The Man on 113th street

Nyah Blake

Creative Writing

Spring 2020

                                             The Man on 113th Street

There is a tiny old house on the corner of 113th street. I always have to walk past it to get to my house from school, as the bus stop is right across the street from it. I’m not one to be scared easily but the house itself accompanied by the little old man who lives there gives me the heebie jeebies. My friends and I always kinda felt bad for the man. He’s old and crippled living by himself. He doesn’t seem to have any family, as i never see anybody go in or out of the house besides him. He doesn’t even really leave the house himself. You always just see him sitting in his chair, looking out the dirty old window. I don’t know what he could be staring at all day, maybe the people going by, the bus going by, who knows. He’s just always staring out that window. 

One day as my friend Sara and I got off of the bus from school, we saw the old man outside of his house struggling to pick up some mail that had fallen on the ground. We both decided we should help him. It wouldn’t hurt because we had to walk past anyway. As we approached him, we could see how old and skinny he really was. I started to feel even worse for the man. His eyes were sunken in, giving his face a dark appearance. His face was very pale, almost sickly looking. 

“Hey sir, do you need any help with that mail? We can help, ``I said loudly. I think it was a little too loud, as I nearly gave him a heart attack.

“ Oh! Hello there.” He said in a raspy voice. Once he looked up at us, his gaze never left. He looked us up and down, and began to stand up.

“I could use some help.” he said with a slight grin on his face.

We picked up his mail and gave it to him. 

“Thank you ladies.” He said.

“Your welcome.” We answered as we began to walk away.

“You ladies don’t want to come in for a bit? I have some cookies as a little thank you gift.” 

“No thank you, we have tons of homework to do.” I answered.  I was a bit shocked that he invited us in. I also felt bad because I knew he was lonely and only wanted friends, but I just couldn’t. Something felt.. Off.

“Okay.. i can bring out the cookies for you if you don’t want to come in.” he said as he looked down to the floor.

“No thanks, bye!” i said , grabbing Sarah's hand while walking fast.

“He’s so adorable!” said Sarah, cupping her hands together.

“Yea..”

“What's wrong?” Sarah asked.

“He gives me a weird feeling. Maybe i'm overreacting, but his eyes look so.. Cold.” 

“ You’re overreacting! It’s because you watch all of those fucking murder mysterys!” Sarah said giggling.

“Yea.. maybe you're right.”

Sarah and I walked home, and finished our homework together. But i couldn’t stop thinking about that old man. 

 Throughout the weeks, we saw him only from his window, staring back at us. We’d wave, but that was all. One day Sarah and I saw him outside again struggling. This time he was struggling with a box. A big box. I’ve never seen a package or box get delivered to his house, but then again i don’t live there. Maybe he does get packages. 

“Let’s go help him again!” Sarah said, excited.

“Uh..are you sure? We have homework..” i said nervously.

“It won’t take that long! And when do you actually give a shit about homework?” Sarah said, catching on.

“This isn’t about homework is it.. You're being paranoid. Again.” she said while crossing her arms.

“I’m not.. I'm just cautious Sarah. We don’t know him that well. We aren’t his personal helpers either.”

“Stop thinking the worst! He’s a fragile old man who walks with a cane. He can barely stand up right, let alone attack someone who’s helped him! Stop being like that!” She grabs my hand and walks up to the old man.

“Hi sir! We can help again!” she says ecstatically.

He turns around slowly. His face goes from stern to a small grin. 

“ Thank you ladies,” he says.

We both pick up the box, one side in each of our hands.

“Where do we put it?” Sarah asked.Sarah and I walked home, and finished our homework together. But i couldn’t stop thinking about that old man. 

 Throughout the weeks, we saw him only from his window, staring back at us. We’d wave, but that was all. One day Sarah and I saw him outside again struggling. This time he was struggling with a box. A big box. I’ve never seen a package or box get delivered to his house, but then again i don’t live there. Maybe he does get packages. 

“Let’s go help him again!” Sarah said, excited.

“Uh..are you sure? We have homework..” i said nervously.

“It won’t take that long! And when do you actually give a shit about homework?” Sarah said, catching on.

“This isn’t about homework is it.. You're being paranoid. Again.” she said while crossing her arms.

“I’m not.. I'm just cautious Sarah. We don’t know him that well. We aren’t his personal helpers either.”

“Stop thinking the worst! He’s a fragile old man who walks with a cane. He can barely stand up right, let alone attack someone who’s helped him! Stop being like that!” She grabs my hand and walks up to the old man.

“Hi sir! We can help again!” she says ecstatically.

He turns around slowly. His face goes from stern to a small grin. 

“ Thank you ladies,” he says.

We both pick up the box, one side in each of our hands.

“Where do we put it?” Sarah asked.

“Inside, on the floor by the heater.”

I began to get the chills. Inside? I did not wanna go inside. I thought he’d ask us to leave it in his doorway, not in his fucking house. The UPS doesn't even put the package inside for you. They barely even leave it in your doorway.

“Okay!” Sarah walks in and I follow.

“Where’s the heater?” Sarah says.

We are now completely inside his house. I’m nervous, and none of us see a heater.

“Oh it’s a little further down.” He says pointing.

He comes inside and closes the door behind him.

We finally placed the box down, and began to walk towards the door.

“All done!” Sarah says.

“I really appreciate you ladies for helping me out, nobody else ever offers to. A lonely old man like me really needs that sometimes. Please, stay for some cookies. I hate for you to help me and get nothing in return for your work. I’d give you money, but i’m broke.” He says.

Before I could even get out an excuse, Sarah blurts out “ Of course! Our homework can wait!”

Why the fuck is she so friendly? We sit on the couch, and wait for him to get our cookies.

10 minutes have passed, and our cookies aren’t out yet. I don’t know if he’s making them or what, but i don’t fucking want them.

All of a sudden, we hear a crash.

We run towards the kitchen, and see that he has fallen.

“GO TO THE BATHROOM DOWN THE HALL  AND GET MY PILLS OUT OF THE FIRST CABINET BY THE DOOR! HURRY! I NEED IT!” he shouts.

We both run as fast as we can. We get to the bathroom and search for the pills. Theres fucking 20 different bottles. 

“WHAT'S THE NA-” 

Before we can even ask the name of the pills, the door slams and locks.

“THE FUCK?” I yell.

We struggle and bang on the door.

“ DID YOU LOCK US IN?” Sarah yells.

“I’m sorry..” he says in a low tone.

I grab Sarah, and whisper to call 911. Then i remembered our bags were in the fucking living room, where we left them. I cant fucking believe it. My gut was fucking right. Suddenly, the door swings open. The old man is now standing without a cane staring at us. Just staring. Sarah and I don’t know what to think. Sarah decides to make a run for it. He grabs her.

“LET ME GO! PLEASE SIR!” she yells while flailing her arms.

“ I can’t…” he says. 

He begins to drag Sarah away. I ran towards the old man, kicking him in the nuts. He dropped Sarah, and i grabbed her while screaming “FUCKING RUN” at the top of my

lungs. The old man is on the floor in pain. I grabbed our bags off of the floor and ran as fast as I could, with tears in my eyes.

Sarah and I ran all the way to my house, screaming and crying. When we reached home, we told our parents and they called the police. Later, it was found that the old man was holding 3 missing teenage girls in his attic. Thankfully, they were alive.

I knew we shouldn’t have gone inside of the house. I had always felt a weird vibe from the old man. From his gaze, to his very raspy voice, to his old shabby house. We let our kindness and naiveness get to us. If I could go back in time and change everything, I would never help the man that lives on 113th street.