Jesus, help me... He had done this! It was Burton... Burton Jones...

And I began to scream...

*****

Sitting up in bed screaming... the images rapidly fading from my subconscience, I realized it had been just a dream... I looked over to Daren's sleeping form beside me, needing to have his strong arms around me, protecting me, telling me it was all right, lulling me back to sleep... but he was still asleep himself, his back to me...

I leaned over Daren's sleeping body to kiss his cheek... probably subconsciously hoping to rouse him to at least roll over and put his arm around me... but as my lips touched his cheek, he began to chuckle... and then to laugh hideously... and I realized too late that it wasn't Daren in my bed, but Burton Jones... and I began screaming...

*****

I sat up in bed, in a cold sweat, quickly looking over at the empty pillow beside me... Daren hadn't spent the night because he had a full and early day come morning... I glanced at the clock... it was 4:26 a.m.

I got up and made a pot of coffee vowing never to eat pepperoni pizza again before going to bed...



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