Rosemary Cotton

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this story and showed it too some people, and nobody liked it. So I desided that they were stupid and that I am a missunderstood genius! I'm not even gonna call that a joke.

Submitted: August 10, 2009

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Submitted: August 10, 2009

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Rosemary was looking down in her shopping card. In it were two gallons of milk, some juice and a pack of cigarettes.

Did she need anything else? She sighed and looked at her watch, 22:22, in any case it would have to wait for tomorrow, she was tiered and just wanted to go to bed.

She put her groceries one by one on the conveyer belt and looked at the cashier. She was in her twenties, had short blond hair and a look in her eyes that said that she was in a rut and she was not expecting it to get any better, any time soon.

Rosemary had gotten that look first after she found her husband of seventeen years in bed with their son's tennis teacher, Nadja. "That will be 7.50,please" said the cashier with a voice that was just as tired as her eyes.

Rosemary walked slowly down the streets of Soho, her legs were not what they used to be. She heard barking in the distance. She stopped for a second to rest her legs. The barking came closer.

She started walking again. The barking became louder and louder. She picked up the pace. The dogs where now right behind her. She started running, the dogs started to growl. Her legs were killing her, but she had to keep going.

She dropped the grocery bag. The milk spilled out in to the gutter.

The dogs where closing in on her, she could so easily just stop, but she had set her mind. If she was gonna die, she was gonna die with dignity. She made a left turn, "damn it, dead end" was the last thing Rosemary Cotton said before the leader hound slit her throat open with it's razor sharp teeth. Killing her, instantly.


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