Choking on the torrent of words trying to escape my throat, I croaked, “How?”
“He was bad for you,” she said, as if it was perfectly understandable, “You were too good for him.”
“So you killed him,” I murmured, letting in sink in, “You killed Jimmy.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling kindly, “I’m glad you’re taking this so well.”
“You…” I cried, lashing out at the woman I’d once called mother, “You monster!”
“You know it was the right thing to do,” she responded calmly.
“You’re crazy!” I sobbed, backing away, “Crazy!”
“No,” she sighed, as if explaining something simple to a small child, “I did the right the thing.”
“No!” I screeched, still sobbing, “You’re wrong!”
“I did the right thing,” She repeated, as if trying to convince herself of this, “I did the right thing.”
Shaking my head violently, hoping that by doing so I would wake up from this nightmare, I backed away from the woman who had killed my boyfriend. One step. Two. In seconds, I had my hand on the doorknob. “I hope I never see you again,” I whispered huskily, and slipped out the back door.
At first I ran, ran as fast and far away as I could away from what had been my home. Familiar houses flashed by through my tears. Sprinting away from everything I knew, I felt almost free, one with the night that enveloped me in her blanket of darkness.
I’d left the house without my phone and my mother had never bought me a car. My friends all lived at least ten miles away so I couldn’t stay with any of them. The police station wasn’t any closer. So I did the only thing I could do. I walked.
I’d left my town and was now on a long dirt path I’d driven by many times, but had never walked on. Everything looked different from the ground. Dust kicked up from my sneakers made me cough and got in my eyes, small animals peeked out from their burrows, the trees that lined the path seemed larger, more ominous than they did when I was in a car. The thing I noticed most though, was the cold. I’d left the house without a jacket and was now beginning to regret it. All I had on was shorts and the skimpy T-shirt I’d worn to bed. Hugging myself tightly, I continued walking, trying to find something to distract me from the cold. Jimmy. Just thinking about him made my stomach twist and my throat swell. Blinking back tears, a sudden anger came over me. What had Jimmy done wrong? What had he ever done to deserve death? Nothing. Nothing at all. And still, he’d been murdered. By my mother.
I spent the next few hours planning revenge. I would go back and avenge my lover. My friend. Concentrating on something other than Jimmy calmed me, gave me a new sense of purpose. The first thing I knew I needed was a phone. When I finally got to a gas station, I dug a few coins out of my pocket and inserted them into the pay phone. Then, I dialed the only number I knew would help. 9-1-1.
“Hello? How can I help you?”
“I’d like to report a murder.”
Having alerted the police, I realized that I had no plan. I’d been improvising up to this point. Now I was in the middle of nowhere, alone and defenseless. Where could I go? Meli. The thought of my best friend cheered me up considerably. But my happiness was short lived. Digging into my pocket for more change, I realized I’d used my last coins to call the police.
“Why?” I cried, collapsing on the side of the dirt road, half hoping I’d be run over and put out of my misery, “Why? Why Jimmy? Why me?”
If I’d been in a fairy tale, a good-looking guy might have put a hand on my shoulder and told me everything would be alright. He’d whisk me away to his castle and we’d live happily ever after. But this was no fairy tale. Instead, I was left to wallow in self pity, surrounded my strangers who couldn’t care less.
Once I’d pulled myself together, I went into the gas station.
“Excuse me?” I greeted an employee, “Could I borrow a phone?”
“Sure, little lady,” he leered at me, exposing rows of rotten teeth.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking the phone he offered, “I’ll just be outside.”
My first instinct was to call home. Here, where nothing was familiar, it was easy to imagine that I’d imagined everything, that it was all a bad dream. I could almost imagine my mother picking up and asking me how my day was. She’d always been good to me. She’d raised me. Her killing Jimmy didn’t make any sense. Crazy. That’s what she was. Crazy. Or maybe I was. Maybe I’d imagined everything… Before my thoughts could go any further, I dialed my home. I just needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t going crazy.
“Hello?” a deep voice answered.
“Hi,” I replied, clutching the phone so tight my knuckles had turned white, “Is this the police?”
“Yes,” the man said, “Who is this?”
I took a deep, unsteady breath.
“Madam? Are you still there?”
“I’m Katharine. Joanna’s daughter.”
“Could you please come to the police station? We have a few questions for you.”
They sent a car for me when I told them that I had no mode of transportation.
“Hello,” the driver greeted me cheerily, “I’m Fred.”
“Hey,” I murmured uncertainly, closing the car door behind me, “I’m Katharine.”
When Fred dropped me off at the police station a few minutes later, he instructed me to walk in through the front door. In the lobby, there would be a police officer waiting for me.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling slightly, “You’ve been a big help.”
