Dear Dad,
Let’s try to be serious about this and not beat a dead horse; you’re a piece of shit that’s for sure. Whatever bullshit reasons you come up with for what you’ve done, you can take it and shove it straight up your ass. You see, the great thing about this e-mail is that I’m not gonna wait until years from now when I’m completely fucked up and all the emotional and psychological damage you’ve done to me starts to accumulate unchecked and it messes up my personal life to the point where I take it out on everyone who matters. I am not going to wait until you’re old and withered and laying on your death bed before we can make amends and move on because of some kind of catharsis or revelation that our mutual forgiveness is supposed to bring about.
No. Fuck that.
I’m dealing with it now, while you’re still in your prime and you still have all of your wits about you. I’m going to kill you and I want you to know that I’m not saving it as some sort of surprise. I want you to know that you’re death is coming, I want you to expect it. I want you to mark it down on your mortal calendar and affix a date and time to it so that the epithet on your headstone becomes a repository of your miserable end. Consider this to be a dead reckoning.
-Frank-
…
Dear Frank,
My son, I can see that you are filled with anger because of those horrible days of your childhood. Growing up in that Maunawili house was not a good thing for anyone of us; yourself included. What I wouldn’t give if things had been different. Frank, you’re a grown man with a mind of your own. It is for this reason that I urge you to clear the rage from your mind and heart so that you may clearly recall the circumstances surrounding your younger life while growing up in that house.
That home was never a good place, ever. Your mother and I had invested all of the money that we’d saved up to buy that house so that we your parents could provide you with a better life. Who would have known that the house had a life of it’s own? The previous owners said nothing to us but we should have know better; the price they were asking for was a steal and we couldn’t pass it up.
Try to remember Frank when it all started, try to remember how the evil in that house had an effect on all of us. Unfortunately, you bore the brunt of everything. Poor Frank, my poor son, so innocent and yet you were the one who became most corrupted by the abhorrent evil which permeated our home. How loathsome you are of me Frank; please remember that it was we, your family who tried to relieve you of your suffering. You were too far gone. We had no choice but to institutionalize you. By this e-mail I am assuming that you’re better? If so, I am happy to know it.
We love you Frank!
Dad
…
Dear Dad,
The only evil that ever permeated that house was you because evil was what you did. Your abuse of me was one thing, but what you did to my sister and my mother was something worse. I’ll be taking revenge on their behalf as well. I know where to find you if you haven’t already guessed? I know all of your habits, your comings and goings. I know that what color shirt you decide to wear on any given day depends on your mood; you’re so fucking transparent it’s not even funny. Could you be more predictable?
-Frank-
…
Son,
I implore you to find a quiet place where there are no distractions, no ambient noise or the need for electronics. It should be a place with soothing winds and the kind of weather that is most agreeable to your over all disposition. This is where you should have clarity. By clarity, I mean clarity of thought and recollection. Frank, the abuse that you say your sister and mother suffered was not done by my hands but by yours. It was I who knew and eventually witnessed your mark on them my son. I tried to stay silent and ignore it as best I could until finally you forced my hand. Disciplining you as a child was one matter but to have to take my fists to you because of your uncontrollable lust for your own sister and mother? It broke my heart to do it Frank, but I had no choice. You’d become a completely different person, you were like a stranger. When I looked into your eyes on that fateful day, I saw that the son I once loved was gone. You were no longer there, it was someone else. Please try to remember this, please try to put your pride and ego aside. Please free yourself Frank.
Dad
…
Dear Dad,
The typical habit of a liar is to deflect the truth away from themselves and to place it elsewhere or on some other person. It’s called, “Suspending disbelief,” but you’re not that talented, I see right through your bullshit. This is what an abusive person does, they place the blame on the abused until that abused person is truly convinced that the abuse is their fault. Nice try you prick, but it doesn’t work on me. I know the game inside and out, I’m immune to your fucked up mind tricks. Even as I’m writing this e-mail to you, I’m holding on to the knife that I’m going to gut you with. I know this knife like I know the back of my hand. I know it from hilt to tip. I’ve already measured the length of it and how far in to your chest it will go before it pierces your heart. However, I’m going to soften you up first with an aluminum bat. That way you won’t be able to resist or put up a fight and I can filet your insides without any hassle. Fair is fair.
