Short Stories I Made in Class

September 26, 2022

Prompt: You are in an interrogation room. A man walks in and throws a bunch of photos on the table in front of you. The photos are old and were taken at different points in history. You are in each one. He demands to know who you are...

My take:

   I was called in yesterday asking if I could come into the Police Station, which was weird. I hadn't done anything wrong nor had I thought I was caught, if I did anything at all.

   The police station wasn't that far away, just a 20-minute walk if I am not tired and sluggish. Thank goodness it was a nice day and wasn't raining. Man, those cars get super annoying with how they don't avoid me and just run into those puddles and leaving me drenched. Like, I get that you have somewhere to be, but could you at least be a little more courteous? I, also, have somewhere to be, just like you.

   Anyway, once I made it into the Police Station, a nice lady led me to an interrogation room and told me to wait for the head investigator. She gave me a snack and some water since I skipped breakfast to get here. The snack was, if you were wondering, some peanut butter crackers. These are the good kind also, and I didn't have a nut allergy, so I could eat them.

   The investigator came in calmly with some small things in tow. The investigator looked to be a man in his early to mid 30s. He didn't have any grey hairs nor did he have wrinkles on his face. Meaning, he either is taking good care of his skin and health, he isn't smiling much, or he is using a drug or something to keep himself looking young.

   "So, why did you call me in here, Sir," I asked the man. He didn't even glance my way while he set everything he had down. There was coffee, notes, and some photos, an interesting combination. Soon, he picked up the photos and started to organize them for one reason or another.

   Eventually, the man set the photos down in order, seemingly by date, based on how they looked. One seemed to be from the 1920s, another taken in the 40s, all the others coming from dates like that. I looked at all of them carefully, noticing one thing in common, how all the women in the photos looked like me, but more in their element.

   "What are you trying to show me?" I ask, sounding indifferent. The man took a sip of his coffee and waited a bit longer. This was worrisome for me.

   "We know," The man said. Those two words made me feel cold and scared me. Two words, multiple meanings.

   "Know what?" I asked sweetly, trying to mask how scared I was. The man set his coffee down and leaned closer to me. All the women in the photos were next to important people, one's who miraculously died the next day. One was Hitler, another was Max Weber, Marilyn Monroe, and Frank Sinatra. No one knew how they exactly died. They all say Hitler committed Suicide, Max Weber succumbed to lung infection, Marilyn Monroe overdosed, and Frank Sinatra had a fatal heart attack that killed him.

   "How you killed each and every one of them, and don't even try to dissuade me," The man said. 'Well, shit. Guess they do know,' I thought to myself, my face never showing my thoughts.

   "Well, interesting thought, but I have to go. Bye," I said while walking out. Ensuring no one here will ever remember me. 

(Thank you to all who are reading this! I probably would have decided to quit this if I didn't think anyone was reading this. Hope this was enjoyable and feel free to share what you wrote in the comment!)