The Supernatural Private Detective

The Night Before Easter:

There I was in the backseat of my dad's car; skiing around a corner of a suburban street as though it were about to topple over, then regaining balance. The windscreen was foggy due to the heavy downpour, making it exceedingly difficult for my dad, who was the driver, to see. Even if the weather was good and the windscreen was clear with the headlights on, he would still have had a hard time seeing because of his eye condition.

"We're close now, son; keep a lookout for our house."

"Ok, Dad," I replied before sticking a lollipop in my mouth. I loved the taste of pineapple in candy. I closed my eyes as soon as the sour-sweet flavor slapped my cheeks, and I kept them that way to savor the taste. 

"Hey, son, is that a car?"

I opened my eyes to clock the headlights of another car on a collision course with my dad's car. I screamed. "Yes, Dad, it is a car!"

-SCREECH!

My father skillfully maneuvered to the left, while the driver in the other vehicle maneuvered to the right, avoiding what could have been a dreadful accident.

"Watch where you're going, you freaking Moron!" The driver of the other vehicle exclaimed 

Hearing the driver's comment, my father glared at the other vehicle through the side view mirror before taking a breath of relief.

"I told you to keep a lookout!" He yells as he looks in the rearview mirror to find me bending over with my hands on my head. He realized that a child would be scared after that kind of experience, so he cooled off

"Are we alive?" I asked with an innocent look on my face.

"Don't give me that look, son; we could've had an accident." My father said, focusing on the road.

I turned my head to look back at the car that almost hit us. 'Not today, death.' I thought to myself. At the time, I had recently read a cool comic book about a character named Death whose head was on fire. He drove around on a flaming motorcycle with a chain in his hand, looking to take people away when their time came.

I was still reminiscing about the comic book character when I realized my lollipop wasn't in my mouth anymore. I looked down and there It was on the car floor, covered in dirt. I pulled a tissue from my pocket and picked it up. I couldn't let that sweet pineapple go to waste.

"Dad, can I still eat this?"

"No, you can't, boy! Throw that thing out the window; it's disgusting."

I rolled down the window, acted as though I threw something out, wrapped the lollipop in the tissue, and slipped it into my pocket.

"I see our house, dad," I said the moment I saw our dark roof appear in the distance.

"I see it, son, I see it." My dad confirmed.

I looked at the time on the car's clock, and it was 10:30 pm. I had a fun but tiring day playing with my cousin Victor, so I was planning on going to bed right after finishing my lollipop. Dad rotated the steering, turning the car, which thrust through the entrance onto the drive-through and parked in front of the porch. I quickly flung the door open and jolted out of the car into the rain, running through the mud and onto the front porch. 

"Careful, boy, you're going to leave mud prints everywhere!" my father warned while he pulled out the groceries we bought. The cold weather made his breath visible as he spoke.

Shaggy, our Alsatian puppy, dashed through the doggy door and rushed on me, slobbering my face in dog spit. "Good to see you too, girl." I wiped the spit off my face with my hands, then rubbed it off on my jeans.

"Ohhhh! Now look what you did, son; who's going to clean all this mud?"

I turned my head back and looked at the porch floor to find mud prints leading to my location.

"Sorry, Dad," I said, pulling the sad face trick again.

My dad took off his shoes at the entrance of the porch before walking onto it. Suddenly, Shaggy pointed her nose at the bushes over by the fence, barking aggressively in that general direction.

"What is it, girl? Do you see something?" I scan the area, but I don't spot any oddities through the rain. and neither does my dad.

"Damn kid, leaving mud all over the porch and then paying attention to the dog," my dad mumbled. "It must be a raccoon or some other rodent." Dad pulled the keys from the pocket of his trench coat and opened the front door. "Come inside; it's cold out."

Now the rain became heavier than before, and the wind began to blow strongly. I started to get the chills, so I agreed with my dad. "Common girl, we're going in." I pulled on Shaggy's collar, trying to get her inside. But Shaggy resisted and resumed barking at the bushes.

"Oh, for the love of—" Dad expressed frustration and lifted Shaggy off the ground, carrying her inside with me tailing them from behind. "Leave your shoes outside, and you'd better clean all that mud later!"

I stopped in my tracks, bent over, and began to untie my mud-stained shoelace. I took off my shoes and hopped into the living room. Before closing the door, I took a glance at the bushes, but I still didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

Right after I shot the door, dad signaled for me to lock the dog door, which I do moments before Shaggy collides with it. She places her two front paws on it and begins to whine for someone to let her out. 

"You hungry, son? I'm making ekpang."

Ekpang Nkukwo is a Nigerian delicacy from the southern region of the country. It is prepared with freshly grated cocoyam wrapped in cocoyam leaves and boiled over a low flame. Other ingredients include crayfish, palm oil, and other spices, depending on who is cooking. It wasn't my best dish, but it was my father's. He's from Nigeria; he's the one that taught mom how to make ekpang, along with other African dishes. Mom was an amazing cook; too bad she's not around anymore.

"Dad, I miss Mom." I said, looking up at my father with sadness in my eyes.

