Sal was woken abruptly by the loud knock on the door. He was sweaty and confused. Things in the room slowly morphed from outlines to having a perceived texture.
It was morning. Time for school.
His father banged the door for the second time. “Get up, Sal,” he said.
“Okay!” Sal ran his fingers through his hair. He was a student at Strong Edge High School. He hated getting up early in the morning, especially on Mondays, but he welcomed the wake-up call on that day. Voices from downstairs drifted up from between the floorboards, further encouraging him to get out of bed.
He stared out the window. It was sunny outside and already hot. He felt compelled to open the window and breathe in the scent of sunshine, newly mowed lawns, and freshness as it filled the room.
Sal lived in Strong Edge on Swiss Avenue in a house with a solid brick front, wood trim, and arched windows. The house had a rear porch from which they'd enjoyed the outdoors.
A built-in grill under the overhang turned the rear terrace into a family hangout in good weather. There was a basketball court at the far end of the big backyard which had served as a sweet escape for Sal for as far back as he could remember. His thoughts seemed to naturally disappear when he played basketball, leaving him to exist only in the moment. The sense of ecstasy at being outside of everyday reality provided him with great inner-clarity.
Strong Edge was known for its wonderful hiking trails, wildflowers, fishing, mountain biking, and boating opportunities. A major gateway for millions of tourists visiting the nearby National Park each year, this beautiful little town was known for its soothing surroundings.
The city was also known for its Serenity Park, and Giantsfair, one of the oldest amusement parks in the country. Strong Edge had been tourist attraction for many years. There was much to see and do, and the town offered a tranquil respite from life's the fast-paced tempo.
Sal rubbed his eyes. He'd had most peculiar, scary, lifelike dream ever. There had been an old barn, blood spatter on the wall, and people were yelling and screaming. Something was burning, and he was suffocating.
He could still feel and smell the smoke in his nostrils as his body had slowly awoken. Sal sneezed and watched the particles from his nosedive in the air and settle to the floor. He slowly made his way out of bed, feeling his body stiffen. Something about the dream made him freeze. There had been a man there, grinning and looking at Sal with big black eyes. The guy had freaked him out. He'd wanted to say something, but Sal would not let him speak a word.
He was afraid of what he might say, knowing his words would have truth to them.
Sal slapped his palm against his face. Why was he scared of a dream?
He shook the dream off on his way to the bathroom. It was an obstacle course. Sal had three siblings, and their toys were everywhere on the floor. Joanna and Anthony were twins and younger than him. Then there was Carl, his older brother.
Sal turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower to wash off the sweat from his nightly horror. He lowered the water's temperature and began to feel ready to face whatever challenges the day might offer.
He hated to admit it, but there was something ominous about the dream.
Something was scraping outside of the bathroom door. Sal turned off the water, wrapped himself in a towel, and smiled. A beautiful blonde would be waiting for him on the other side of the door—his golden retriever, Angel. It was time for their usual morning walk during which they'd stroll through the neighborhood and get a sense of the day.
Sal got dressed quickly and went outside with Angel. The sky was clear, shiny, and beautiful bright blue. Angel was eager that day, jumping up and down, which was unusual. Angel was usually lazy when the weather got like that.
The ground was warm, and the bugs were buzzing. The air was dry, the kind of dry to make his hair staticky.
The neighborhood had been established in the 1950s. It was family-oriented, dotted with ranch homes and new construction in a thriving, community center, with good schools, parks, a low crime rate, and access to pretty much anything. It was what had made it one of the most desirable neighborhoods in Strong Edge. Sal’s parents were family-oriented people, so it wasn't hard to see why they'd chosen the place.
Sal and Angel walked down the street, passing the neighbors as they trotted along. Most of them were okay. They'd always accepted his strange appearance and his parent’s explanation as to his origin,
but down the street at number 26B, a strange man resided.
It was hard to tell how old he was, but he'd always stared at Sal’s house as he walked by. He didn't even try to hide his curiosity. His hair was long, and his nose had a bump on it as if it once had been broken. Word around town was he'd once had made a pass at someone’s sixteen-year-old daughter, and the father had smacked him around.
