Deer in the headlights (Zak Bagans story)

Far from the truth

A tinkle of a bell rang as I stepped into the miniature library. The room was small in width and length but was over twelve feet in height. The book shelves matched the tallness and were filled with hundreds of books from 'how to write a letter' to 'the spirit in the woods' - my kinda book.

I peeked around the maze of shelves to find a small man, hunched in his chair, in his hand was a magnifying glass and a piece of paper. The man peered up at me, over his glasses and lowered the paper. "Tom? Is it?" I asked with a soft voice. The man pushed his glasses above his brow before leaning back in his chair, as if to study me. "Yes?…" he answered "how can I help you, son?" The man heaved himself up from his rackety chair to shake my hand. For an elderly man, he had a strong grip. "Las Vegas" he muttered.

"I'm sorry, what?" Was I hearing correctly?

"1974 was the last time I went to Vegas. With my Alice, it was" it wasn't until I realised my accent was different to these guys, did I click. But I hadn't lived in Vegas long enough to pick up the accent. I handed the man the letter, regardless. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything from this?" The man squinted down at the paper for what seemed like days. "Yes!… Ditch the lass!" He stopped.

"Pardon?"

"Look, she's clearly a menace. She-" he mumbled on to himself.

"No, you've got it wrong. I need you to tell me about the writer. Can you?" I pointed him to the name at the bottom.

He looked confused for a moment "I don't know, Zak, I'm no psychic" not once during that confrontation, had I mentioned my name…

"I'll give it a shot, any hoo" the weird and not so wise words of the elderly man certainly broke the ice. It only took the strange being thirty seconds to answer my questions "female!" His blasts of response made me jump from time to time… "Left and right handed!" I started taking note of his blabbering. "30! No, 30 years old tomorrow!" None of this was linking to anyone I knew, perhaps he was talking shit and charging me for it. "Hellfire!" Wait a second…

"What did you say?"

"Hemorrhoids"

"What? No, before that" something was familiar.

"Hellfire?" The man was confused.

"Yes! God, I knew I wasn't hearing things! What about hellfire?" I was so close to hunting this bitch down. "Well the paper…." Perhaps not "… it's from the hellfire caves museum. Alice and I visited-"

I grabbed the letter and headed to the door "that's great! Thank you"

"Erm, Zak?" An old voice called

"Oh fuck, sorry, yes, money… how much?" The old man stood there, aimlessly waving his hands in front of himself like he had his eyes closed.

"You haven't seen my guide stick have you, ol' boy?" I peered into the eyes of the confused, old man and watched as his eyes roamed around the room. "It's a bit of a bitch, this no-sight business" I couldn't catch my breath. An ancient, wooden cane was propped against the cabinet beside me. I picked it up, still in amazement, and gave it to him. "Thanks. And by the way, there's no charge… have a good day Z-man" I couldn't find the vocabulary to respond to such a thing. I just backed out of the front door and stumbled to the taxi. My feet managed to carry me to the seat of the cab but my mind was still in the shop, replaying the recent event. "They're not purely white, they're more of a magnolia but they're all they had" the driver's words were faint and the old man's words were loud and repetitive. "Sir?" I'd snapped out of it

"Erm.. Sorry. Yeah, they're perfect, thanks"

"Back to the B&B?"

"Yeah… Please" I was too distracted, caught up in the mystery of that little shop.