"JARS" by anthony nebel

I opened the door to the basement, searched for a switch and found it. The light that issued from the bulb was dim, olife in that basement seemed a blur.I looked around, boxes, trophies, and old toys thrown across the dark and damp floor. As I went down the stairs I noticed there were no webs blocking my way down, as if somebody had been there recently, less than a week ago, which is about the time we were first told about the disappearance of Mr. Thomson. The smell in the basement was of dust. Yet I could feel another smell, hiding underneath it. I sped out of the basement and into the bathroom, just in time to vomit in the toilet. It didn't take long to decide to go back into the basement, since I resolved to breathe through my mouth. I was surprised my friends were still in here, looking for evidence, clearly they still had not felt the strange odor underneath the smell of dampness and dust. I looked around searching for clues. It seemed to be that a thick curving line coming from the stairs was drawn on the dust. Still I needed more evidence. I followed the loose dust and discovered it was some kind of path. The path led to some boxes piled in the corner of the room. A dog yelped outside on the street. The faint sound of rain was produced out the window. I looked around, perfect webs, except in the corner the path led to. "Strange, very strange", i thought. I stopped wasting time and decided to uncover the mystery behind those boxes. I was now accustomed to the breathing through my mouth. The rain outside didn't give signs of recession. A partner of mine told me something i couldn't make out. i turned on my flashlight to get a clearer view. "Yes", i thought,"somebody's been in here...". i stepped on a jar on the floor and almost fell, luckily i caught a grip on the boxes at my left with my spare hand. i looked for signs of blood or anything to present as evidence. nothing. no blood, no hand marks. nothing. just a bunch of jars of all types of stuff. Pickles, jelly, peanut butter, mustard, hot peppers, but no blood. I inhaled through my nose once and the inner smell came in a big wave to hit me in the face. I almost vomited but withstood the nausea. "same everywhere", i mumbled. I opened a box from the corner, thinking I could find weapons or any other proof. Jars. I opened another box beside it, more jars. " I can't guess what this guy's savin the jars for", I mumbled to myself," better ask someone to take them away".. I told the guy nearest to me to clear the area to lood for evidence."Jars", I told him. He told another guy to help him and they both took them outside. The boxes weren't heavy. The lightest seemed to contain about twenty jars and the heaviest about forty. they took the closed boxes outside and left them piled up outside. It took fifteen minutes to clear the area. Now that it was cleared, i decided to check the walls and the floor. The walls looked old and worn by time. A few cracks protruded from the ceiling. A loose spider web hung on to the corner. Everything was dusty down here. The only clean places were where the boxes had stood and the places where the waterdrops had fallen from the two cops' pants. He checked the floor, to see if he could find any relevant clue. All he found was a huge spider feeding on a smaller one and partially damp dirt. Probably due to the dampness of the place. It was tyilight outside and still he had nothing to show or prove anything. The cops above had found nothing either, except for an empty closet and personal hygiene materials. The dairy food in the refrigerator had gone bad or moldy. They found he had a thing for jars. All the different things that filled the boxes filled the refrigerator and the cases over the counter. After two days of close inspection, the case was closed. The report stated that Charles Jayson Thomson, age 43, writer, single, had left town.

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The police never did find out of the syringes and empty bottles of Heparin, an anticoagulating drug, left in a black bag in the trash can five blocks away from Charles Thomson's residence. The boxes, picked up for recycling, somehow got mixed in a cargo heading towards Bombay. In a week they were back in the country, but remained a long time abandoned, for the city recycling center closed down due to the lack of government funds. Years later, some kids broke into what had once been the town recycling center. Atill there were a lot of things to recycle. Two weeks later the news mentioned the discovery of about 60 jars filled with parts of a corpse. The identification of the deceased was never determined. The head was missing. Poor old Jay Thomson never had a proper burial or tomb...