Jess set her shoes by the door and put her purse on the table in the foyer. "Royal? Hestia? I'm home!" Her two cats padded up to her on soft feet and rubbed against her legs affectionately. "Let's see..." Jess murmured to herself. "Did I get any mail today, kitties?" The cats, of course, didn't answer. Jess looked through the pile of unopened bills and advertisements and saw a single new envelope. It was the color of a pearl with the sheen taken away, and inside it was a note printed on dust-colored paper. The typed words read, "Look on your desk, Jess." She frowned, and walked over to her office. An envelope the exact same as the first one sat in the exact center of her desk. With a hint of trepidation, Jess ripped open letter to find another gray note, this time tinged ever so slightly with red. It read, "Jess, maybe you should look on the counter." She set the note down and hustled to the kitchen. This seemed slightly sinister, and she wanted it to be over. In the kitchen, Jess saw that same unmarked envelope on the counter, and the note inside had more of a red tint this time. "You probably shouldn't check the bathroom, Jess." She fast-walked to the bathroom and immediately spotted the now-familiar envelope on the shelf above the sink. Her fingers quickly ripped it open and she read the note that was now more red than gray: "You definitely shouldn't check the dining room, Jess." She hesitated, then jogged to the dining room and opened the envelope. The note had almost no gray on it, just a few spots on the paper that weren't blood red. "Whatever you do, DON'T LOOK IN THE BEDROOM." She took a deep breath, tensed her calves, whispered, "Might as well get it over with," and sprinted to the bedroom. She made it to the hallway. The man that had stepped from behind the door to slit her throat crouched beside her corpse, dipped the tip of his knife in the small puddle of blood by her open mouth, and let a single drop fall on one of the still-gray spots on the note in her limp hand. He left her there with his knife by her hand, his own hand sliding the note back into an envelope.
YOU ARE READING
File Under: Fiction, Speculative
Short StoryThis is a collection of short stories I write/co-wrote at a class I went to over the summer called Speculative Fiction. Don't judge me too harshly.
