Tip-Toe by the Window (The Horror of Peter Rissmiller)

October 28, 2012
By JohnStone BRONZE, Colorado Springs, Colorado
JohnStone BRONZE, Colorado Springs, Colorado
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Sometimes, you have to look yourself in the mirror and say 'When in Rome'"

It certainly was a strange evening, the night of January 7th, 2011. Every thought in my mind indicated that it would be a normal night. I worked as a professor’s assistant at the local university. I lived with my father, and I was on my way home. I was stressed about the day and needed some rest. I walked through the front door of my average suburban home. I heard an eerie tune that made my bones chill. The lyrics exclaimed “Tip-toe by the window.” Every light in the house was turned off. I steadily made my way over to the light switch and slowly flicked the switch up. I instantly saw my father sitting at the kitchen table. He was motionless, almost as if he were dead. He had a grin from ear-to-ear that made him look like he had just won the lottery. My presence was of no concern to him, for he just sat there looking forward. I found this odd, so I checked his pulse. He was dead.
When the police and Detective Hanes finally arrived, I was in a state of shock. None of the events that had occurred were shifting through my mind. I was in a thoughtless concentration, if that makes any sense. Detective Hanes walked through the front door without knocking, as if he lived there. He had asked me a few questions, you know, the obvious cliché questions. After a few more pointless ponderings, he asked for my permission to search the house. After he made notes, and mumbled to himself, he came to me with some things to say.
“Were you aware that the lyrics to the song playing have been etched into the window upstairs?”
“No sir, I wasn’t.” As I stated before, I was in such shock that I hadn’t really taken in any of the events that had occurred that evening.
“Well, I can’t say I’ m surprised. If something like this happened to me, I know I wouldn’t be thinking straight either. You should get some sleep. It’s late and you’ve had a tough evening.”
“Sounds good to me,” I replied in a somewhat shaky voice.
“Goodnight Mr. Rissmiller. Oh, and one more thing. Why were you playing that song? “
“Why does it matter?” I immediately shot back with a smirk in my tone.
“It doesn’t,” he said. Most people I know wouldn’t turn on music when they just found out their father was murdered.”
“Yes, I guess I failed to mention that. I believe your father was murdered.”
“Well, that certainly is quite a twist to this all. Oh, and for your information, I wasn’t playing that song. I don’t even own that record.”
“That’s very odd, very odd indeed. I suppose that is a piece of evidence. Would you mind retrieving the record for me? ” Detective Hanes waited by the door, or so I thought, while I walked downstairs to grab the record that now haunted my thoughts. To my great surprise, the record was gone. I came upstairs to inform Hanes of my discovery, but he was already gone.
That night, I had terrible nightmares. The few times I managed to fall asleep, I awoke a short time later, stricken with fear. I made occasional trips to the toilet to let loose some unwanted body fluid from my mouth. I managed to fall asleep once more, but I was awakened for the final time by a loud, ear drum bursting shatter downstairs. I sat in bed for a moment, and then heard the screech of a record.”Tip-toe by the window” suddenly came melodiously from the record downstairs. I reluctantly made my way downstairs. When I reached the living room, I looked at the window, which was shattered, and watched the cold January blizzard make its way into my home. The window had the flagitious lyrics etched into it. I summed up every ounce of courage in my body to sprint to the record player and stop the music. I ran upstairs with a reasonable amount of speed, adrenaline rushing through my blood. I turned the lights on in my room and sat in my bed. I didn’t go back to sleep the entire night, nor did I want to. I counted the hours until 6:00 and got dressed. I sprinted to my car, for I was now afraid to be in my home.
My stomach grumbled as I drove down to the Sheriff’s Department. I longed for something to eat, but I was too preoccupied and fear driven to stop and eat. I pulled up to the Sheriff’s Department, and threw open the doors to the building. The security guards on duty stopped and asked me what I was doing. I ignored them and sprinted up the stairwell to Detective Hanes’ office. I burst in and the security guards finally caught up.
“We’re sorry sir, we tried to stop him.”
“No it’s ok. He can stay. Please Mr. Rissmiller, take a seat.”
“Thank you,” I replied with a half-hearted tone. I was out of breath as I turned and said “Bye, bye” to the security guards.
“Now, what is so urgent that you needed to interrupt my morning coffee and donuts?” He said as he stuffed the remainder of his donut in his mouth.
“I had a strange evening last night. Ok, I lied. I had a horrific evening last night.”
“Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”
“Ok. Once you left my house, without telling me, I went to bed. I wasn’t sleeping well and I constantly got up to puke. I fell asleep and was abruptly awakened by a loud shatter. A short time later, the ‘song’ came on again.”
“Ok. That’s odd, very odd,” he said.
“I turned the music off and counted the seconds, minutes, then hours until morning. I then made my way here.” At the very moment I said ‘here,’ the ‘window’ song started playing.
“Why are you playing that song? You know it scares me,” I remarked.
“I’m not playing any song. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why are you lying? You can’t possibly tell me you don’t hear that song!”
“I don’t though. I’m sorry.” Disgusted and infuriated, I stormed out of his office. Even though I was still starving, I made my way to the park. I was too scared to go home and I needed to think. While I was pondering, I thought about how suspicious and odd Detective Hanes had been acting. I figured he himself might be a suspect of my father’s murder. However, as I would find out later that night, my accusation was false.