-Frank-
….
Son,
I can clearly remember the day when you were born and how upset your grandmother was that the nurse hadn’t cleaned you off properly. She made such a big scene. Even as an infant you were so smart, whenever you saw us standing at the crib you would roll yourself toward us. We couldn’t get over just how precious you were. You adjusted to preschool very well and you had no trouble making friends; the teachers loved you because you were such a bright student. Our life as a family was a beautiful one until we moved into the house at Maunawili.
Everything changed almost over night; there was always a feeling that the house should have never been built upon the spot where it stood. Even the neighbors said so. Do you remember how things around the home would disappear and re-appear a short time later? What about the foul odors or the constant chill on days when the sun was out? Do you remember the voices we would all hear at the dinner table or when we were in the living room watching television?
I mentioned in my previous e-mail to you that you were the one who was most affected because as you grew into your teenage years you began to watch those paranormal ghost hunting shows on T.V. You downloaded a ghost radar app on your phone and you purchased an ovilus because you wanted to communicate directly with whatever it was that haunted our house. Those things were a kind of opening to let them through, and let them through you did. You became possessed Frank. Whatever it was that took over your body caused you to do horrible things to your family. We called a roman catholic priest to perform an exorcism on you but it did not go well, for in your state of possession you nearly killed the old priest. Our neighbors offered the services of a Kahuna but we refused because we thought the old Hawaiian woman who lived next door was a backwards savage. How wrong we were. We turned away our only salvation.
When everything seemed to be hopeless we were left with no choice but to commit you to an institution Frank.
As you e-mail me now I still fear that the entity that has a hold of you is the one that sends these electronic messages. I know that you’re in there Frank, I know that you are reading this and if you are, we love you. We love you. Fight it my son, fight it and be free.
Dad
…
Dear Dad,
You come across like one of those alien guys from the twilight zone. Too squeaky clean, too nice and too perfect. You can’t stop the inevitable, it’s like birth, old age and death. It’s a fact of life that cannot be avoided. I wanted to tell you that I can’t wait to see the look on your face but really, I can’t wait for you to see the look on MY face. Satisfaction guaranteed Dad, I never disappoint.
-Frank-
…
Frank,
I don’t know what else to tell you. I’ve tried to help you see the truth of why you are in such a state of extreme duress. I will help you with your resolve to end my life by meeting you at the old Maunawili house. If you haven’t been following up, it’s empty now, completely abandoned. After we failed at trying to exorcise the evil entity from you and had you committed, we moved out. If only we had trusted the word of our kind neighbor, Mrs. Pili, you and I would not be exchanging e-mails as we are doing now. Ah well, live and learn. We did not bother to try and sell the home because we could not bring ourselves to place such a horrible burden on another family. I will meet you there where it all began Frank. Then, perhaps the truth of what I’ve been trying to tell you all along will come to you. If I were able, I would bring Glory and your mother along as well but as we know, that is now impossible. At noon tomorrow Frank, I’ll see you there.
Dad
…
Dad,
Oh happy day! I’ll be like a kid in a candy store Dad! I won’t know where to begin with so many choices to make! You’re the best Dad ever!
-Frank-
…
Mrs. Pili was gravely concerned when she began to notice a strange blue glow within the abandoned house next door. It seemed to suddenly appear one night and then it was there every night since. The Thomas family abandoned that house altogether right after Bob Thomas found his wife Kate and his daughter Glory laying in a pool of their own blood. Near the bodies sat their only son Frank calmly sending out an e-mail on his laptop to his father, Bob.
“Dear Bob,
Your son is in here with us. Come and get him if you can.
