[Static] "My name is Dr. Michael Bullock of Chestnut Field Asylum in Carter City, Utah. Today is March 19th, 1998, which marks my first appointment with patient "6TO931Q," or Mr. Clark Cornelius Becker II, age 38. Clark recently lost his one and only son on January 19th, 1998. His son's name was Scotty "Scott" Glenn Becker. Scott's body was found inside Busy Bee's Play Place at exactly 4:28 A.M. on January 20th, 1998 with seven stab wounds and his wrists slit. The only other person seen at the crime was Clark who was covered in blood holding a scalpel. The morgue said Scott had been dead for nearly five hours before they found him. Clark, the father, claimed to have taken Scott to Busy Bee's Play Place the day prior to Scott's death. On January 19th, Scott turned seven years old. Clark took Scott there for his birthday party. Not much older than my daughter, Tabitha. Though, this isn't the first time a body has been discover-"

[Door opened] Gerald Finnegan, one of the asylum guards, pulls Clark inside and places him in the chair across from me. He met me with these cold, blue eyes. Almost as if he were staring into Death's face. His skin was pale, and his black hair grew messier the longer he stayed here.

"Will that be all, Doc?"

"Yes, thank you Mr. ...Finnegan. Right? Thank you."

"I'll be outside, holler if you need anything."

[Door closed]

"Good afternoon, Mr. Becker. How are you?"

[There is a long pause that filled the room. Clark didn't even look at me anymore. He grew uninterested.]

"Mr. Becker, if it's OK with you, I would like to talk about... um... the night."

[He looked up ever so slightly.]

"I want to help you, Mr. Becker."

[Suddenly, Clark looked up. His face revealed several bruises.]

"The night, you say? What would the good doctor like to know about the night?"

"Your son, Scott. Did he-"


[Finnegan peeked through the door. I nodded. Finnegan also nodded, then disappeared behind the door.]

"Mr. Becker, you're accused for the murder of your son. I want to help you, I can help you."

"I didn't kill him."

"Mr. Becker, that's what you've been telling everyone. There were no other witnesses at the scene other than yourself."

  • [Clark leaned over the table separating the little space between him and myself.]

"I didn't kill him. That's just what they want you to think."

"They, Mr Becker?"

"Yes, those bastards did it..."

  • Clark leaned back again in his chair.

"Um... Mr Becker. Who are the "bastards" exactly?"

[Clark looked away from me, only focusing on the wall.]

"Scott was the first to notice. We walked into Busy Bee's at roughly 6 or 7. It was unlike anything he was accustomed to. We weren't the richest family, and I promised him I would take him to Busy Bee's."

"And your record says that your wife, Martha, died of cancer on April 21, 1993. Your times were tough. I'm sorry."

[Clark took a deep breath.]

"We walked in, the lights, the music, the arcades. It was all so mind numbing, but I didn't mind. Scotty went to play Ski-Ball with his friends, and I sat at a nearby booth."

"...But, the "bastard"?"

"I called Scotty over to eat Pizza. Apparently, there was this... show. The show consisted of four robots who dance and sing. But that's when it hit Scotty. The trance."

"Come again?"

"Scotty's eyes... they wouldn't leave the robots. The robots played the same song over and over again. Scotty wouldn't move from the booth. When his friends were leaving, I told their parents that he wasn't feeling too well because of the pizza. Every time I would try to make Scotty leave, he would walk back to the booth and watch the show."

"And... how did you resolve this problem?"

"I drug him home. I had to. In the car, Scott made no noises, no movements. He just sat and stared at me. I asked him what's wrong, but he never answered, never moved. We arrived home at 9:15. I placed him in bed and called the doctor who said he could look at him the next day. At roughly 10, I heard someone down in the kitchen. I crawled out of bed to see what was going on. Then that's when I saw Scotty. He..."

"What, Mr. Becker?"

"Scotty slit his wrists with a kitchen knife."

[I paused. His story, whether fake or not, matched what the file had said so far. I covered my mouth with my hand.]

"Go on, if you can."

[Clark wiped his eyes.]

"Scott was crying black tears from his eyes. He fell to the floor, I picked him up and I heard him whisper "Help me... please." We ran to the car, Scott was losing too much blood. I didn't think I was going to make it. As we drove, Scott began mumbling the song the robots were singing at Busy Bee's. He said "I'll fly away, fly away..." Those were the last words he spoke."

[I caught his lie.]

