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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 08, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 08, 2019











It was supposed to be a night of fun and relaxation, out with a couple of friends, a mini vacation from the trials and duties of home life. A nice dinner, an evening at the theatre and after a quite café nightcap. It had been months since Hully Two had not been out to do anything more than necessary duties to keep the household running smooth. It was just midnight when she began her walk home when out of the dark came a scream that sent shivers up her spine and back down several times in rapid succession. But somehow she managed to sprint anxiously toward the screams thinking someone had fallen into the river nearby or… It did not occur to her until she stood over the body on the bank of the river something evil scarred the night.


It was a young woman. Though Hully did not know her well she recognized her immediately as someone she had seen at the theatre… and her head was twisted at an unusual angle.

“Dear. How…how horrible?” Hully whimpered then, taking her phone from her jacket pocket keyed 999.

“Hello. I think a young woman has been murdered.” She reported then gave her name and location. “By the river near the footbridge.”

 And that should have been her part in it except to give a statement when the police arrived.

But what should have been and what actually happened was completely different.


Hully Two decided to go stand in the light of a street lamp to wait since it was possible that the killer was still nearby, and she was right, but she only made it a few steps when a raspy, cold voice filtered out of the dark from under the footbridge.

“You should have minded your own business.”

Hully spun around expecting to find the killer attacking her but instead all she saw was a shadow running away on the other side of the river.

“ Oh no.” Now he will be after me.” Hully realized her dilemma instantly. Then she was assault by a rank odour sent her way on a gust of wind. Rank and one she recognized.


The police arrived within minutes of the call and Hully gave here statement and described the happened after she made her 999 call, emphasizing the threat, but there was little the police could do except keep an eye on her home as often as possible, which was scant since the local station only maintained a small force.

Anxiously Hully found her way home watching the dark around her with keen eyes and tense attention. She listened to the night and sniffed at the cool air. By the time she got home a deep sense of anxiety borne fear had settled in her heart, but as was her nature, fear summoned courage and she decided to do more than be a frightened witness to a heinous crime.


But things twisted quickly. The killer had not ventured far off. That very next morning, across the meadow by the line of trees Hully spied a shadow within the shadow of the forest. She sensed in her spirit who was spying on her and for a moment considered calling the police.

“But what can they do. By the time I call and they get here the creep will have run  off.” She thought them went to find an old pair of binoculars she remembered were collecting dust in the cubby space under the stairs that climbed to the second floor.


She then went up those stairs to a window facing the forest and fixed her glass on the shadows. The creep was still there and a new fear rushed into her heart. “It can’t be you. It just can’t be.” She wept then became determined to console her suspicions by speaking with the man in the shadows.

Quickly she donned her coat and hat and pushed her feet into ankle boots then rushed out the door, careless of what could become of her by confronting the man in the shadows. Surely he would not murder her too.


She ran as fast as the uneven ground and long grass of the meadow would let her. Even at that, it took nearly ten minutes to reach the forest edge. And by then the shadow, the man she recognized was gone. But that did not deter her. She knew where he lived. She had visited his woodland cottage many times when she was a child. But he had disappeared one spring, now twenty years gone by. Odd it was that he would return just to murder a young girl. It seemed to Hully utterly impossible. But the voice last night and the rank odour most certainly belonged to him.


Even though it was overgrown Hully found the trail leading to her old friend’s cottage easily, remembering each detail as if it had been only yesterday since she last visited him. And in just a few minutes she was standing at the little picket gate opening on to the cinder path leading to the door, a door, long since broken down and hanging weakly from one hinge. Surely, he would not live here in this damp cold. But as the though wrangled through her mind she spied a tendril of smoke rising out of the tin chimney. And seconds later, looking as old and ruined as the cottage her friend appeared at the cottages front window, oddly still intact.


“Cy. Cy Morgan. Is that really you?” She cried out. “Tell me you did not murder that young. Please tell me that.” Hully cried.

“I did not kill her Hully Two but I know who did and she is here. She wants to talk to you.”

“Why me? I have nothing she could be interested in.” Hully called back.

“But you do.” A voice filled with hatred came back.

“Sally.” Hully beckoned anxiously. “What could have anyone done to bring you to murder?” she asked sorrowfully.


Hully woke from her involuntary nap, face down in the keyboard of her laptop. She was startled to discover the entire nightmare had taken place in two minutes. She gave her head a shake and decided to go make a tea., but as she walked along the hall to the kitchen something horrible rose up from her deepest memory, something she had kept hidden from her conscious mind for decades.

“Oh dear.” She whispered, then fell to the floor in a faint.




© Copyright 2020 Donald Harry Roberts. All rights reserved.

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