“My pleasure,” he said, waving as he drove away, leaving me alone once again. But now I knew where I was going.
Just as Fred had said, there was a police officer waiting for me as I walked in the door.
“Follow me,” he instructed, “We need to ask you a few questions.”
When we entered the room where I would be questioned, the officer nodded to me and then to the man sitting at the only table in the room before leaving.
“Hello,” the man at the table greeted me, motioning for me to sit, “I’m Steve. You’re Joanna’s daughter, right?”
“I’m Katharine,” I said, defensive.
“Well, Katharine, you don’t mind if I ask you a few questions, do you?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Was Jimmy Harland your boyfriend?”
Hearing his name, I gasped at a tight pain in my chest.
“Are you alright?” Steve asked, not looking especially concerned.
“Yes,” I managed to choke out, pushing back tears, “he was my boyfriend.”
“I see,” Steve said, scribbling something on the pad of paper in front of him, “Do you know who murdered Jimmy?”
“Yes,” I growled, pain and anger overtaking my sorrow.
“And who was that?”
“My mother.”
“Did you call at nine thirty this morning to report a murder?”
“Yes.”
The questions came at me like a hoard of irritated bees, hurting me and leaving me weary.
“The wicked at heart probably know something,” Steve muttered to himself before asking me, “Are you sure you don’t know anything else?”
“No,” I sighed, “I’ve told you everything.”
“Oh my god!” Meli exclaimed when I told her about Jimmy’s death, leaving out that my mother had killed him, “Are you ok? How did it happen?”
Ignoring her questions, I asked, “Could I stay with you for the night?”
“Of course!”
I hung up the phone feeling hollow, like there was something missing inside of me. I needed to see her, I decided.
“Could I see Joanna?” I asked the officer who had let me borrow his phone.
“She’s a murder suspect so she’s under high security…”
“Suspect?!” I wanted to screech at the idiot, “She murdered my boyfriend!”
Instead, I smiled sweetly and said, “I’d really like to see my mother, Sir.”
“Well, since you’re family…”
Minutes later, I was standing in front of my mother, only separated my bars. When she saw me, she smiled, “Oh, honey. It’s so good to see you!”
I didn’t answer. Just stared. Horrified. Angry. Hurt.
“I’m not sure why they put me here, Hon,” she continued, “They said something about that naughty boy. What was his name? Oh right!” she exclaimed, “Jimmy!”
“Yes!” I said, my voice a few octaves too high, “Jimmy.”
She nodded, smiling.
“Jimmy,” I repeated, on the verge of hysterics, “The boy you murdered!”
“Oh, yes,” she said conversationally, as if we were talking about how nice it was outside, “I remember now. He was sitting down on his bed when I came over. I had a gun.”
“Stop!” I cried, grabbing at her through the bars that separated us, “Or I’ll…”
“He looked surprised when I shot him,” she continued, “Some of them look relieved, some scared, but Jimmy was predictable. Surprised,” she mused, smiling to herself, “surprised.”
“You monster!” I roared, throwing punches through the bars. “You…”
“Oh, honey,” she sighed, smiling kindly, “I’m glad you’re taking this so well. Give me a hug.”
As she approached me, arms extended wide, I continued punching. I could reach her easily now. She didn’t move, as if waiting for me to embrace her.
“Aw, Hon, come give me a kiss.”
As she took another step closer, I wrapped my hands around her neck and squeezed tight.
“You ruined my life,” I whispered, grinning, “Now it’s time for me to end yours!”
A police officer, noticing this, pulled me away. I was still laughing as they locked me up. “You ruined my life!”
Author notes
-The wicked at heart probably know something.
Woody Allen
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option #3
- Writing Whatever You Want group list • next in list
A contest entry
- Quote Me On That by Hales13.
400 points, ended June 20, 2007, 8 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Options!!! Pls Enter!!!!! by mydarlinghamburger.
175 points, ended June 13, 2007, 23 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Click Me! by Peaceloveandbeatles.
135 points, ended June 17, 2007, 5 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - SW Presents--Mystery--3 Month Gold or Silver at stake! by Violet Moodswing.
700 points, ended July 16, 2007, 15 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 26 of 26
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very interesting well done. good luck with the contest.
Emma -
Thanks for your entry
It definately kept my attention all the way through. Definately some horrifying thoughts. The ending seemed a little hollow though. But that is just me and probably my dislike of people getting into their own trouble as a result of someone elses craziness.
Overall, though, it was a disturbing read that leaves a person thinking.
Best of luck in the contest
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I was lost though the first lines of dialog all the way until the kid? ran out. The dialog was fine, but you might add a paragraph or two to set the scene and identify the characters before the conversation. You could ever introduce the girl thinking about her boyfriend and possibly worrying about something her mom did or said earlier in the day to set the tone and the scene.
