What's up, Doc?

When I was seven, my brother vanished. It makes no sense, but it happened. I never talked to anyone about it. I couldn’t. The truth was so fucked up, nobody would ever believe me. 

My brother liked to borrow dad’s car after dad was asleep, and sneak into empty houses in the area just to look around. He kept saying he was gonna get into the crazy place way in the back of the neighborhood. In fact, as the local kids always said, this place was so old it was built during the civil war era. It was kinda like a plantation style home, with tall white columns. The walls were mildewed after years of neglect. We all knew about the old guy who lived there. Everyone knew him as Doc, though nobody seemed to know why. He used to cut his grass in a three piece suit. He had one of the unpowered mowers with the rolling blade thing, and it was popular to drive by whenever he was out there mowing and yell, “What’s up, Doc?” Yeah, kids are hilarious.

Doc drove a giant, white Pontiac Bonneville. It looked like a hearse. Most nights, Doc would get in the Bonneville and drive off around midnight, and wouldn’t come back until around five or six in the morning. It was during one of these nights that my brother decided to make his move. I think in his mind he gambled that if he was able to get inside the place he could impress this girl in his class that he was all sweet on. 

He waited a few houses down in my dad’s car, hunched down so Doc wouldn’t see him. Right at midnight, Doc came out of his house, got in the Bonnie, and drove away. 

My brother found the back door unlocked, and so he walked in. 

The house was virtually empty. There was almost no furniture in any of the rooms. The walls were filthy. It looked like the place had been abandoned. Every once in a while, he would find the skeleton of a little animal like a bird or a mouse, but beyond that there was little more than dust. As scared as he was, he felt compelled to keep looking around. He headed up the stairs. 

On the upper floor, the hallway was laid out in a threadbare rug that ran the length of the hall. On either side were rooms, and each room’s door stood open. They were all empty save for one, and that one had a makeshift bed in one corner, which was comprised of broken down boxes and some absolutely filthy and stained bedding. The room had a sickeningly sweet odor. 

At the end of the hall was one more room, but the door to this room was closed. from beneath the door, my brother could see a bright light emanating out. He stood at the door and put his ear to it. He could hear a scratching sound. He kept listening, and kept hearing the “scratch, scratch,” clearly coming from inside. 

He stood there for a minute or so and then he tried the handle. 

It was unlocked.

As he stepped into the room he was assaulted by a bright, white light. It was like a fluorescent light, only brighter. Unnaturally so. 

And in the center of the room was a table. Also bright, and glowing the same white light. And at the table sat Doc. He was wearing his dingy grey suit, and he was sitting facing my brother. His left hand was furiously scratching on the surface of the table. There was a rut worn into the table and there were white shavings piled around the rut. Doc was looking down at the table and didn’t seem to notice my brother, who was so terrified he was frozen. In the man’s right hand appeared to be a stopwatch. Suddenly the man stopped scratching. And then he turned his head up at my brother. My brother says he felt as though the man was signaling him to come forward, and that my brother felt drawn to approach the table despite being so frightened he literally pissed himself.

As he walked up to the edge of the table, the old man pointed into his right hand while staring at my brother with his empty, lifeless eyes. My brother looked at the watch, reached out and took it from Doc’s hand. Immediately the old man went back to scratching even more furiously than before. My brother pushed the button to open the watch. Inside, the hands were missing. And weirder still, the numbers went backwards. And then he noticed that inside the cover of the watch it was like looking out a window into the night sky. Impossible as it was, my brother could literally see through the inside of the watch cover into the stars. The scratching grew louder, and now the old man was whimpering. My brother took his finger and moved it towards the watch cover. The moment he reached the opening everything went black.

The next thing he remembered was coming to in my dad’s car. The sun was coming up. He was completely confused and totally horrified. The watch was in his hand. He drove home. 

That morning he came into my room, woke me up, and told me the whole story. He was crying like a child. He smelled like piss. He looked and sounded so bad, I myself was almost as scared as he was. He made me promise not to tell dad what happened. He handed me the watch, and said, “No matter what you do, never, ever open this watch.”

When I woke up, he was gone. 

For good. 

We never saw him again. 

I never told my dad what happened because I was too scared. Eventually my dad drank himself to death after I left for college. I felt guilty for not telling him, but what would have been the point? Would he have believed me anyway? 

As for the watch, it never left my side. I never once opened it, though I must admit the desire to do so was often almost overwhelming.

Years later, I was living in another state. I was single. Had no friends. I had a job with the state, a little house on the outskirts of town, and a drinking problem of my own. 

No matter what I did, I couldn’t forget the story my brother told me. 

One night, I fell asleep in front of the TV like I usually did. I woke up hours later, got up, turned the TV off and was about to head to bed when I heard what seemed to be a faint scratching on the door. 

I was gripped with horror. 

When I looked towards the door, I saw an impossible white light around the cracks. 

I don’t know why. I don’t know why. I took the watch from my robe pocket. I know I promised. I know I did. But I opened it.