"Of course you do." He took a brief pause. "I also miss her." Dad bent over and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Mom has gone to the big cloud in the sky."

At my young age, I knew the meaning of death. My dad tried to sugarcoat it, but I wasn't that naive. I felt as though tears were about to burst through my eyes, so I took a breath and sucked it up. "I'm not hungry, Dad; I had enough at Uncle Uche's house."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Ok, Son, suit yourself." Dad stood up and proceeded into the kitchen. I looked up at the wall clock, and the time was already fifteen minutes past eleven. Incidentally, I recalled my soiled lollipop.

"Um, Dad, I'm going to bed; I'm really tired," I said as I headed up the stairs.

"Ok, son," he responded as I moved up the stairs. I walked into the bathroom, pulled a stool towards the sink so I could reach, then I proceeded to wash the lollipop. I heard a knock on the bathroom door, and then Dad's voice saying, "Are you alright in there, son?"

"Yes, Dad; I'm just brushing my teeth."

"Ok, don't spend too much time." I bit down on the lollipop, and the sour-sweet taste of pineapple splashed in my mouth, slapping my cheeks once again, this time with much more intensity as it smashed into a million pieces, dissolving quickly in my mouth. When the candy was all gone, I picked up my toothbrush, chugged some toothpaste on it, and began vigorously brushing my teeth. I spat out, gargled, washed, placed the brush in the drawer, then hopped off the stool. I threw the lollipop stick in the trash bin and stepped out of the bathroom.

Invading my bedroom, I took my pajamas out of the wardrobe, suited up, and then hopped on my bed. After having so much fun playing pirates with my cousin Victor at Uncle Uche's place, I think the soft and comfy feeling of a well-made bed in a room covered in comic book posters was a fulfilling reward. We never found the Pirate King's Treasure, but we sure had a lot of fun.

I glanced at my alarm clock, and the time was 11:40. "That's right, tomorrow is Easter." I thought to myself. The door opened, and Shaggy ran in, circled a spot next to my bed, and laid on her belly.

"Son, let's have a little chat." My dad said, standing at the door. He walked into my room and sat next to me on the right side of my bed, where Shaggy was lying on the floor. "What do you want to be when you grow older?" He asked with a serious but warm tone in his voice.

"I want to be a policeman like Uncle Uche."

"Really, like your uncle, huh? Why is that?"

"Because I want to rid the world of the kind of people that took mom away."

The man thought about what I said for a while, then pointed out the window.

"Look at the night sky, son. What do you see?" He asked.

I turned my head towards the window, and I could see the breathtaking view of a colony of stars and a big, bright moon in the center. By this time, the rain had stopped, and the clouds had moved enough for me to behold this beautiful sight. "I see a lot of stars and the moon." I respond.

"Well, son, scientists believe that the universe is endless and constantly expanding, and that rotating around some of those stars are planets, making other solar systems just like ours." He looked at me to see if I was following. "You know what a solar system is, right?"

"Yes, I've been taught in school. I know that there are eight planets in our solar system and that our solar system is in a galaxy known as the Milky Way galaxy."

"Glad to hear your school fees are paying off." Dad smiled, with a smug look on his face. "The scientists believe that in a universe so big and endless, the possibilities of what's out there are also endless. I'm not saying that there are any aliens or anything; I'm just trying to make a point."

"I know there are no aliens, Dad." I spoke with a blank look on my face.

"While what the scientists believe may or may not be true, I believe that there are endless possibilities in this world. Your life is like a novel, an autobiography written by your own hands, and every decision you make opens a new possibility. You can make good choices, or you can make bad choices; the decision is yours." He paused and took a breath before asking. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad, I do."

"My point is that there are endless possibilities of what you can be when you get older, and you should make sure that you're making the right choice, but if a policeman is really what you want to be, then so be it. The ball is in your court; I believe God gave man free will because he wanted to see if man could make the right choices. Just know that there is nothing more important than your friends and family, not even your dream; if achieving your dream ever gets in the way of the people you care about, then you didn't make the right choices. Remember that."

He rose from my bed and walked towards the door. "Don't let what happened to your mother define who you are or who you will turn out to be," he said just before he reached for the light switch. "Remember to say a prayer before you sleep." He switched the lights off and then exited the room.

I closed my eyes, put my hands together, and then said a short prayer, asking God to lead me to make the right choices in my life. Then I glanced at my alarm clock, and it was 11:59. I looked down towards the ground to find Shaggy fast asleep; she must have dozed off in the middle of dad's speech. I drew up my duvet and covered up, peering at the alarm clock, hoping to catch the moment it clocked 12 o'clock. My eyes started to become heavy, slowly closing as I watched the alarm clock.

Then, the clock hit midnight, and at that same moment, I heard Dad scream. 

At the sound of his scream, both I and Shaggy instantly woke up. I sat upright on my bed, gripping my duvet, while Shaggy stood up straight on her four paws. Hackles up and growling, she ran straight to the door, tapping it with her paws, barking and asking for me to open it, but I was so filled with fear that I could not move.

