THE WORLD IS STRANGE

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
A series of connected events.

Submitted: November 05, 2013

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Submitted: November 05, 2013

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7:34 p.m.

 

Though it was getting dark, and darker by the minute, Alice Trebice wanted to get her afternoon walk in. She didn't have time to do it at a more reasonable time because she had to pick her dog up from the groomers. Alice is a 74 year old retiree living in a small town just trying to make the best of her life before she cashes it in. Her husband died when she was 62. It was unfortunate because they were going to move from that old town to Florida. Alice has been walking her neighborhood ever since then. It gives her a kind of peace. She would usually take her dog, but he was too tired. She would always walk thd bike path that was about 50 feet from her house. It was perticualarly cold on this night so she took her bright yellow jacket. She started down the bike path. Usually a lot of people would walk the bike path in the afternoon. But, of course, this was almost night time. No one was there. Alice sort of cherished these moments of silence. Almost like she never got enough of it. She crossed the unmarked intersection. Then she heard some footsteps behind her. It sounded as if the person behind her was walking fast. Faster. And faster. Suddenly she heard a skidding and a thump. Alice looked back behind her. There was a body sprawled in front of a pick-up truck with a bunch of scratches on it. She immediatley ran to the spot. The body sprawled out on the pavement was a man. His mouth was bloodied. She looked over his body. His arm was twisted and behind his back. His leg was broken and bent the wrong way. She didn't even need to check his pulse. He was definately dead.

 

1 hour before

 

David Champell is 26, well educated, wealthy, and a socially competent gentlemen. He is also completely insane. David is, what some might call, a natural born killer. He wouldn't even think about who to kill. He would just do it. An insatiable bloodlust. He lives in an expensive apartment building just outside of a small town. He was about to venture out again tonight. Maybe go into town. He got his coat on and got into the elevator. As he was going down, he began to remember his first. It was a man by the name of Norman Trebice. He was 20 then, and very immature. He only used a gun. The elevator got to the lobby, and he wlaked out. He didn't take his car. He wanted to walk. David walked in front of a parking spot when a dark green pick up truck almost ran him over.

"Watch where you're going asshole!" he screamed.

David just stared at him for a second, then moved. The truck parked  on the spot. The driver got up and walked away. David started wondering if he should kill this man. Maybe he should run this man over with his own prized truck. But he thought of a better thing. He took out his car key and started scratching his car. He put scratches everywhere. Then he keyed the word "asshole" on the hood of his car. Sometimes revenge is sweeter than murder. David walked for almost thirty minutes before entering the small town. David looked at all his would-be victims. He saw woman whose head would look good over his fireplace. But he thought he could do better. He saw a man that he might be able to de-limb. One by one. But no, he could do better. He turned on to a street with small houses on either side of the street. Then he saw something. Something that was amazing an old woman coming out of he house wearing a bright yellow jacket. He wanted this one. He didn't know what he would do with her, but he would have her. She walked on to a bike path, and David followed. He couldn't wait, he started to walk faster. He didn't care if she saw him. He began to run after she crossed the intersection. David began to cross the intersection. Then there was a bright light. It was a pick up truck. It hit David with great force. He was dead on contact. The old woman in the yellow jacket ran over. She looked at the body. Suddenly the driver got out of the pick-up truck.

"That's for wrecking my truck asshole!"

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Harrison Eaton. All rights reserved.

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