"Damn it, get out of my way woman." I hear someone down the street yell as I turn my head to look in that general direction.
I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I am running late as usual. This time I almost caught her in the act, but someone intervened, and the cops were called. Before I could get to her, she was gone in the flicker of light and what was left was a man who had no idea what was going on.
Honestly, I tried to help him but then I heard the sirens and ran, because we all know what that means when I am a wanted man. Hurrying to the restaurant where I am to meet Mr. Smith, I grab the nearest seat to the door in case I need to make a quick escape and wait for him to arrive.
When we talked on the phone earlier this morning, he said that he is 6 foot and that with light blonde curly hair and dark brown eyes, I would know him when I saw him instantly. Well, he was right, because I turn to see an older gentlem
Driving along through all the cotton fields, I finally see brush country. As the vibrant colors fade and I start to see running water everywhere, I feel comforted because when I was growing up, I often spent most of my time fishing in the creek behind my grandpa’s house. I can already tell that I like this place. It feels like home. Wishing that I could take some time and just enjoy the area, I know full well that there is a man hunt on for me and my single goal in life before I die is to get ahold of her scrawny neck and sever it from her body. At least then I know that no one else will be afflicted by the devastation and sorrow she leaves behind her. Several times already, I have been almost caught and each time I saw a hint of her red hair. It often keeps me up at night wondering how she is always one step ahead of me no matter how hard I try. But then I realize that she must decide who she is going to attack before I can
A small blonde girl that must be about 5 years old, looks up at me with big innocent blue eyes and asks. “Mr. can you help me?” Crouching down, my first response would be to find her mom or dad, but there is something about her that bothers me. She reminds me so much of my mom that I hesitate for a few minutes. What is it about her? I grab ahold of her hand and lead her to the Kaffie-Frederik General Mercantile which is Natchitoches first general store. Figuring that I might find someone there who knows her, I wait by the front desk for someone to notice me standing there and approach. When no one does, I ring the bell on the counter and a short man in his 50’s hobbles out from the backroom and smiles. “Ah, I see you have found little Isabelle. Her momma was just so panicked about losing her in here that she went to find the constable. Thank you for finding her and bringing her here right away. I will phone him
“Chunk” “Ker-chunk” “Rattle” Sitting there at the light in this little town called Mound Bayou in Mississippi, the Jeep decides to stop after making quite a bit of noise. When the rattling and shaking finally stops, the engine shuts off and I notice the engine light goes on when I check to see what’s wrong. “Great!” I exclaim before I slam my fist against the steering wheel. As I open the door, I scan the area for a gas station or a mechanic and find nothing immediately. It’s just a small hoe dunk town in the middle of Mississippi and today is a scorcher. Matter of fact, it is probably why my Jeep gave out in the first place. I remember a while back, there was a bank with the number 101 on its billboard flashing. Now surely that meant that it is 101 degrees, because it feels like it. Staring down at my shirt, I see that it is stained in the arm pits and my pants feel like they are sticking to my legs.&
While my pal John drives through the Great Smoky Mountains, I stare out the window and see the mist roll off the mountain tops. Amazingly, I have always loved how beautiful they are especially just after a quick morning thunderstorm. It has been peaceful for the last two weeks. I think I only saw her once when I caught a glimpse of red leaving the crime scene before I left my Jeep behind and had to run off. When I walked to the next city, I noticed a note board up in the supermarket for rides across the country. I found one that looked good and called the number before grabbing a bite to eat at one of the small restaurants. John, the guy I am riding with, is a college student from the University of Tennessee. He told me that he is majoring in psychology and that he is going to graduate next spring. A nice fella, I told him that I was traveling around the country to see everything before I settle down and have a family. Believ
“Oh my Lord!” I hear someone emit a blood curdling scream before I open my eyes to see a tall young woman in a housekeeping outfit staring down at me where I lay on the blood-stained carpet. Surprised as much as I am, I scramble to my feet and try to hush her with my hand as I wrap it around her mouth. Holding her from behind, I say in her ear, “It’s alright. I had an accident, and the blood is from my finger. That’s all.” Not believing me, she struggles with me and breaks free before she runs out of the room. Knowing too well that she will bring back several others, I hurry up and pack my things while grabbing a hand towel from the bathroom and wrapping it around my hand. I will have to fix it later once I am someplace safe away from prying eyes. Just as I am about to dash out the door, I hear a knock and go immediately into panic mode. I guess their response time has improved and now I must go out the window instead
Traveling for days at a time, my eyelids start to grow heavy, and I must pull alongside the road before the next town. Every day I have been texting her and leaving messages, but nothing. Absolutely nothing. I see hints of blazing red here and there, but nothing from my sister. One night, I even swear that I see the soul eater laughing at me from the box of the truck, but then I stop along side the road to check, and she is gone. Not even a bone or a pool of blood are left behind, so I am pretty sure it was just a figment of my imagination. However, I hear her claws drag across the top of the cab many times while driving along the empty roads on the way to my sister’s. After five days, I finally reach my sister’s house and pull in the driveway. Cautiously, I survey the area and notice several things. One, her car is sitting next to the truck, and two all the lights are on but there is no movement in the house.
As I come to my senses, the aroma of death is gone, and I feel refreshed from my slumber. Not knowing how long I was out, I check my laptop and find that I was unconscious for two days. The last thing I remember, is her hands around my wrists and her eyes pulling me in, then I start to go black. Hearing a knock at the door, I quickly sit up and stand before opening it. I check in the mirror by the door just in case she has left me some kind of present like she has before, but I find nothing. So, after doing a quick inspection of the room, I sigh in relief and open the door to a small man. This small man is about 40 and the size of a midget. His hair is dark brown and his eyes greener than an emerald when it shines in the light. His complexion is rather pale, but with several wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He looks up at me and smiles before entering. Watching his short little legs walk to the couch, I almos
Driving into town, I see a sign for White Cloud and remember that I have visited here once before a couple years back on my way to Charlevoix. I don’t remember what I was going there for, but either way this town is so small that they have one gas station in town and a grocery store. There is a Family Dollar and a Dollar General as you head on out, but that doesn’t really matter at this point. What does, is that I saw in the news yesterday on channel 13, a man had been attacked by a strange woman here in this little town. He figured she was either hopped up on meth or not in her right mind. The thing that stuck out in my head was that he mentioned her blazing red hair and that it seemed like she had “black eyes that peered at him.” In his exact words. Since my sister has died, not much seems to matter anymore except for the constant reminders that “she” keeps leaving me here and there as I get closer to the day that I end her.