Sara James crossed the kitchen, her black hair wavering back behind her ears. "Honey," her care-taker, Denise Herewitts said, "You've received a message from your aunt and new uncle." The lady who wasn't quite old had a hint of excitement in her letter. She thought it was all a Soap Opera.
Sara walked over to the pile of letters they had received that afternoon. Bill, she flipped past it, for mother, bill, bill, "You've just one twenty-one-hundred dollars", the note. She picked it up. Julie
Bronson. To Brooke, Andrew and Sara James. The girl smiled, her blue eyes lighting up with excitement as she clutched the note and ran into her room.
She looked at the letter.
' Dear Andrew, Brooke, and Sara' it began:
As you know, after these few incidents, I have finally settled down. I have a new job, working with suicidal patients, and others who really need help like I once did. I really enjoy my job and know it was exactly for me.
Ray says 'Hi,' as well. He's been busy finding a job, lately. But it's okay that he hasn't. Maybe he needs a little break, he never broke down after the killings, maybe this is the time to. I'm sorry this letter is so short, but I'm really busy, I got three new patients in these past two days.
It was really nice talking to you, though.
Love,
Ray & Julie Bronson '
Sara smiled, tucking the note back into it's envolope and sticking it snuggly inside her pocket. She then got up and walked back into the living room. The lights were out. But it was pretty light outside. Sara decided she was a bit hungry. So, the young teenager walked into the kitchen, which smelled of a batch of cookies that Denise had made. But it also smelled as if something was burning.
Sara looked in. What she saw made her scream. Denise was wedged into the oven. It was on high. She could see her crisp, burnt body. Sara backed up, fear spreading across her face. Was it an accident? What had happened? No! As she thought all this, she bumped into something. Something cold and soft...
She slowly turned around, hoping it wasn't anything harmful. Or alive. He was dressed in a cold, damp slicker. The spots where his right hand was didn't have a hand. There was a hook. He had a white beard as well, and made a frigid smile. She couldn't see his eyes, but she knew he was dangerous.
Sara turned and ran, ran for dear life to the other side of the kitchen. He was following her. Something cold whipped by her shoulder, she then felt pain. Sara James slipped onto the floor. She was close to the bathroom. She could lock herself in. "Please..." She reached for the handle.
The man kicked her. She rammed into the door, which was open. She put all her strength together and hopped up. The hook lunged to her face as she slammed the white bathroom door on it. As soon as it was closed, she grabbed the handle, pushed it in, and turned it to her right. A click was heard.
Sara backed up as the door began to shake. He was ramming into it! "No... Please.. No.. Oh God.." She looked around, she had to hide. Inside the shower? No. Behind the toliet? In the cubbord?
He rammed the door down finally, and it fell with a thud to the ground of the bathroom. He walked in, taking in his surroundings. "Oh, Sara. Come out, come out, wherever you are."
She gasped.
He smiled.
He slid his hook carefully through a grasp on the cubbord door. Fear filled her face. "No.." He tore the door open. She screamed. He sliced his hook into the small space. She screamed as toliet-paper went flying. Then she felt a cold punch across the face. Then felt the hook reach into her pocket.
He pulled the note out. The address was carefully written in the corner of it. She put a return-address on it. Good. Now he could finish those two off. He left the poor girl there. She was still alive, yes. He didn't like killing children much... But if those two had had some... He may make an exception.
--
The figure stomped out of the house, leaving bloody tracks from stepping in a pool of blood which had seeped through Sara's shoulder wound.
"Julie, Ray, Karla... I'm back."
Sara walked over to the pile of letters they had received that afternoon. Bill, she flipped past it, for mother, bill, bill, "You've just one twenty-one-hundred dollars", the note. She picked it up. Julie
Bronson. To Brooke, Andrew and Sara James. The girl smiled, her blue eyes lighting up with excitement as she clutched the note and ran into her room.
She looked at the letter.
' Dear Andrew, Brooke, and Sara' it began:
As you know, after these few incidents, I have finally settled down. I have a new job, working with suicidal patients, and others who really need help like I once did. I really enjoy my job and know it was exactly for me.
Ray says 'Hi,' as well. He's been busy finding a job, lately. But it's okay that he hasn't. Maybe he needs a little break, he never broke down after the killings, maybe this is the time to. I'm sorry this letter is so short, but I'm really busy, I got three new patients in these past two days.
It was really nice talking to you, though.
Love,
Ray & Julie Bronson '
Sara smiled, tucking the note back into it's envolope and sticking it snuggly inside her pocket. She then got up and walked back into the living room. The lights were out. But it was pretty light outside. Sara decided she was a bit hungry. So, the young teenager walked into the kitchen, which smelled of a batch of cookies that Denise had made. But it also smelled as if something was burning.
Sara looked in. What she saw made her scream. Denise was wedged into the oven. It was on high. She could see her crisp, burnt body. Sara backed up, fear spreading across her face. Was it an accident? What had happened? No! As she thought all this, she bumped into something. Something cold and soft...
She slowly turned around, hoping it wasn't anything harmful. Or alive. He was dressed in a cold, damp slicker. The spots where his right hand was didn't have a hand. There was a hook. He had a white beard as well, and made a frigid smile. She couldn't see his eyes, but she knew he was dangerous.
Sara turned and ran, ran for dear life to the other side of the kitchen. He was following her. Something cold whipped by her shoulder, she then felt pain. Sara James slipped onto the floor. She was close to the bathroom. She could lock herself in. "Please..." She reached for the handle.
The man kicked her. She rammed into the door, which was open. She put all her strength together and hopped up. The hook lunged to her face as she slammed the white bathroom door on it. As soon as it was closed, she grabbed the handle, pushed it in, and turned it to her right. A click was heard.
Sara backed up as the door began to shake. He was ramming into it! "No... Please.. No.. Oh God.." She looked around, she had to hide. Inside the shower? No. Behind the toliet? In the cubbord?
He rammed the door down finally, and it fell with a thud to the ground of the bathroom. He walked in, taking in his surroundings. "Oh, Sara. Come out, come out, wherever you are."
She gasped.
He smiled.
He slid his hook carefully through a grasp on the cubbord door. Fear filled her face. "No.." He tore the door open. She screamed. He sliced his hook into the small space. She screamed as toliet-paper went flying. Then she felt a cold punch across the face. Then felt the hook reach into her pocket.
He pulled the note out. The address was carefully written in the corner of it. She put a return-address on it. Good. Now he could finish those two off. He left the poor girl there. She was still alive, yes. He didn't like killing children much... But if those two had had some... He may make an exception.
--
The figure stomped out of the house, leaving bloody tracks from stepping in a pool of blood which had seeped through Sara's shoulder wound.
"Julie, Ray, Karla... I'm back."