The Uneasy Stranger

The Uneasy Stranger (2016)

Random, old, buried, and once-inaccessible parts of the mind sometimes open up and flourish during the doldrums of routine daily events, such as shopping, cleaning, and miscellaneous chores. The conscience also happens to be born anew during moments of the exact opposite, moments of struggle, chaos, and life-or-death situations. Chadwick knew this, but had yet to experience it to the fullest. He was a thirty-three year old run-of-the-mill office clerk with an excruciatingly simple and predictable life. He drove a grey 2009 Honda Civic to his accounting job at Malteco Financing and he parked it in the exact same spot between 8:37 and 8:41 AM - depending on how he fit into the traffic light patterns of that particular morning. He watched the exact same TV shows as they aired throughout the rigid weekly cycle, thinking the exact same things as each one started and ended, and then going through the exact same motions and mental contemplation each time the credits to a show rolled across his mid-budget flat-screen television. He ate the exact same cycle of meals precisely on schedule as each one was assigned to its particular slot inside each of the seven days. All of his attempts to hang on to this existence of simplicity failed the day he saw the uneasy stranger.

                It was an early autumn Wednesday. Chadwick was out shopping for household supplies and groceries at the local big box store chain called Sawn’s Mart. It was owned by the Sawnson family, the richest family on Earth, and a bumbling lot of greedy, narcissistic psychopaths by all reputable accounts.  Chadwick himself was a household of one. He was far too introverted for dating, far too reclusive for friendship, and far too alienated for roommates or family. In this decrepit solitude Chadwick’s life hummed along with very predictable and mundane tones. This particular shopping trip was no exception. He parked in the dreary suburban parking lot as the late morning sun reflected its own specter across the upper dark band of his car’s windshield. He carefully locked his car, making sure to keep a constant hold of his keys, and then he proceeded into the store towards the automatic doors, completely unaware of the life shaking event which would take place inside.

                He entered the store and pulled out a cart from one of the rows by the main entrance. Then he proceeded to go through his shopping routine. Produce, bread, frozen, snacks, then household essentials. In the cleaning aisle Chadwick was struck by an unthinkable and invisible phantasm. It seemed that none of his fellow Sawn’s Mart shoppers noticed this creature or malicious attack against him. It suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision as a small elusive demon, an evil sprite of sorts. It hopped around the aisle like a small dust devil across a plain and then, at precisely the most opportune moment, it materialized a box-cutter and nicked Chadwick on the right forearm. The pain made him jump and sent his thoughts into a panicked delirium. And yet, this panic was still dwarfed by a completely different one, caused by the fact that not one single shopper noticed this evil creature. None of the six other people in the aisle even raised an eye up at this heinous attack. No one cared. No one noticed.

                In retrospect, the cut was not all that bad. It would leave a mild scar, at worst. Back inside his Civic, Chadwick began to calm down. His last stop on this peculiar shopping trip was the pharmacy section where he bought bandages and antiseptic solution. While driving back home, Chadwick realized he was now more puzzled and confused than scared. The fear of what just transpired was strong, to be sure, but it did not last. It gave way to and internalized questioning of himself. Was that a real attack by a supernatural being? Was it a hallucination? Or was it a very clever trickster of a child looking to get a ruse out of sheepish suburban shoppers in a store? Chadwick knew not what to do or who to call. And so, he went home to watch the next television show on his itinerary, hoping the passage of a few days would put this unfortunate situation far behind him.

                Time did not help. Exactly three days after his final store purchase of band-aids and disinfectant wipes was scanned, Chadwick woke up inside what appeared to be a suburban basement torture chamber. He was completely alone, chained, bound, and dressed only in soiled boxer shorts. The greater part of him did not panic. The smaller part of him expected this event, even though he had no idea how it transpired. All he remembered was the regular shopping trip, then about seventy two hours of a dark void. He felt no immediate sensations when waking up and coming to his senses inside the chamber, but then slowly, the tightness of the straps and chains around his limbs came to attention. His next thought was to produce a scream, but he soon realized that his mouth was taped completely shut. There must have been a force that brought him here… but what was it? And what was that odd and poking, somewhat painful feeling, slowly materializing in his abdomen?

                Who did this? Chadwick’s thoughts began to scramble in on themselves after he realized there was no point in struggling against the bindings, the chains, or the tape. Where am I? Why? Chadwick’s conscience sprung out from the depths of his psyche like a lonely flower on top of a shallow grave. It began to torment him, to interrogate him. The questions started.

                Why did you bully John Wilkson in the fourth grade? He didn’t do anything to you. Why did you do it, Chadwick?

                Why did you reject Sarah Fawler in her attempts at dating you during senior year in high school? She liked you, Chadwick. Why did you do reject her, Chadwick?

                Why did you not drop some coins into the beggar’s cup the last time you went downtown? You have over twelve thousand dollars saved, Chadwick. You don’t need that money, Chadwick. The beggar needed that money more than you, Chadwick. Why didn't you do it, Chadwick?

                This contemplative struggle went on for hours with no end in sight. Eventually Chadwick’s energy began to wane. He knew he could lose consciousness at any moment. His dehydration was reaching unforeseen levels. All struggles failed. All attempts to escape the binds and chains failed. Meekly, Chadwick resigned. This was the end. As the final throes of life’s energy leaked out of him, Chadwick noticed something he had yet not seen inside the dimly lit chamber. He felt almost silly for missing it during all those past hours.

It was a mirror. A perfectly polished, antique mirror that was reminiscent of the pomp and circumstance of Victorian times. It sat slightly off center from his field of vision and about seven feet away from the front of the chain rig. Inside the mirror, an uneasy stranger looked back at him. A small cut from what appeared to be a box cutter blade was visible on his right forearm.