Case #8923: The Mysterious Case of Eugene Walker
short horror story
Eugene Walker was first brought to the attention of Bob Oppenheimer Detective Agency Incorporated at 9:45 A.M. on the date **/**/****. Whoever had sent his name in the direction of the Agency didn’t wish to be known. A nonsense throwaway email titled joe434322442322342@gmail.com was sent to one of the people who worked at the Agency and presented a face and name presumably belonging to Eugene Walker. Eugene Walker the name was placed over the photo of the photo in permanent black ink marker. It was a creepshot photo taken from the perspective of someone peeking into the house of Eugene Walker. In the photo, Eugene was seen drinking a cup of coffee and smoking a cigar. His hair was even and gray in color. He appeared to be Caucasian. He was clean-shaven. He was wearing nothing but a wrinkly white bathrobe. He seemed to be minding his own business, looking off into the distance on a clear and crisp yellow-orange morning. One of the detectives at the Agency studied the photo to get a better read of it and came away with the impression that based on the kind of architecture of the house, the man appeared to be living somewhere in the Southwestern United States. On the far side of the photo cars were bustling, which indicated that the man lived in Los Angeles, San Diego, or Phoenix, among other highly populated Southwestern areas.
Below the photo writing was made legible. Like the name Eugene Walker, it too was written in black permanent marker. The writing about the photo will be presented below.
There is not only one Eugene Walker. There is another Eugene Walker that keeps following me in my dreams and walks on my front lawn. I’ve rarely talked to Eugene. We had a weekend barbeque during the fall while his favorite sports team was playing. He doesn’t have a wife or children. He’s always been happy with me. Now, I don’t know what has been going on lately, but Eugene seems to keep reappearing even after I see him leave to go for work. He works six days a week. Where he works, I have no idea. Again, I should reiterate, I’m not all that close to my neighbor. Yeah, yeah that’s my fault. Give me a break. Now then, to get to the point. He leaves for work every morning at 6:30 A.M. on the dot. I always check. But… here he is right now, smoking a cigar… I SAW HIM LEAVE HIS PARKING LOT!!! WHY IS HE BACK!!! I have video footage as well to further corroborate my anecdotal evidence, and to prove I’m not crazy.
Other emails were sent by this same strange address. Sure enough, the man followed through on his word. What could’ve been dismissed as a simple case of someone high on some illegal narcotic and/or strong psychedelic or someone suffering from paranoid delusions was instead treated with the utmost severity by those in the Agency after having received the second email. The second email provided video footage evidence, or in the very least, it seemed to provide convincing video footage evidence of Eugene Walker leaving his house at 6:30 A.M. sharp in his car. Two hours later, another Eugene Walker, seemingly just as corporeal as the former Eugene Walker, was eating breakfast just like he was in the first photo. A detective by the name of ***** ****** who worked for the Agency asked if maybe the man for some reason decided to skip work early, come back home on foot, and walk back into his house through the back door. An implausible explanation to be sure, but certainly one among others that aligned with the laws of Nature. Unfortunately, that potentially demystifying explanation didn’t carry any weight given that the anonymous emailer clearly showed all the areas of the house with cameras recording the back of the house, the sides of the house, and the front of the house. Clearly, this man had prepared in advance to capture the strangeness of the phenomenon as he understood it, and what he hoped others would understand too. After a couple of hours of footage of the house passed by, the man chuckled and excitedly said, “See?! I told you! I told you! He’s two! And by the way, that’s not his twin. No one else lives with him. I’ve been to his house, so I know. There is 100% another Eugene. Is it a ghost!? I don’t know!? Maybe!”
Eugene Walker’s real identity was found out by someone in the Agency soon after.
There was one last email sent to the Agency. It sought to confirm those who at least was willing to give this man, who was admittedly a bit eccentric, the benefit of the doubt.
This time it was no longer a video recording of Eugene’s house. It was instead the man who had previously kept himself anonymous. The video was an unlisted YouTube video on a channel with the same nonsense name as the email address.
The man in the video appeared to show signs of mental deterioration and extreme substance abuse. There were yellow splotches and bits of decaying flesh on his face. His hair was greasy, black, and thinning. His frame was as thin as his hair. He appeared to be Caucasian. One man in the Agency suspected the man was addicted to the infamous substance known as krokodil. The background behind him was dusk. He was walking on a sidewalk. Judgments were reserved, and the video was played.
“Hey,” the man said, his phone shaking in his hand, his lips anxiously quivering, “um… So, big news! Big, big news! My days as a petty thief might soon be over! Hallelujah! Praise God! Praise Jesus! But… back to the news. Um… So, I think I saw the craziest thing. I think I’ll become famous. I’ll be like one of those ghost hunters, but for real, not like in the shows, cause’ they’re totally fake like WWE… I know it, you know it, whatev, whatever, hehe, okay, okay… Must calm done Jerry…”
His name was Jerry. One of the people in the Agency wrote that down. It was agreed upon right after that this man never had cordial relations with Eugene as he said in the photograph.
“Okay,” Jerry continued, picking up the pace of his walk in an area that now was unmistakably determined to be Los Angeles, “um… Okay. This is um… real crazy shit. Wait till I tell my friends. Wait till I tell my mom and pops. They’ll be so excited! Um… Sorry, sorry! Um…”
Jerry looked rabidly at all the pedestrians that were giving him odd stares before he returned to facing the video camera.
“Okay, so as I was looking at the footage from where I’m hiding out, and yes, I know, I was hiding in someone’s house under their floorboard, big whup, big deal, it’s not like they know I’m there or anything, I don’t even steal that much from their kitchen! Geez Louise! Um… So, this guy, this Eugene Walker. He comes back home at 7 P.M. like he always does. Usually his double disappears before he gets back. What I mean is he like walks up the stairs and doesn’t come back down before the real Eugene returns. This time the double’s still in the kitchen, sipping his beverage. Really enjoying himself. He’s been there for hours today. Not the usual routine of his, to be abso-fuckin’-lutely clear! Real Eugene returns. He goes inside his house. And…”
Jerry starts running out of nowhere.
“And! And! And! The fake Eugene sees the real Eugene! I wish I could’ve gotten this on camera! I left my phone because the double saw me! The double slowly disappeared before the real Eugene died! He died right after seeing his double! Now…”
Behind the man, an entity, which everyone who looked at the footage determined to be the second Eugene, was running after this man. The man screamed, and the footage abruptly ended.
The photo and footage were sent to parapsychologist and ghost hunter Dorothy Jenkins.
Her reply was blunt.
That was clearly a classical case of a wraith. Although I don’t know why it ran after this man.
