Unhappily Ever After: A Collection of Feary Tales

Run, Run

RUN, RUN

Scott Butane was an eccentric old man that most town folks avoided. He lived in a two-story clapboard house that was in dire need of repair. A large tarp covered half of the sagging roof and the white paint was so chipped and worn away that the siding was bare in spots. Brambles and bushes overran the overgrown lawn that sat behind a rusty old metal fence. There were many offers to help fix up the place but all attempts were refused.

"My Ella will help me when she gets back." Scott would say.

No one knew what happened to his wife, Ella Butane, only that she had disappeared many years before. Some of the towns people believed that she had run off with a traveling salesperson who had come to town around the time she left. Some believed that the old man killed her. But it was all speculation and the police had nothing to go on. After she left, the once prosperous man and former track star fell into ruin and refused to change a thing until Ella came home.

Every Saturday morning, Scott could be found at the local grocery store buying flour, sugar, and a few other staples. After that, no one saw him for the rest of the week. It was six weeks after Scott's eighty-sixth birthday that the store owner called the police. The old man hadn't come in for the last two weeks.

Upon the arrival of two uniformed officers, they discovered the Scott Butane's body. He was lying next to the only thing in the house that looked almost new, a white vintage stove. A sheet of cookies lay on top as if waiting to be placed into the oven.

The doctor arrived shortly after and reported that he would estimate the man to have been dead for about three days. He couldn't determine the cause of death or the complications that would lead to his demise until an autopsy was done.

The officers helped load the man's body up before deciding to look around and lock up the place. They saw a door with several deadbolts and a wooden beam across it, barring the way.

"What's all this?" Officer Pete wondered as the two men pried open the locks.

The sight that greeted them was whole unexpected. A chill of dread caused the hairs on the backs of their necks to stand up and goosebumps to pop up all over. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of several lamps whose light was muted by the thick lampshades. The floors and walls were covered with a padded material like you would see in an insane asylum only they were covered with a bright pink satin.

There was a pink metal pole that ran floor to ceiling about fifteen feet from the door. Attached to the pole was a heavy chain, also painted pink. The chain ran along the floor to a full-size bed surrounded by heavy rose-colored drapes. Every flat surface contained a paper plate filled with all sorts of cookies.

A child might innocently mistake this room as a dream come true but the officers could only feel a cold chill run up their spines as they observed this nightmare. They approached the bed carefully not wanting to disturb the cookies or any evidence that might be present.

To their shock the duvet on the bed moved.

Quickly pulling out their guns and training it at the covers, one of the officer's called out.

"Police Officers! Put you hands up where we can see them!"

The figure lay still for a moment before a cracking dry whisper called out, "My hands are cuffed and I cannot move."

Slowly approaching the bed, the officers were horrified by the state of the bound woman lying on the bed. Tucking away their guns, they called for an ambulance and the paramedics took the poor woman to the hospital. A crime scene unit arrived and a Detective Hill headed the investigation.

Going into to the basement they noticed a humming noise that came from the corner of the room. Thick heavy curtains blocked off a section. Carefully pulling the curtains back, they found a walk-in freezer. Opening the metal insulated door, there lay several bodies within. They were all dressed in the same pink gown that the woman on the bed had been wearing. There was a resemblance to the corpses and the woman. They looked similar and had honey gold hair.

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Detective Hill, walked into the woman's hospital room. She was propped up on the white sheets. The smell of disinfectant overpowered the scent of the bouquet of flowers that sat next to her bed.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Detective Hill. I realize that this is a difficult time but if you're up for it, we have some questions."

The woman nodded slowly as a doctor came in to monitor the situation.

"What is your name?"

"Nancy Taylor."

"How did you come to be in Mr. Butane's basement?"

"I was kidnapped as I was leaving work back in the first part of May 2017 in the parking lot. I'm not sure how long I was unconscious but when I woke up, the man, Scott, called me 'Ella' and insisted that I was his wife. He said that he had to keep me locked up because I was always trying to run away."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. If it weren't for the fact that I was locked away and dying from the lack of nutrition. I would have thought it sweet how much this man cared for his wife. I wasn't the only one from what I gathered. When I first came, he told me that I would learn 'like the others.' There was an old album that he would bring down showing me the fun times he and his real wife had had. I would play along because he would become agitated when I didn't. I don't know if his wife ran away or if she died but he couldn't handle her leaving. He only made cookies and wanted his wife to be happy with her favorite treat."

The woman shivered. "I don't feel like talking about this anyone."

"Just one more question." Detective Hill pressed. "We found seven bodies in a walk-in freezer in the basement where you were held."

"I couldn't tell you anything any them." Nancy said abruptly. "My chain never let me walk that far nor did he ever tell me anything about what was behind the curtains."

The detective stood, thanked the woman, leaving her a card, and left the room.

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The house and its property were left to Scott Butane's only living relative, his nephew who was an old man himself. Roy Butane decided to sell off the property and split the money to give his uncle's victim's families.

The only thing that Roy took was the vintage stove next to where Scott Butane's body had been found. It was to Roy and his wife's surprise that after hooking up the old stove, that there was a sweet smell coming from within the oven. Somehow the knob had been turned and the door popped open. A cookie lay within. They watched in disbelief as the cookie, cut in the shape of a man, stood up and grabbed a packet of frosting to form eyes nose and a mouth.

The cookie smiled sinisterly, grabbed a knife and stabbed the old woman through the hand as she reached for him.

"Run, run as fast as you can. You can't catch me... I'm the Gingerbread man."