Gerard Dupree: A Short Story
(The Artist)
There were plenty of complaints from the people downstairs. That a man living on the fifth floor had been screaming he was going to kill himself.
A couple of residents on the same floor had reported episodes of weeping and loud ghost like wails, coming from Mr. Dupree’s apartment. Then, silence. Which was quickly followed by a horrible rotting stench. Nobody saw him outside of the apartment. Not on the train to work either.
Gerard Dupree was a renowned sculptor. Like most artists, he kept to himself. Often called a narcissist, for his love of individuality. “Every person is unique in some way, I am just more unique,” He would say.
Ms. Kittery, a quiet elderly woman who lived above Gerard, files a report. She tells Officer …show more content…
Dupree, this is Officer Boyle, I need to have a word with you,” The door opens, slowly. Gerard Dupree looks exhausted, with black bags underneath both eyes, and grey scruff on his face. “Please help me, “He whispers. Coming in, Boyle nearly slips on a puddle of blood, on the floor. There is a body in the living room, on its back, with flies buzzing around it. Boyle gags, unlatching the baton from his waist.
“There is only one! “Gerard points a shaky finger at the body. Boyle blinks twice. On the floor, is a bloody Gerard Dupree. Standing next to a horrified Boyle, however, is Gerard Dupree. “I was ambushed at the train station. This stranger pulls on my collar, so I turn around, and it’s him! What are the odds in the entire galaxy, you say!”
Gerard collapses, crawling over to Boyle’s feet. Rocking back and forth. “He found me. I told—him, …this was extraordinary, that we should talk back at my apartment,” Gerard grits, pushing his face into a cruel smirk. He looks up at Boyle. “I-knew that it was—a lie, I—I…had to KILL him! Don’t you understand!” Gerard screams. Boyle shakes him off, retreating out of the room. Pale faced and shaking, with a hand on his radio. “There can be only one,” Gerard rolls over, laughing maniacally. Saying it over and over. Gone mad.
There were plenty of complaints from the people downstairs. That a man living on the fifth floor had been screaming he was going to kill himself.
A couple of residents on the same floor had reported episodes of weeping and loud ghost like wails, coming from Mr. Dupree’s apartment. Then, silence. Which was quickly followed by a horrible rotting stench. Nobody saw him outside of the apartment. Not on the train to work either.
Gerard Dupree was a renowned sculptor. Like most artists, he kept to himself. Often called a narcissist, for his love of individuality. “Every person is unique in some way, I am just more unique,” He would say.
Ms. Kittery, a quiet elderly woman who lived above Gerard, files a report. She tells Officer …show more content…
Dupree, this is Officer Boyle, I need to have a word with you,” The door opens, slowly. Gerard Dupree looks exhausted, with black bags underneath both eyes, and grey scruff on his face. “Please help me, “He whispers. Coming in, Boyle nearly slips on a puddle of blood, on the floor. There is a body in the living room, on its back, with flies buzzing around it. Boyle gags, unlatching the baton from his waist.
“There is only one! “Gerard points a shaky finger at the body. Boyle blinks twice. On the floor, is a bloody Gerard Dupree. Standing next to a horrified Boyle, however, is Gerard Dupree. “I was ambushed at the train station. This stranger pulls on my collar, so I turn around, and it’s him! What are the odds in the entire galaxy, you say!”
Gerard collapses, crawling over to Boyle’s feet. Rocking back and forth. “He found me. I told—him, …this was extraordinary, that we should talk back at my apartment,” Gerard grits, pushing his face into a cruel smirk. He looks up at Boyle. “I-knew that it was—a lie, I—I…had to KILL him! Don’t you understand!” Gerard screams. Boyle shakes him off, retreating out of the room. Pale faced and shaking, with a hand on his radio. “There can be only one,” Gerard rolls over, laughing maniacally. Saying it over and over. Gone mad.