The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Mr. Mercer sat inside his car, right in front of 909 West 7th Blvd. The man's lips never parted as he stared longingly at the disheveled, abandoned home that still looked like a crime scene even after so many months.Mercer's head was oozing sweat. Even without an undershirt on the domineering heat of July bore down upon him like an ancient plague. His skin was sticking to his shirt's fabric making simple movements feel squishy and cumbersome.

Outside on the sidewalk were three scruffy looking, young black men who looked as if they were in the midst of committing some sort of heinous act. While clear on the other end of the sidewalk was an old, black man cutting his lawn.

The man's left hand was welded to the door's handle, all he had to do was pull down the latch and it would be wide open. But he chose to remain inside the sweltering vehicle and just look on. He couldn't budge an inch; the house appeared as if it wanted to crumble right there in front of his eyes.

Suddenly, the teenagers that were just milling about on the sidewalk began yelling out loud which in turn caused Mercer to awaken from his suspended animation.

With about as much will power as he could possibly gather, the man opened the door, got out and gingerly made his way towards the front door.All around him the sounds of rowdy teenagers, loud lawnmowers and simple insects became inaudible. It was as if he had become the only person on the planet at that point. Even his own two legs felt like they weren't below him anymore; he suddenly felt as though he were levitating rather than walking.

The very moment he reached the decrepit porch steps, almost immediately the very first board gave way. Mercer sidestepped the flimsy wood and simply lifted high his large leg on his way up. He stood in front of the door and waited. Just what the man was waiting for was lost somewhere between his logic and memories of the past. All Mercer could do was stand absolutely motionless for ceaseless moments before taking his sweaty right hand and using it to twist the doorknob until it creaked open.

Immediately, the stench of must and body odor rushed into Mercer's face and out into the summer air. Mercer proceeded to prance right inside, closing the door behind him. The entire living room was completely empty. The carpet was stripped bare while the walls still had imprints of where furniture and frames once rested. He couldn't believe how smelly the house still was after so long as he strolled about the humid living room and into the kitchen. The small stove and cabinets that he passed along the way looked like something from out of the previous century.

Once Mercer approached the backdoor he gazed out the window at the tiny woodshed that was leaning to one side as if it could fall to pieces at any second.

When he was through at the door, Mercer turned and began back in the opposite direction. He went from the kitchen to the bedroom that was empty but alive with glorious sunlight that illuminated the room from just about every corner.

Right behind him was the hallway. All Mercer had to do was turn, but his body became strangely immobile once again. He couldn't move a muscle, and deep down, he honestly didn't want to. There was a single window in the bedroom just several feet from where he was standing; jumping out of it was an option for the man.

Mercer gradually turned and found himself inside the cavernous hallway. The man stepped one foot in front of the other until his face came into contact with the one room in the house that could possibly take his mortal life.

expected to see at least a few spots or speckles of blood in obscure corners of the room, but the entire space was pristine; in fact, it was possibly the cleanest room in the entire house, save for the dead mouse on the

of the hallway, stood a figure. And stand is all it did. It

staring down at the tile in a dreaded pout. Soon, his hands began to tremble. At first, he expected it, but

corridor in which he figured he was all alone inside. But there

Mercer's eyes

the hands of mine enemies." He whispered. "Be with me

something crashing from another room broke right in between, causing the man to break out into the

Lucifer." He muttered with trembling

of the other he walked out of the

living room, attempting to recall if he noticed any sort of cup lying about as he came into the house. But rather than try and rationalize any further, the man unclenched his heavy hands and stormed out the front door with

are you doing up in that house?" One of the three young men from the sidewalk called out

he carried on to

"I asked

looking in their direction, Mercer said, "I didn't come here for

punk ass out

unlocked the car door and proceeded to get in, only to

you go into

"That's right; this is our