"Your son, and yourself were found inside Busy Bee's Play Place at 4:28 A.M. How did you get there, Mr. Becker? Police saw your son's bloody footsteps leading up to his corpse."

[He glanced up at me.]

"That wasn't him."


"After Scotty died, I grieved. I didn't know who to call, who to talk to. I failed the one responsibility I had as a father, to protect my son. So, I took him to the place he loved, Busy Bee's. I broke the window with a brick, and I took him inside."

"Are you serious? About all this?"

"Does it sound like I'm joking?! What was I to do?"

"Call the police, perhaps."

"Do you think they'll help me? They'll take him away from me! No, not my Scott! NOT HIM!"

"I think we're done for today. Finnegan! Come ge-" [Static]

[Static] "Today is March 25th, 1998. I've been thinking about Mr. Becker's story. About how ridiculous it sounds, but yet, how much how much he would sacrifice for Scott. He's a man who lost too much in his life."

[Door opened. Finnegan left Clark with me again, then simply left. Clark, somehow, looked worse than last week. Now with more bruises.]

"Good afternoon, Mr. Becker. How are you?"

"Do you want to hear the end?"

[I looked up from my notes.]

"Come again?"

"Last week, you didn't let me finish my story."

"What else is there to discuss?"


  • I put down my notepad.

"OK then, Mr. Becker. Please, continue."

"We were at Busy Bee's at almost midnight. I think 11:21. I was searching for the power switch, but I heard a song playing from the center of the building."

"What song was it?"

"The same one Scotty was singing before he died."

"How did it go?"

"Some bright morning when this life is over,
I'll fly away.
To that home on God's celestial shore,
I'll fly away.

I'll fly away, oh glory.
I'll fly away in the morning.
When I die hallelujah by and by.
I'll fly away

When the shadows of this life have gone.
I'll fly away.
Like a bird from these prison walls I'll fly.
I'll fly away."

[I never told Clark this, but my mother used to sing that song to me as a boy.]

"I wanted to make sure no one else was here, so I journeyed to the center of the building. The robots... were moving."

"You... it can't be. Surely you were just going over the shock of the loss of your son."

"They were moving as much as you and I can."

"But... how? Was the power on?"

"No... it wasn't."

[Either Clark was the craziest person in the pen or he experience some sort of supernatural occurrence.]

"But, Scott's stab wounds? Surely he couldn't have stabbed himself?"

[Clark sighed.]

"There were four of them. All weird looking, but the lead singer who was Busy Bee himself, had something wrong with it. A malfunction maybe. Its eyes were black and had something coming from its mouth. But when I was watching the robots play, Scott... got up."

[I swallowed hard.]

"He came towards the stage, towards me. At first, I thought it was a miracle. But then, I saw his eyes, the same eyes he had when we went there earlier that night. The devil's eyes. Scott stopped walking when he reached the stage. I asked him if he was OK, again he didn't answer. There's something about that song... those robots."


"For the first time, he turned to me. I was able to crack a smile, but Scott lunged toward me, taking me off my feet. And that, was the last thing I can remember before I woke up to the sound of sirens and Scott's blood all over the floor. Blood peppered my shirt, I knew it wasn't mine."

"That's the last thing you remember, Mr. Becker?"

"Yes. Wait... oh, God! Scott! No!"

[Just then, Clark's neck was snapped by an unseen force. Finnegan rushed in, but Clark was already dead. A black liquid oozed from his mouth.]

[I could hardly sleep that night. The Morgue said that they've never seen anything like the black ooze before. They cannot pinpoint exactly what killed Clark, however they can say that his neck was forcefully snapped.

I tossed and turned in bed, but it was useless. I went downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve my sleeping medicine, and that's when I saw him, a young boy holding a scalpel. His face was pale, and was crying a black tear drop. His hair was blackish brown. And his eyes were... like the devil's. He began to walk towards me...]

"What do... you want?"

[It stopped and whispered, "I'll fly away, I'll fly away..."]

"S-Scott? You're Scott?"

[He nodded, slowly.]

"Did... you kill your father?"

[He again nodded.]


"Because the Bee told me to... He want's me to kill everyone..."

[Static "Car-1041, This is officer Harvey Biff of Car-1247. After receiving a distress call at 11:21 P.M. on Wednesday, April 6, 1998. Dr. Michael Bullock called us and said he was being assaulted then the line went dead. We went to the man's house and he was dead on arrival. He had some weird black stuff coming from his mouth. The only thing we found was a scalpel covered in the man's blood. This is officer Harvey Biff of Car-1247, over."]