I sat down in the break room happily as I bit into the new chicken sandwich my wife had packed for me. The chief and deputy walked in.
"Mind if we sit here?" Mike (the chief) questioned with a smile.
I nodded, and they sat.
"You're new here, right?" Allen chuckled with a devilish grin, and Mike sighed, annoyed, knowing what was coming next.
"Have you heard of Case File 0?"
I shook my head, a bit curious as I swallowed.
"Well, let me tell you a little ghost story about this town," he said, clearing his throat before beginning the story in a third-person view, almost as if he had made it up.
"Zack threw his painting supplies in the back seat of the truck and slammed the door shut as the old truck's motor clinked. The raindrops pelted the truck, sounding like bullets from the barrel of a gun. It was 2:35 when Zack left the college campus for home, where he’d spend the next two days with his younger brother, Kaleb. Tired and staying awake only by the taste of bitter coffee, he flipped on the radio to the 'classic rock' station.
He slowed down when he reached the fork in the road that led into the thick, dark, hellish woods. He began to feel a hint of one of the devil’s favorite games—fear. The woods at night were hard enough to see through, but when it was raining, you’d be lucky to even see the beam of headlights. It was on one of these nights that the darkest thoughts in his mind spread into a blossom of madness.
It was two miles into the woods when something slammed into his car. The shadow looked like it was a deer, possibly another person, but who would have been out in the woods that late, walking alone in the dark?
Soon, the loud clatter of the motor came to a stop, and Zack looked around for anything that would match the size of what hit his car. To his terror, it was what looked like a 13-year-old boy. His bones ripped through his hoodie sleeve. His face had been shredded from the rocky road. His head began to move in an unnatural fashion, and then, with a sudden crack, he went limp, almost like a rag doll. Blood puddled from the kid’s mouth as if he were throwing up. Half of his neck was torn open—veins, muscle, and bone gruesomely revealing themselves.
Zack looked at the features of the kid, not noticing before, simply paying attention to the wounds, hoping they weren’t bad. But his blood ran cold when the car crushed the frail body. The boy’s hair was almost midnight black with the shine of navy blue, and his skin was ghostly pale. Zack carefully turned the body so the face could be fully seen. It was almost impossible to make out the face, but with his knowledge of anatomy and the often-painted gore he produced, he could almost recognize it.
That’s when he couldn’t tell the difference between his tears and the icy rain.
It was Kaleb.
Panic filled him, and the only thing he could think of was: 'Hide the body. You have to hide the body.' And so he did. He picked up his limp brother’s dead body and ran deep into the woods, careful with his brother, guilty for what he had done. But he couldn’t let anyone know. He wasn’t a killer, and he loved his brother. But he went back to his car.
The clinking began again, and the truck started, making it only halfway to the apartment before his body was found in the old, rusting car with a giant tear in his chest. Every rib was randomly broken, and his lung was torn out. The stick part of one of Zack’s paintbrushes had been sharpened and torn into his stomach, most certainly causing internal bleeding and torn-up organs. Some reports say there was blood running from his mouth, nose, and eyes.
The files have been hidden and forgotten for many good reasons. But after the case was closed, there was one thing missing from the evidence box: the paintbrush. Some say it’s a cursed object, causing an artist to go insane, killing their family, only to be slaughtered by an unknown entity. But the paintbrush is always put into evidence, only to disappear once again."
"Do you really think I'll believe that?" I asked, almost angered by the story.
"If you don’t believe me, go and find the case files yourself. Find all of them."
I chuckled at it.
"Okay, but you’re getting me a drink if I end up wasting my time on it."
"Fine."
I got up and headed to evidence. What I saw in there was something no human should ever see. I can’t describe it, nor will I, but I can tell you this: I’m looking into the haunting blue of its eyes.