-The Many- “
…
The gravity of the situation hit Bob Thomas like a ton of bricks. Mrs. Pili had told the Thomas family exactly what was wrong with their property but they would not listen to her and decided to consult other kinds of help. Things only went down hill from there. However, Mrs. Pili prayed every night for the safety of the Thomas ‘ohana but to no avail. The mana of the spirits in that house was much too powerful and it slowly destroyed the family piece by piece. On that fateful day, Mrs. Pili watched as Frank Thomas calmly walked to the police car with two burly officers on either side of him. He was later declared clinically insane and was institutionalized. Otherwise, how was anyone going to prove that Frank was spiritually possessed by evil spirits who motivated him to murder his own mother and sister?
Realtors could not sell the house and developers were too afraid to take it down and so it stood like a silent sentinel of evil. Mrs. Pili was now alone with no family who was willing to stay with her or at least let her stay with them. She’d spent her time doing busy work so that the loneliness wouldn’t set in and cause her to think mournful thoughts in regards to her situation. She felt that the old Thomas house fed on that kind of human frailty, she felt that the evil in the house always used opportunities like that as a way in to influence the mind.
All of that changed when she saw Bob Thomas pull up to the old driveway of his former home. When the dust cleared, she watched as he exited his car and made his way toward the shell of what was once his family domicile. Her heart jumped into her throat and she made a frantic effort to get his attention by waving at him from behind her screen window,
“Huuuuiiii...!!!! Huuuuiiii...!!!! Bob! Bob! No! No go in dea! Bob!!!” She screamed as best she could but she had gained at least 100 pounds since the last time she’d seen Bob Thomas and the sudden excitement caused her breathing to become labored. She shuffled out of the kitchen door which led to her overgrown lawn. She had to conserve her energy, she couldn’t call out to him while running at the same time, it would surely give her a heart attack. She prayed with all of her might that she would arrive in time. The journey almost seemed to be endless even though it was 10 feet away, but she finally made it to the foot of the front door. It took a herculean effort for Mrs. Pili to use the railing in order to pull herself up the seven steps before she made it to the landing. Her heart was racing and she was severely short of breath and she needed a moment to gather herself but she never got the chance.
Standing in front of her was the ghost of Frank Thomas. He was older, taller and threatening. Before she could manage a Hawaiian prayer to protect herself, Frank’s ghost took possession of her body. In her mind she heard Frank’s voice along with the voices of many others at the same time.
“No Makou”
(Ours)
…
Mrs. Pili could only see her actions but she could not stop herself from what her body began to do. She walked into the abandoned shell of the old Thomas house and saw Mr. Thomas standing in the musty space which used to be the living room. In front of him was the dead body of his son Frank Thomas sitting in front of a laptop, with his hands on the keyboard. Coagulated blood filled the spaces between each letter while some it slowly trickled from the huge vertical gashes beneath his wrists. Rigor Mortis had long since set in and Mrs. Pili saw that Bob was having a hard time wresting the corpse of his son off of the old wooden chair. Poor Mr. Thomas, his mournful wailing could have waked the dead but no matter, his son Frank had already done that years ago and now they were back. Bob held Frank close to him and cried like a child, his heart was obviously broken by the time he’d seen Mrs. Pili standing in front of him.
“Mrs. Pili !” He sobbed. “I should have listened to you before, I should have listened! Look at my son Mrs. Pili ! Look what they did to him! He was here the whole time, he was e-mailing me from this goddamned house the whole time!”
Mrs. Pili was helpless to fight against the malevolent forces that now controlled her body. She picked up the chair by the back rest and swung it in a wide arc where it shattered in pieces over Bob’s head. The blow knocked him senseless but Mrs. Pili was on him before he had a chance to recover. She quickly grabbed one of the legs from the chair and shoved it straight through Mr. Thomas’ Adams apple. Before Bob could recoil from the pain, Mrs. Pili had already grabbed him by his hair and repeatedly stabbed him in the throat. Once she was sure that Bob Thomas was dead, she grabbed the laptop and walked it over to the dirty kitchen counter and immediately began to type up an e-mail.
…
Dear Malia,
Let’s not kid ourselves, you’re the worst daughter ever. I hate you and I regret the day that I gave birth to you. It’s promising that you are still youthful and filled with a zeal for life. That will make killing you all the more enjoyable.”
-Mom-
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