Do You Wanna Talk to Me?
- Reads 77
- Votes 2
- Parts 6
Ongoing24m
Last published Wed, Jun 19, 2024
When an innocent wrong number turns into your worst nightmare.
This story is loosely based on true events. Something that happened to my sister during our teen years. If I finish my goal of completing by the end of summer 2024, I will add a chapter describing what really happened 😳😱😏.
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Updates 2x per week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
My goal is to get this story completed this summer!! 💯❤🤞🏼
Podcast coming soon!
All Rights Reserved
#44
abigail
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...
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