John

Crossing the room, John was able to climb onto the night table beside the bed via a cord attached to the lamp on the bedside table. Taking a running start, he jumped across the space between the table and the bed, rolling forward when he landed. Standing up, he smirked to himself as he looked at the distance he crossed.

Moving across the bed, he climbed over all of their clothes, the smell of smoke from the fire at the party lingering faintly to the fabric, until he found his pants and navigated down to his hip pocket where he kept his cell phone. He hadn’t used his phone much at the party, a couple of photos, but that was all, so he figured he should still have some juice left in it.

Pulling the phone out of his pocket proved to be a difficult task given his size. He actually wished Charles was there to help, though he doubted Charles would have been able to climb the cord. Able to extract the phone far enough to activate it, he swiped his hand across the screen, there was a no service indicator, and an emergency calls only message. The battery read thirteen percent. Touching the small green phone icon in the lower left of the phone, his keypad came up. He touched 9, then 1, then another 1. The phone started ringing.

“911 operator, what is the nature of your emergency?” asked the welcomed female voice from the other end of the line, a slight drawl in her speech.

John clenched both fists and shook them triumphantly. Leaning in close to the microphone, “I’m trapped in a house and one of my friends is dead,” he said, voice excited.

“If you are in immediate danger, please take yourself to a place of safety and if you can please remain on the line,” she instructed.

“I think I’m safe for the moment, but like I said, one of my friends is dead and another one maybe too, I don’t know,” he said.

“Alright sir, what’s your name?” asked the operator.

“John, John Haddonfield,” he answered.

“Okay John, can you tell me what is going on?” encouraged the woman.

“Me, Dustin Jamison, Charles Lee, and Blake Stanton were at the party out by Wilson’s Pond. We started walking back to town and came across the old house on Townline. Looking for,” he paused, “A place to spend the night, we got trapped in the house,” he said.

“Is that your current location? The old derelict house on Townline?” asked the operator.

“Yes,” he replied. “Except, the place isn’t derelict, there’s people here and they have me and my friends trapped,” he replied.

“I see, but you feel you are okay for the time being in your current location?” inquired the operator.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’m directing one of our patrol cars and an ambulance out there immediately,” reassured the woman. John’s heart soared, but then he felt a stab of panic. What if the cops came and they met the crazy old woman and drank some of the shrinking tea, then everybody would be screwed. He needed to try and explain the unusual circumstances.

“You better send more than that,” he advised.

“You said one of your friends is deceased, can you identify who for me please John?”

“Blake, he was crushed to death,” he provided.

“Are you certain he is dead?”

“No doubt,” John answered, “His whole lowered body was squished flat.”

“Did you see this?”

He hesitated, frowning, “No, Charlie, Charles Lee, told me he saw it happen.”

“Did the house collapse on Blake, is that what is happening out there?”

“No, something else is happening right now, our lives are in danger, I’m not sure, please you got to get some help out here,” he said.

“Rescue vehicles are on the way John, I just need you to try and keep calm and stay with me on the line as long as you can safely do so, okay?” advised the woman.

“Okay.”

“That’s good, you’re doing great. What of your other friends John, what can you tell me about their current situation, do you know?”

“Dustin has been captured and I don’t know what might have happened to him. That was over an hour ago, probably two, I’m not sure. Charlie is hiding when I left him,” John said.

“Is there any assailants or other people currently in the house with you right now John that you know of?”

“Yes, there is Simone something Pucci, blonde maybe 5’6” and an Elizabeth roughly same height, and maybe an old lady named Nettie.”

“Are they in danger too john?”

 “No, they’re in the house here, stalking us.”

“Stalking you? What do you mean?”

John took in a deep breath. If he explained to the operator what was really going on, she would think he was nuts, but if he didn’t explain the situation, the cops might be walking into a trap.

“John, are you still there?” asked the operator, tone concerned.

“Yes,” he said. “I think we’ve been drugged, it’s all very confusing to try and explain.”

“Please John, it will help a lot if you can provide me with as much detail as you possibly can,” she explained.

“Okay” he started, “When we came into the house, we met an old lady and her granddaughter who gave us tea. I think the tea was poisoned or spiked or something, because after we drunk it we all passed out. When I woke up, my clothes were gone,” he supplied.

“Do you know what might have been used to drug you?”

“I don’t know, some sour ass tea or something. Tasted butt nasty.”

“But you don’t know what was in it, or even if it was tea?” she inquired.

“No, I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. Can you tell me where in the house you are currently John?”

“I’m inside what looks like a spare room downstairs off of the main hall, second door down, on the left,” he said.

“Are you hidden in a closet or under the bed?”

“Not exactly,” he replied.

“Please John, if we are able to identify where people are in the house, it will help the police and ambulance personnel find your injured friend,” she encouraged.

“Okay, now I know this is going to sound crazy and I want you to know I’m not fucking around,” he paused, trying to put the words together in an order that would sound less insane, “My friends and I have been shrunk to only a few inches in size.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, did you say, you’ve been shrunk, like made small?” asked the operator, John thought he could detect she was trying to suppress a laugh.

“That’s correct,” he answered, tone a little sour. “I told you it was going to be hard to believe, but it’s true, we were shrunken. That’s how Blake got killed, he was stepped on by Elizabeth.”

“Your friend who was crushed was stepped on?” repeated the woman.

“Yes, and they flushed his corpse down the toilet,” he stated.

Another pause.

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Sorry John, yes. Where are you currently hiding?”

“I’ll be hiding in the right front pocket of my blue jeans lying on the bed in the room I described,” he said.

“I’m sorry John, did you say, inside the pocket of your blue jeans?” she asked, this time, failing to stifle the giggle in her voice.

“I told you it would sound farfetched, but it’s true, I swear,” he asserted. “I’m not crazy or loopy.”

“Okay John,” answered the operator, controlling the mirth in her voice, “You have to admit it does sound kind of fantastic, but you did say you believe you were drugged right?”

“That’s right, but I don’t feel impaired or high, just really small.”

“Okay,” she answered, a couple of giggles. “Do you think you might be hallucinating?”

“I don’t think so, but maybe, I don’t know,” he answered. “It’s not funny. Blake is dead and god only knows what has become of Dustin.”

“And you’re small and hiding in your own pants pocket?”

“Right. Listen, I hear something from out in the hall,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Okay John emergency services should be there very soon,” she assured.

Touching the end call on his phone, he pressed the button on the side to make the screen go dark before climbing into his jeans pants pocket. He just hoped the cops would be here soon. 

The heavy sounds of footfalls descending the stairs alerted Charles to the arrival of one of the women. Lying on his side, he peeked out from his hiding place under the deacon’s bench, able to see as Simone reached the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly she stopped and Charles’s heart leapt into his throat, worried maybe she had somehow detected him. She removed a cell phone from her pants pocket and looked at the screen. She smiled at the device and brought it up to the side of her head, “911 operator, what is the nature of your emergency?” she asked, a hint of southern accent in her voice.