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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1925400-Eddies-Runaway-Vacation
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1925400
Psycho Eddie's runaway vacation leads to death and bingeing.
Eddie's Vacation



He ran, footsteps echoing in the night, long shadows chasing.

In the wee hours, a stumbling Eddie chose the pastel painted Queen Anne-style house.  People were after him and maybe even wanted him dead.  Paranoia coursed through him like a red hot poker, and he didn’t like it one bit.   

The loose latch spun around.  Scabs of old paint snowed down and the rusty hinges screamed in the night as he wrestled his stocky body through the rectangle opening of the window.  The scent of turpentine assailed his nostrils.  He took a deep breath to gather all the smell inside him. His cheek slapped the gritty concrete floor, while the rest of his body wiggled snake-like before somersaulting and careening into empty buckets.  This sent them rolling around in lopsided circles banging against shrouded objects.

Grunting, Eddie struggled to a sitting position and rubbed his head.  He smeared a small amount of blood with salty sweat streaming down the sides of his broad cheeks finding his lips.  Swiping the edge of his soiled tee shirt across his face, he waited impatient for his eyes to adjust to the new surroundings.  He gulped air to shake off the hibbee jibbees. 


Eddie jabbed rough hands through his copper matted hair and exhaled.  “What is this place?”  He answered his own question.  “I don’t think I’ve made a good choice.

The soft rustling and pitter patter of claws further spooked Eddie.  He staggered to his feet and swayed from the new adrenaline rush.  Shaking it off he cocked his head concentrating and sorting the quiet sounds of darkness.  He sensed it to his right before turning and inspecting the unknown shapes crowding the room.  But then he caught the flash of animal night vision. 

“Oh, please don’t be rats.”  Eddie stood frozen by fear and dread.  One minute he felt safe from his killers and now he wanted to bolt back into the fray of danger.  He inched backward closer to the window which shed a modicum of moonlight.  His hip bumped a table or counter.  Thrusting his arms forward, his shaking hands glided over its surface.  He felt a coffee mug fall over and spill its remains, sheets of sandpaper, a hefty roll of tape, and then pay dirt.  A flashlight.

Fumbling for the button, he swore in anguish.  The pitter patter commenced again along with the rustling.  With nothing to lose Eddie whacked the flashlight against the counter.  An arc of light blazed a haloed path.  He laughed and cried at the same time with relief.

The beam of light flickered over objects.  Ladders and drop clothes littered the area beyond the counter.  A metal shelving rack housed paint cans, stains, shellac, thinner, and brushes.  To his left was a workbench.  Pegboard lined the wall with tools.  Eddie swooned at all the new smells wafting around him. He searched for a light-switch, but then thought better of it.  His rubber soles made a Velcro ripping sound when he stepped in the direction of the stairs.    He was curious for more adventure. 

The first step creaked.  Eddie paused.  And then there it was again.  The pitter patter…rustling sound.

He stomped his big feet up the rest of the creaking stairs.  His thick fingers swept the wall searching until they found the wall switch.  Florescent light sputtered and hummed to life and his eyes captured the source of his fear.  A cat.

The cat slid back on his haunches.  It was a ghostly white, except for the black marking around the left eye.  It reminded Eddie of an ink explosion.  The cat’s eyes shimmered staring up at Eddie.  It was an average size cat he estimated, however he didn’t understand the creature’s toy.  The cat had been dragging a child’s doll around by its blonde doll hair.  The rustling sound was due to the doll’s pink taffeta dress.

“Are you a ghost cat?”  He spoke aloud his thought, something he did too often.

He watched the cat drop his treasure and hiss. 

“Fine.  Be that way.”  Eddie forgot about the people chasing him and decided the cat was up to something dangerous.  “You should go.  Scat.” 

“Pfft.  What the hell are you talking about?  I’m the one who lives here.  You’re the intruder.  You go.”  The cat cocked his head waiting for Eddie to say something.