9-1-1 is a free call, even from a pay phone, if you put money in and dial it, the money automatically spits out because the operator will make a connection and triggers the refund. This is what happens when you do for any free call.
If you just saw your brother? lover? anybody murdered it is unrealistic that thinking about your best friend would cheer you up.
The ending is flat. Unlikely unless this was in early 1960's or so that they would have been looking at each other through bars and not plexi-glass.
This story creaks, I never forget it is a story as I'm reading it. The plot is there, but the characters are not really developed.
It does have a nice pace and flow though. Keep working on it, I know you can make it better. You have a nice hand with the dialog portions.
beginning: 3, language: 3, plot: 3, ending: 2, dialog: 3, characters: 2.
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Your beginning was beautiful.. It held a lot of promise, had me wondering why the mother had done that.. I honestly thought the mystery in this was the reason or the mother's motivation.. and that it would be uncovered along the way ^_^ I did love that part, especially the confrontation with the mother in the beginning.. however (this is just what I felt, so just a personal opinion while reading this), as I read, your next parts just... paled in comparison. I felt as if you lost the drive that had you writing the beginning. So, yes, the following parts did not impact me as much as the beginning did.
The last bit also confused me.. they locked Katharine up? Like in prison or in a mental ward? x.x (sorry!)
Thank you so much for your entry ^_^
Good luck with the contest
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Thank you for entering and good luck in the contest.
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Great job
I really think that you got the reader with this piece because of such realistic dialogue. I've always been told that the best art is what depicts reality, and the dialogue you wrote really did. Good luck in the contest. -
Interesting. It left me wondering. Very good write, and good luck in the contest.
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Wow!! Pretty brave to try and kill her mother at the police station, but I liked it. Good luck in the contest and thanks for entering.
~*Brooke*~☺ -
ahan.......mental mystery....very imaginative!! its different fro what i thought it wud be, i wasnt expecting anything like this......
crazy mom- crazy kid? its sorta confusing....the idea is left unclear at most of the parts!!!
despite that i like it.....its vivid and the emotion running is high and clear!!!
very gud!!!
Cheers!!! -
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sorry about the confusion! i like to leave a lot to the imagination.. maybe too much
glad you liked this anyway!
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I really enjoyed reading this, its well written, however, the way you spaced things... you made a paragraph, almpst after every sentence, i just think you should have paragraphed itdifferent, but i still think it was a good story~
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sorry about the confusing paragraphing! i'll try to fix that.
glad you liked the story anyway!
thanks!
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hey, i'm just letting everyone know that the contest judging is going to be a little slow, I just got hit with a crazy schedule, but I will get it done as soon as I can.
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This was very well written, you conveyed the characters thoughts very well, and the whole story moved along at a good pace to keep the reader's attention.
However, I wont deny that this was a little wierd, but its what you were trying to convey, so it was really well done.
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I really like how this ends, as if the girl finally snaps herself... Or perhaps she has been the crazy one all the time?
Very well written story!
Original and great, very well done Sara! =D
=)
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 2, characters: 5.
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thanks Mads! =]
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Wait a minute. That last line really threw me. Who's crazy in this story? Is the daughter imagining her mother as the insane one and the daughter is actually crazy, just talking to herself?
It was a good story, a few grammatical errors though.
"He'd been murdered. By my mother." It may go better like this "He'd been murdered - by my mother."
And, also there were a few instances where the typo "me" I thiknk was suppose to be "be."
Once again, great story. And, if you happen to write a second part just leave me a message!
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the way i see it, the crazy mom killed her daughter's boyfriend (and others). hearing how her mother had killed her boyfriend, the girl goes completely mental. so, i guess they're both crazy
i'll re-read this to look over the typos and the awkward sentences. thanks for pointing that out!
glad you liked this. thanks!
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I meant "me" was suppose to be "my" lol. Sorry
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lol i assumed that
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OMG... the mom killed her daughter's boyfriend??? And she's killed BEFORE?! OMG...
This was scary and awesome and thrilling and amazing but still really scary and I loved it I just wanted you to know that can you tell I liked it? (sorry if that was difficult to understand... )
The mom is insane.
Last sentence- "You ruined me life!" (was that supposed to be 'my' life???)
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG...
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lol thanks so much!
(i changed the "You ruined me life" part.)
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This was kool... R u gonna write more? I'd like 2 kno wat happened after.
And maybe why her mother didn't like him...
Keep up the good work,
Thanks for entering my contest
Good Luck
Frm MDH
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i might continue this story. thanks!
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this was a good story, but did you use the quote in the story? i couldn't find it in there. that is part of the rules. other than that, great job.
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thanks for adding the quote in there, good use of it too. =) good luck, and thanks for your entry! -
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sorry about that! i'll add the quote asap.
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