Unexpected Karma

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a little something about how karma can work in the strangest, most ghastly of ways...

Submitted: April 07, 2009

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Submitted: April 07, 2009

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Amelia Briscell had more or less accepted the fact that she was going to die. Head up, shoulders back, knees locked, hands unclenched at her sides, eyes staring unblinkingly ahead…Oh yes, she had accepted it. The man standing behind her would, any moment now, pull the trigger. The gun pressed to her temple would fire a single bullet into her head. She would die, and that would be the end of it.

Her fingers tingled with a funny kind of anticipation. She felt almost…eager for that gun to go off. The man gently stroked her arm.

“You’re not scared?” he asked in a whisper. “No fair. It’s not fun when they aren’t scared.”

What are you waiting for? she thought. Don’t toy with me; just shoot me.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Imagine what her death would mean! No more college, no more classes, no more professors. Her mind conjured the face of Professor John Fitch and brought it forth. Sweet, handsome, married John Fitch. She could have smiled. No more John Fitch.

No more of her parents’ criticisms, no more parenting classes, no more of Eric’s constant crying…

Her breath stopped. Eric. She couldn’t leave Eric. No, no, she couldn’t die, she wouldn’t leave him…She opened her mouth to plead, beg, whatever it took to get that man to spare her. She couldn’t bear to think of what would happen to her little Eric if she were to die. Who would take care of him, who would—

Her last thought was cut short. Her eyes glazed and blood dripped from around the barrel of the gun. Her head jerked away from the gun in an almost delayed push away from the force of the bullet. The gun had fired, and Amelia Briscell was dead.

 

The man watched in silence, unmoving, while the girl’s body crumpled in front of him. He remained there, gun in midair, feet planted firmly on the ground, until a pool of dark red liquid began to form around the remains of the girl’s head. He nearly grinned. The screw-like bullets in this gun, his prized, .38 caliber Smith & Wesson, had all but destroyed her. He chuckled blackly in the darkness. He felt sorry for whatever poor soul stumbled upon this mess in the morning.

A quick glance at his watch, however, showed it was already morning. 12:04.

He nudged the dead girl’s arm, and allowed his grin to surface, straight white teeth gleaming in the abandoned parking lot. A neon sign flashed the words “Sunshine Motel” in bright green and pink. He squatted with sudden inspiration and plucked a blue wallet from the girl’s back jeans pocket. He opened it and laughed. Clapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes as bright with laughter as the blinking neon lights, he came eye to eye with a smiling brown-haired boy.

The boy was covered in what looked like four different colors of paint, while the canvas he stood beside remained completely blank except for one small dot of…blue? He wasn’t sure. It could have been green. The man pocketed the picture and stood, tossing the wallet carelessly back on the girl. It hit her shoulder and bounced, landing in the growing puddle of blood. Then he spun on his heel and strolled calmly to his car, a dark blue SUV. Once behind the wheel, he allowed his thoughts to wander.

A son. That whore had a son. Oh, this was too delicious. A new thought occurred to him abruptly. What was to stop him from visiting her son? His mind wandered further, exploring the detail with which he would make the boy suffer. It would not be such a quick death, like his mother, no. He would make the boy suffer. Before his death, that boy would be afraid. He would—

There was the screech of tires and the loud, unmistakable shriek of metal against metal, followed closely after by the crash as the mid-sized SUV flipped to its side and came slowly to a halt. The time was 12:15.

By the time 911 had been called at 12:18, the driver of the SUV was dead.


© Copyright 2020 Evelyn Black. All rights reserved.

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