“You can’t talk.  You’re just a cat.”  Eddie wasn’t sure what to do next.  He never met a talking cat.  He once knew a talking bird named Pretty Boy Pete.  He belonged to Dr. Beatty, the boss at the institution.  But something happened to Pretty Boy Pete.  Dr. Beatty found the bird’s green feathers scattered about his office.  It was the first time Eddie witnessed panic in Dr. Beatty’s eyes.  And then, after a time, Dr. Beatty was sitting at his desk putting a pencil away inside the top desk drawer.  Everyone heard him yelp and then they watched him cradle the limp bird in his cupped hands as tears rolled down his aged cheeks.  The doctor questioned everyone on the third floor.  When it was Eddie’s turn, he smiled at the doctor and told him all about his conversation with Pretty Boy Pete. 

“Yes, I was petting Pretty Boy Pete.  And he was real happy.”  Eddie was so proud.

Dr. Beatty wrote something on his clipboard.  “And then what happened?”

“He said he wanted to go outside and be with the other birds.”  Eddie rubbed his hands together before continuing.  “But I told him he was an inside bird just like you said, Dr. Beatty.”  Eddie gave the doctor his proud smile for remembering something important. 

“Hmm.  That was very good Eddie.  How did his feathers come out?”

Eddie’s big round face lit up.  “I pulled his feathers out so he couldn’t fly away, Dr. Beatty.”  He took a deep breath and said, “But then he was naked so I put him in the drawer so he wouldn’t be cold.”

Dr. Beatty told him he didn’t make good choices.  He decided to ignore the cat.


His belly was hungry.  He missed the regular meals at the institution.  The last thing he remembered was sharing a bottle of wine with a hobo in a cemetery.  The awful taste made him spit the first sip right out onto his slippers.  His outside shoes were still in his room.  Eddie didn’t know he’d be going outside until he followed a delivery man into the sunshine.  The delivery man hopped into a truck, but Eddie kept walking down the street all smiles.

And sure enough, he found the park and then the picnic grounds.  He tried not to look at people he didn’t know so that included everyone.  Sitting on a bench for part of the day under a massive oak tree, Eddie watched the squirrels play tag.  One came within a few feet of him and asked, “Are you lost, little buddy?”

“Oh no, I’m enjoying my vacation.”  He decided to call his time away from the institution a vacation.  He wasn’t sure what a vacation was exactly, but he’d heard the nurses talk about it all the time.  And they always liked their vacations.

He watched people throw the remains of their food away.  It made him hungry to watch other people eat, so he rummaged in the waste containers and bit into a half eaten apple, then he found a large portion of a chicken salad sandwich left-over and scarfed it down.  He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and walked to the water fountain for refreshment.

When day slipped into dusk, Eddie walked further east for a couple of miles avoiding main roads and decided to rest inside the cemetery.  He liked to read the gravestones, although he wasn’t a very good reader truth be told.  When he got tired he sat down to converse with Sam Boyle.  He could read the name Sam and asked him if he liked it in the cemetery.  Eddie didn’t wait for an answer—his eyes fluttered closed and then he slumped over and had himself a nap right on top of old Sam’s grave who was happy to rest in peace since 1968. 

A couple hours later Hobo Jonesy came along and sat along side Eddie.  “You thirsty?”  He nudged Eddie awake with his raggedy sneaker, anxious to have someone to speak with.

Eddie stood up and rubbed at his eyes like a little boy.  “Are you a ghost or something?”

“Heck no.  I’m Jonesy.”  He thrust the brown bag wrapped bottle towards Eddie.  “Thirsty?”

“What it is?” 

“Juju juice.  Makes you strong.”

Eddie giggled like a school boy.  “I guess so since I’m on vacation.”  He didn’t remember Dr. Beatty’s words to make good choices.



The cat followed Eddie through the door into a hallway.  Morning light played with shadows.  Eddie shuffled along, his hand brushing the fresh painted wall.  The cat nudged up against his leg.  Eddie looked into the shine of its eyes and the doll prisoner in the cat’s jaws.

“So, what’s your name?  I’m Eddie.” 

“Smokey, you big knucklehead.”