Mr. Crooked Nose’s curiosity was partly based on that creepy note that Sal’s mom didn’t think he knew anything about. The lecher had written his mother a letter saying he’d like to see her naked.
What the hell had he been thinking?
His mother had just sighed and torn the note to pieces. Sal’s dad didn’t know, because to Sal's knowledge, she'd never told him. Sal supposed she felt sorry for the guy.
Sal had only known of the incident because his mother had indirectly told him about it—he sort of read her mind. It was a skill he'd possessed for as far back as he could remember. The skill had saved him from a lot of trouble, but it had also gotten him into some. His teachers either loved him or hated him. One of them had even referred to him as “Mr. Know-It-All.”
He thought about Mr. Callaghan, that young teacher, and the guys who admired Sal’s popularity with the girls, and the guys who had hated him for it.
You win some; you lose some.
Sal had told Carl about the note, and they'd pieced it back together. Carl had been furious, and something had snapped inside of Sal. The guy was beneath him; a simpleton.
In the heat of crazy, the two brothers had come up with a plan.
When day had shifted into night, they would dress in suits just like the ones Jesse and Walter had worn in Breaking Bad when they were being bad. They would put on rubber gloves, grab some shovels and some paint, and sneak down to 26B.
When they reached the front porch with the blue stone floor tile and the black front door with sidelights and black planters, they realized the guy wasn't home.
So far, so good.
Carl smashed one of the small windows in the door to gain access to the house. They waited for an alarm to go off and prepared for their escape, but no such thing happened. They looked around to assure no one had heard the sound of breaking glass before Carl reached in, opened the front door, and they went inside, adrenaline pumping through their bodies.
The foyer was decorated all in white with a custom staircase, white oak hardwood floors, and white oak stair treads. The kitchen featured white cabinets, a white marble countertop, built-in glass-door wine cooler, with a light grey island, and brushed brass lighting.
The only things standing out were the blue chairs.
The living room had an open brick fireplace dividing it from the kitchen. The furniture there was white, and there was a built-in bookcase. A big screen TV was the only dark thing in the room. The house was neat, with expensive furniture. The guy had to be lousy with money.
They trashed the place, splattering paint on the furniture and walls. They taped the note that had been sent to their mother on the wall.
Carl went into the garage to smash the windows on the Mercedes Benz and slash the tires while Sal took a quick look around the rest of the house. He noticed there was a wooden door under the staircase. Sal opened the door to see a staircase leading down to a basement.
He went down the squeaky steps, half-expecting a bat to fly into the face.
The basement was a pitch dark room without lights. Standing still, waiting while his eyes adjusted didn’t seem to help. Spiders hung from the ceiling and corners, spinning their sticky, transparent webs. The place was the antithesis of neat upstairs quarters.
He found his way his way to a switch in the darkness and turned the light on, waiting once more for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he was met with a shocking sight.
The steps squeaked behind him. He looked around in amazement. It was Carl. “Yo, Sal!" he said. "We need to go. What—”
Carl laughed. “Who the hell does this guy think he is? Christian Grey?”
Sal knew what he'd meant—the place looked like a swingers' club from hell. Whips, bondage equipment, and posters of naked people in all sorts of positions “graced” the walls.
Carl grabbed his cell phone from his pocket to snap a few pictures. When he was done, they went upstairs. In big letters, Carl wrote, "NICE BASEMENT, FREAK!" with a marker on the living room wall.
Afterward, they went to a secluded area and burned anything which might expose them as the culprits before sneaking back home. They never mentioned the experience to anyone. Their parents would vouch for them if questions came up. It was crazy how they were able to pull something like that off.
No questions were asked. No one had seen or heard anything, and the guy never reported the break-in. It turned out he didn't want to be exposed for the freakazoid he was.
From then on, the guy went straight by Sal's house without so much as a glance. That was the kind of stuff Sal was able to get away with.
Someone had once asked him what the hell had made him so special; Sal was about to find out.