Scratches by S.C.

Scratches     

It was a dark and stormy October night in Edinburgh City. There was an acrid taste of smoke in the air, results of all the fireworks being set of in anticipation of Bonfire Night. Rain was pouring down the sides of buildings, creating a grey sense of damp despair before mixing with fresh blood running into an alley and down a gutter.  Detective Sergeant Damian Clark was the first to arrive at the murder scene after the Scene of Crime Officers or SOCOS. According to the onsite doctor, the victim’s death had been caused by severe blood loss and lesions to the chest and stomach, but that was pretty obvious to DS Clark given the amount of blood spattered on the walls of the alley and the smell of the remainder of intestines that were hanging from the cuts raked across the victim’s stomach.

Despite the horrific injuries, the man was surprisingly easy to I.D. According to a bus pass and credit card the man’s name was John Newbury, a civil servant from The Borders. DS Clark wondered what had brought him so far from home and the more pressing matter of what had killed him. There were no signs of a struggle. The credit card and cash in the wallet ruled out a mugging gone wrong. Nothing indicated a serial killing and there was nothing to indicate any form of racial crime.

The remains of the body were being loaded into a police van to be taken to the state pathologist and any other evidence was being loaded into a police van to be taken to the local forensics lab. With the Scene of Crime Officers wrapping up, DS Clark decided to call it a night and head home. He would start on the case tomorrow when he had more time and resources.

DS Clark was expecting an easy night, but this case had decided it wanted to be solved. It was (according to the un-reliable digital alarm clock by his bed) two in the morning when Damian was woken by a sharp short bang. He assumed it was the fireworks again, but then remembered that nobody in his flat block was stupid enough to set off fireworks in the corridors. After getting up out of bed to make sure he wasn’t being robbed, Damian heard a distinct scratching noise. It took him a few minutes to realise that the scratching was coming from outside his front door. He slowly started walking towards the door. As he did, the scratching got faster and louder, as if something was trying to get in. Damian’s heart was racing as he neared the door, his arm outstretched ready to open the door. As soon as he made contact with the doors handle, the scratching stopped and another sharp short bang echoed through the outside corridor. This bang was closer than the last. With sweat trickling down his face Damian wrenched open the door. There was nothing. Damian thought he must have been going crazy, but he was sure he’d heard the bangs and the scratching. Looking at the door confirmed he wasn’t, as it was perforated with at least a hundred deep scratches bored into his oak door, as if something had tried to claw its way in.

Once his heart had stopped going a mile minute, Damian slipped into his police detective mindset and began to notice subtle things about this altogether creepy situation. There was an acrid metallic taste in the air, and the corridors floors were also scarred with light scratches, but they were intermittent, as if the “thing” that was at the door had been leaping down the corridor. But these gaps were much too far apart. “What sort of animal could have jumped like this?” Damian pondered out loud. While he was itching to find out more about this creature, it was late, and human nature told him that unless he went back to bed and got some sleep, work would be hell tomorrow. He returned to his flat, but before he got into bed he locked every window and door in his flat. Despite the fact that his heart was still pounding, he was soon fast asleep. So quickly did he fall asleep, that he didn’t hear the series of short sharp bangs, echoing down his road.