By Michael Teasdale
The clock ticked as Doctor K made a few perfunctory marks on her clipboard, then studied the hollow-eyed patient. “The man in the purple waistcoat… have you seen him again since the accident?”
The patient’s face spasmed at the mention. He shook his head with the short, sharp ferocity of a dog shaking off rainwater.
K raised a hand in a placating gesture. “That’s a good thing, Mr. Jones. Please remember this is a safe space.”
Jones slumped forward on the sofa, his bitten-down fingernails digging into the cover of the little notebook he hugged against his chest.
K smiled. “I see you brought the journal we talked about in our last session. Would you like to share?”
Without looking up, Jones nodded. He fumbled open the pages, cleared his throat, and began: “Monday the 15th—Woke up to another sickly purple sunrise. I tried to tell myself it was a coincidence. Something to do with the weather. At lunchtime, I saw eggplant and beets lurking in the salad bar. The server was smiling. Was she in on it? I went back to the office without eating.”
K scribbled on her pad as she listened.
“Tuesday the 16th—An old woman sat down opposite me on the subway and ate a bag of Concord grapes. I got off two stops early.” He glanced up, his voice trembling. “I couldn’t stand it, Doc!”
K noted the bags under his eyes. A lack of sleep was understandable, given the bizarre conspiracy he had invented surrounding the man in the purple waistcoat. The latent chromophobia it had induced was evidently some form of a coping mechanism. She nodded for him to continue.
“Wednesday the 17th—Arrived at work to find a vase of lilacs on the reception desk.”
“How did you react to that?”
Jones’ eyes widened. “How do you think? I turned around and went home. Called in sick. It was too risky! What if… What if he had left them there as a warning… a calling card? What if he’s infiltrated my workplace?”
K scratched out another note. “You’re talking about the man in the purple waistcoat?”
Jones sat back, his face reddening. “I know what you’re thinking! Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, right? Well, how about this!” He waved the book in the air. “Some of the office girls arranged an after-work get-together, but when I got the invite, there was an emoji at the bottom! The purple smiling devil!” Jones leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “They’re all in on it, I’m telling you! He’s coming for me!” He huddled over the journal, rocking back and forth. “I’m next.”
K placed her hands on her lap and let her face fall into a practiced expression of sympathy.
“Mr. Jones,” she began. “You witnessed a horrible accident. The authorities said the hotel sign had been hanging loose for months. It could have fallen on any passerby during that time. Why, another few seconds and it could have fallen on you instead of that old lady. It’s perfectly natural to feel unsafe when you’ve witnessed such a misfortune, but—”
“That doesn’t explain him!” Jones pointed an accusatory finger toward the door. “He was there when it happened—the man in the purple waistcoat. Right there, looking at me from across the street like a… a damned ghoul! Everyone dashing around, panicking, but not him. He just stood there, smiling. He was actually smiling!”
K picked up the clipboard. “I’m going to write you a prescription, Mr. Jones. Something to help you sleep and calm your anxiety.” She considered him earnestly. “In the meantime, I would like you to continue the journal. It’s important you begin to normalize the color purple. See it as a regular thing, without looking for patterns and omens. I’ll have Wanda arrange another session for us soon.”
Jones’ face crumpled, and he stood and left the office without a word.
K had barely begun compiling her notes when she heard the scream.
Dashing out into the lobby, she found her secretary frozen by the window. Outside, a car with a dented hood smoked in the middle of the road. “What happened?” K demanded.
Wanda spun around. “I was outlining the prescription to him when he bolted. It was like he’d seen a ghost!” She clutched her hands to her chest, and K’s eyes gravitated to the brooch pinned to Wanda’s lapel. An ornate amethyst glittered at its center.
“Call an ambulance!” K flung open the lobby door and rushed onto the street.
Jones lay in the center of the road, five feet away from the car, silent and unmoving. By his outstretched hand, the pages of his journal fluttered in the evening breeze. Blood pooled around his head as car horns blared. The driver of the vehicle stood by his open door, arms flailing as he shouted above the din. “He ran right out in front of me! You all saw it. It was an accident!”
Horrified pedestrians buzzed back and forth, and cell phone cameras flashed. Yet amid the chaos, one figure was stationary. He stood by the entrance to an alleyway, entirely unremarkable save the unusual extravagance of his purple vest.
His gaze sliced through the crowd to land upon K. Their eyes locked as the corners of his mouth twisted upward. A distant siren began to creep into K’s consciousness. Someone needed her help, but she could focus on nothing but the man in the purple waistcoat. His sinister sneer seemed to stretch ever higher as he nodded to her, then he turned and disappeared down the alley.
“A ghoul,” muttered K, shaking her head as her eyes fluttered back to the body in the road.
Smiling. He had actually been smiling.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nice spooky tension! Is Dr. K next?
Yikes, creepy!
So creepy! Very well done. Now I want a follow-up where she hunts down this smiling sadist.
Well-executed, scary, with a nice reveal. Almost seemed comical at first until it twists at the end.
Thanks everyone. I’m glad you enjoyed this one. If anyone would like to keep up with my other stories, I’m making my first tentative steps into social media @MTeasdalewriter on Twitter.
Thanks for your interesting comments and suggestions. Maybe there’s more to this mystery yet…
Ah, well done! If I remember correctly, you have that creepy vibe down in your stories. This one is both humorous and chilling. Nice mix!