By the time my watch read 10 o’clock P.M., I knew I had to go home sooner or later. I drove home and
went straight to bed. The only thing I did before hopping into my sheets was take off my shoes. Surprisingly, I
had an ok night sleep. Much to my demise, that luxury quickly went down the drain. I received a phone call from the Sheriff’s Department and was informed with some unexpected news. Detective Hanes had been murdered. I had asked them what happened, and they told me that they found him in his office. He was
motionless and had a wicked smile on his face. Once they told me about Hanes’ death, the phone slipped out of my hand. The look on my face was that of a man who is crazy. I picked the phone back up and heard “Tip toe by the window.” I slammed my phone into the night-stand, shattering it into pieces. When the first rays of morning shown through my window, I got in my vehicle, and went to the phone store. I purchased a new cell, and made a call to the phone service. I asked them if they could trace the source of the call from last night. They said they would gladly trace the call. I bought myself lunch, and they called back.

“I’m sorry sir, it appears that no call was made at that time. The only call made was from the Sheriff’s Department.” I hung up in disbelief. I soon became saddened, and went home. I sat on the deck of my backyard
to think. The song played over and over in my mind. I had had enough. I closed my eyes, looked up into the air, and screamed “GO AWAY!’’

When I opened my eyes again, I looked around. I was in a cushioned room, and I tried to move my arms. Something was restraining me, and I looked down. I was in a straight jacket. A door opened on one of the walls, and a nurse appeared. She gave me a half-hearted smile, then looked to somebody in the hallway and said
to a man, “I think it’s time to tell him.” I saw two fairly muscular men walk into my room. They told me to follow them. One of them walked in front of me, and the other walked behind me. They led me into a large, rectangular room. It was plain, all white with a metal table in the middle and a window on the far wall.
I sat down at the table and waited for about 5-minutes. The guards sat with me until a man walked into the room. The two guards left. The man greeted me. “How do you do?” he asked. I immediately shot back with

“Who are you?”

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? My name is Doctor Bogsworth.”

“Are you going to play the stupid game with me or are you going to tell me where I am and what’s
going on?”

“Ok, I was going to tell you slowly, but you seem pretty anxious. I am here to tell you the simple fact that you murdered you’re father. Let me ask you, do you remember your mother’s death?”

“Of course I do, she died peacefully in the hospital.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. When you were 11 years old, you’re mother was brutally murdered.
You went into a state of melancholia. You were so devastated that you decided not to believe it. From that point on, whenever you had problems, you simply solved them by not believing them. You eventually became crazy. Your father dealt with it until you were 13, but he finally had enough. He submitted you into the mental hospital. You were so far into your fake realm of disbelief that you thought you were still living a normal life. You have been here the last 17 years. However, 4 days ago, you broke out of the mental hospital, and murdered your father and Detective Hanes. When we found you, you were in your home, sitting on the couch, with a crazy smile on your face. You were then immediately brought to this mental asylum, because you weren’t just insane, but criminally insane. Each time you heard that song in your ‘fake realm,’ you were committing a crime. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I’m sorry you had to find out at all,” he said with a smirk.
I sat and thought for a moment, and then I got a sick, sadistic smile on my face. I then got up from the table, took my chair, and blocked the door with it. I then sprinted towards Dr. Bogsworth and choked him to death! “Tip-toe by the window” began playing through my head. Bogsworth sat there with that strange smile on his face. I then exclaimed,

“No doctor, I’m sorry YOU had to find out this way. You see, I didn’t commit those murders through hallucinations, I committed them through pure rage.”
I then took the doctor’s chair out from under him and walked with a gimp towards the window. I smashed the window with the chair, and took out one of the screws. I etched the words “Tip-toe by the window” in the remaining pieces of glass in the window. The moment I escaped, the asylum workers, who had watched the entire spectacle, but couldn’t get in because of the chair, broke in. But, they were too late. I was already skipping away from the asylum, singing with great passion, “Tip-toe by the window.”


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