“And who’s that in your mouth?”

He scampered off without another word.

Eddie continued walking, flashing his light up and down.  Nothing registered except his intent to eat.  His concentration was so focused on finding food, he startled when he heard a woman’s voice.

“Winslow?  Where are you?  Is that you making all that noise downstairs?  Come to mama.”

It was a nice voice in Eddie’s ears, but he didn’t expect anyone to be in the house.  It didn’t smell lived in, like Eddie’s old room at home before he went to the institution.  When he had a mama. 

He pressed his back against the wall.  He missed his mama.  Maybe this woman would make him some breakfast Eddie mused-- like his mama used to.  She always made his eggs just the way he liked them.  Two sunny-sides up with three bacons.  The institution didn’t do that.  They only made scrambled.  Eddie complained plenty in the beginning but nothing changed.

So he popped from around the wall and asked.  “Hi!  Kind lady mama would you please make me some eggs!”

A shriek followed and then the lady started screaming.  Eddie couldn’t stand screaming.  It hurt his ears, so he did what he did to his own mama the last time she got mad at him for squeezing the gerbils to death and she yelled so loud he had to put his hands over his ears.

Eddie bounded toward the woman in the plaid robe and hugged her face to his chest.  “Please don’t yell anymore.”

The woman struggled to push him away.  His arms locked around her even tighter and kept squeezing until there was no struggle, only a limp body he let slump to the floor.

“What the hell did you just do you pathetic stupid idiot?”

His head snapped in the direction of Winslow.  “Why’d she have to scream?”

“You’re crazy.”

Eddie beat his fists against his thighs and whisper shouted.  “I’m not crazy.  Stop saying that.”

“Eddie is crazy.  Eddie is crazy.”  The cat’s tail swished as he taunted Eddie.

“Stop it now, or you’ll be sorry,” Eddie whisper shouted charging toward the cat, but not quick enough to capture the agile Winslow.

Daylight crawled into the room.  The sun peaked in and Eddie saw the entrance to the kitchen.  Half running, he made his way to the refrigerator and opened it with anticipation.  His usual squinty eyes bugged out.  “Yummies!” 

He wasted no time yanking items out with two hands and piling it on the counter.  Opening a jug he drank milk in big swallows, the rest ran down the front of his tee shirt.  Then he tackled a pound of sliced yellow cheese, stuffing it into his mouth, making chewing and smacking sounds, plus heavy breathing at the same time.  He slurped from a jar of olives letting them disappear into his belly before chomping on a stalk of celery and then a few radishes.

He continued to snack on various left-over foods in plastic containers, crossing his legs instead of finding the bathroom.  Soon it was too late and warm wetness darkened his flannel pants, leaving a puddle around his feet and inside his tan slippers. 

He attacked a jar of maraschino cherries, throwing his head back and pouring it into his mouth, stems and all.  Some fell out and rolled onto the counter flip-flopping to the floor only to swim in urine.

The refrigerator door remained open while Eddie took a breather.  A string of nasty belches rang out in staccato echoes.

Eddie moved inside the well-stocked pantry offering up cookies, crackers, and breads.  He avoided the canned goods and drooled at the pictures of cookies on the many boxes.  He decided on chocolate chip and ripped the package wide open.  The cookies spilled to the floor so he slid down the wall and sat in the pantry woofing down “yummies.”.     

Exhaustion crept up on Eddie.  His chin sagged against his chest among crumbs and bits of chocolate chip.  A whole cookie stay lodged between his stained teeth.


Winslow dashed up all the stairs to the master bedroom.  Dr. Beatty was stretching and yawning.  He’d finally awakened, somewhat refreshed, after taking two sleeping pills with a shot of Christian Brothers, leaving him dead to the world for eight solid hours.  The day before had been so hectic after the disappearance of a psychotic-schizophrenic disorder patient.

Feeling refreshed, he padded down the stairs on his way to the kitchen for a hot cup of coffee and breakfast with his wife, Michelle.



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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1925400-Eddies-Runaway-Vacation