Next, I heard a gunshot, then the sound of a swift blade chopping through flesh. Shaggy kept pressing for me to open the door, but I sat there motionless. I took a deep breath and thought to myself, "Make the right choices." Then I timidly crawled out of bed and shuffled to the door, opening it for Shaggy.

Shaggy ran in a full sprint towards my dad's room, and I ran as fast as I could, trying to keep up with her. I saw her run into the room, and a few seconds later, I followed. As I came in, immediately I locked eyes with it.

It was tall, furry, and pink. Its fur was filthy, and it had dead-looking eyes, whiskers, and long, fluffy ears. It hung a satchel—which I suspect wasn't full of Easter eggs, and it held a long scythe that leaned on its broad shoulders, and every time it took a breath, it made a deep humming sound.

"Is…is…is that the Easter bunny?" I murmured with a trembling voice. As unbelievable as it sounds, the pink furry monster wasn't the real fright, but rather what was below it.

At first, I could not make out what it was, but then I realized it was my dad's lifeless body lying motionless next to the window holding the shotgun, which made the sound I heard earlier. His upper body was almost disattached from his lower; his head facing the wrong direction, his left arm twisted the wrong way, and a pool of blood was sipping out of a giant hole of a wound. 

There the bunny was, crouching at the window directly over my dad's body, staring into my eyes. Shaggy ran straight at it and pounced on it, biting its left arm, but in one effortless motion, it flung Shaggy away, hitting a table that dismantled upon impact. The dog lay there, wincing in pain, while I stood at the door, unable to move. As lightning struck, the bunny leaned back and fell out the window. I ran to the window and looked out, but there was no sight of the pink, furry creature anymore.

I was completely stunned with fear; my palms sweaty, my knees weak, and my body so heavy I could not move from where I was rooted. I shook my head aggressively, managing to build up a little courage, then carried myself to the phone and dialed the police. They swarmed my house; some searched the rooms while others investigated my dad's body. I sat in the backseat of a police car with my head facing out and my legs too short to touch the floor. 

The police were nice to me; they gave me a blanket to cover up and a cup of hot chocolate. I sipped my coco sobbingly as a detective stood next to me, interrogating me. "You said what killed your father?"

"A pink, furry bunny with a bag holding a scythe."

"And where did this homicidal bunny go?"

"It jumped out the window and disappeared into the night."

The detective looked at me with confused eyes. I could barely believe what I had seen tonight myself, much less a police officer.

"Where is my Uncle Uche? He's also a cop."

"He's occupied at the moment."

'What could be more important than the death of his brother-in-law?' I thought to myself.

"Partner, come over here for a second." His partner called him away from me, and they began to whisper. "Look, Jim, the kid's been reading too many comic books; we found a lot of them in his room. Trauma from seeing his dad's body maybe?"

Jim's expression turned skeptical. "We'll take the kid to the station for further questioning, then get him a therapist. What's the forensic report?" 

"There were no fingerprints found on or around the body; the only thing they found is this pink hair." His partner says as he pulls out a transparent zip-lock bag with a few strands of pink hair.

Jim's annoyance grew. "Common Joe, you can't be serious."

Joe shrugged, grinning. "I can't make this stuff up, Jim. It's right here."

Jim's tone turned incredulous. "A professional, Joe? That's your take? The killer leaves no trace but pink hair?"

Joe's smile faltered. "I know it sounds crazy, but that's what we've got. No DNA, no fibers, nothing."

"Great, we've got a traumatized kid, a pink-haired professional homicidal cosplaying nutjob, and a body that looks like a half-eaten pizza slice. Why the hell did I come to work today? I should have stayed home and enjoyed Holy Saturday with my family."

"Come on, partner, we've had worse cases."

"Tell forensics I don't care if they have to bleed from their eyeballs; I want something concrete, something tangible, something that's actually going to help us crack this case. Make it clear: nobody leaves until they deliver."

"Will do, partner." Joe said as he headed towards the house.

"This is bullshit. When the heck did Birchwood become Gotham City?" Jim cursed.

"Um, detective, will I be sleeping at home tonight?"

"No, kid, you'll have to sleep at the station for the night."

"OK."

The detective walked up to me and squatted beside me. "Look, kid, I understand how you feel." He said in an attempt to comfort me.

"No, you don't." I retorted.

"I really do. I lost my dad when I was around your age, too. He died in a car accident; he was drunk driving."

"It's not the same; your dad's death was his fault, while mine wasn't." Tears started to roll down my cheeks as I continued, "And at least you still have a mom!" I yelled, unable to contain my frustration.

"Come on, kid, you've got to tell me the truth."

Now I was crying at full intensity. "I already did; my dad was killed by the Easter Bunny!"

The detective took a breath and placed his fingers on his brow to ease his frustration, then tapped me on the shoulder to calm me down. "Ok, kid, get in the car; let's go to the station."

I sat properly in the back seat of the police car, using my shirt to wipe my tears as the detective shut the door. He got in the driver's seat and started the engine, and we took off into the streets under the starry night sky.