Inspired by this thread:
I was wondering who else here has had either a similar, horrific incident (and keep at it Pat, I have a hero for the day!), or else has dodged death in a scary/dramatic or noteworthy way?
I was 16, back in the mid-70’s and me and three friends were walking home late from a party only a few suburban blocks from where we all lived. T, R, D and myself were discussing the ass-pounding we were all going to get coming home at 2 am, when T offered us all to crash at his house. His mom and stepdad were the “cooler” more permissive ones that wouldn’t mind and his thought was that if were going to get hammered, at least let it be in the morning after we got some sleep.
D lived next to T, and passed. R and myself lived around the corner and a few houses down respectively, and we figured thanks, but we’ll face the music.
So, D goes in his house, T goes in his, R walks me to mine, then down to his house. No noise from the dad when I come in, but I know it’s not that easy.
5:30 am, Saturday morning, my bedroom door flies open. A plastic 5 gallon pail hits my floor, and the carwash mitt hits my face. I am reminded that I have four cars to wash, and it’s already 75 degrees. Gonna be a scorcher.
I eat a quick breakfast, thankfully no hangover this was before I discovered alcohol.
It’s pushing mid 80’s and muggy when I get outside and start soaping/washing cars. Midway through the second car, mom decides I have to mail a letter for her. I finish the car, walk to the corner, turn the corner and holy crap, every police car in my town, two abulances, and a black ambulance type truck that says “Coroner” is parked in front of D, and T’s houses.
Next to the mailbox, I find D’s kid sister on the curb, bawling her eyes out.
She’s incapable of even trying to explain and all I get out of her is ‘they’re all dead’.
By this time, I see the fuss is at T’s house, and I catch D’s father coming out of the house, accompanied by some cops and walk back to his own house. I run past the cars there and just run in the door at D’s house and catch D and his dad standing and just hanging on to each other.
What happened (as we learmed days later) is a friend of the stepdad was visiting that night. T’s kid sister had a friend over for a sleepover. After T got home, and mom went to bed downstairs, the stepdad and friend opened the Jack and started pouring down shots. Some sort of thing happened between them that resulted in the friend going outside to “cool off”. In the garage he finds an axe, comes back in the house and smacks stepdad while his back was turned at the kitchen table.
Then into T’s room, and does the same to my friend in his sleep. Then the kid sister and her friend. Mom either heard noise downstairs, or woke when he showed up at the bedroom door downstairs and she manages to get out her window to the neighbor’s across the street. Police were called, and they found the friend calmly finishing the Jack at the kitchen table next to his buddy’s body.
That happened when I was 16. I told my folks about how close I came to being there when I was 30. D told his dad only a year ago. R’s dad died 12 years ago and never knew.