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Tears From A Note

Drip. Drip. Drip. Tears hit the cold oak floor. They rest steadily until another is added to the puddle. Soft sobs upset the silence, Annie Miller's breath ripples and stomach wrenches. She grips the key tightly but the withered note even tighter. Her hips rest against the floor, her head tilts back toward the windowsill. Her dry, cracked face moistened by her recent tears. "Please help me, god..." , her voice quivers. Her eyes dance across the room to the door, the door that stalked her dreams since she received the note. That note held the last words from her daughter... She recites the note from memory,

"Dear mom,

I will do my best to stay alive, if I don't send you another message in a week, come for me. I will be in the basement of the house where you raised me.



Her skinless feet begin to pour small rings of blood around where she now stands. The scorching highway walks made her immune to the pain. Leaving more blood prints and tear puddles behind her as she moves across the room. "I will be in the basement of the house... where you raised me...", she says. The door now dawns upon her, high pitched ringing is all she can hear, a solid white basement door is all she can see. The door creaks open with a turn of the key. As she subdues into the basement obis, she hears the door slam behind her.

Story by:

Zach Green

submitted at 7:42pm

2 March 2012