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Linguaholic

Another story in the making


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I read the previous thread where each one added a line to create a story. It was really interesting to read, starting from a happy picture, through tragedy, morbid, funny, to downright bizarre! So here's another one..not a fairy tale beginning, perhaps not a beginning at all, but let's see where it goes!

I was alone at home last Sunday, with the alert of the storm upon us, when the stranger came knocking at our door.

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He took the picture back from me, and gazed at it.  "This is a picture of my daughter...five years ago.  It's the only picture of her that I have."  He paused and, then, in a voice I could barely hear, he said, "Yes, it's been that long since I last saw her."

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"You came to the right place," I said, "come right in. I think I've heard something about a missing girl."

I stepped back, careful to conceal the bathtub full of ice where the carcass of the last unlucky person who visited my den was lying. The man hesitated.

"Do I smell something?" He asked.

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"I am sorry I haven't introduced myself. My name is Joe Johns." said the old man stepping in.

The name seemed familiar and there was something weird about how quickly the look of horror disappeared from his face. But I ignored that, you come across a lot of weird people when your hobbies are as strange as mine.

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I held a cup of tea on my right hand, the butcher's knife on my left behind my back. I could hear the wind howling and felt a draft, I must have left an window open. It was beginning to rain outside, the storm was almost upon us. I entered the living room. Mr. Johns was gone.

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He did however leave the picture of his daughter on the coffee table. With it was a pre-typed note that read: "If you happen to see or hear anything about my daughter, please go to the pub on the corner of 5th and Main. I  have practically lived there since she has been gone. If I'm not there, Barney the bartender will know how to find me."

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I set my knife down on the table and sat down, picking up the picture and staring at it. All of a sudden, I had an epiphany. The girl in the picture came knocking on my door five years ago.

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She looked younger in the picture, and the faux black & white effect almost fooled me, but it was definitely her. Looked like one of those selfies kids put on the Internet. She didn't smile as much when I first met her, alone at that park in front of Town Hall. How could I've forgoten her face? How could I forgot the girl who got away? And, most important, how did her father happen to come by my door?

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I sat and wondered. I drifted into the memory of our first encounter. That awful night. The rain was relentless and the road was dangerous. I was driving down the road. All of a sudden, there she was. Standing in the rain. She looked beautiful under the street light. Her face seemed like the beauty only angels have. 

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"Do you have anyplace to go?", I asked her. She nodded a negative. "Is it okay if I take you to my place, to dry you up?". She nodded yes.

I drove on to my house, my mind racing with anticipation. A sad lost girl with nowhere to go - the perfect victim.

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Physically he wasn't there but I still had an uneasy feeling that he was nearby.  The wind howled through the open window, causing my steaming tea cup to rattle in the saucer.  Despite the sharp knife in my hand I felt very vulnerable and unsettled.

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