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Killer Footsteps

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The night fell. The grandfather clock in the other room ticked steadily and quietly. I lay there on the bed, looking up at the darkened ceiling of the room. It was about midnight. Three hours from then would be the anniversary of my mother’s death. She was killed five years ago on that very night at 3 AM. The Killer was now in prison. He was a local mad man with a earless attitude and cold touch. Whenever you heard his voice, an eerie feeling entered your bloodstream, chilling your blood. The hairs on the back of your neck rose. You cringed at his gaze. His eyes penetrated deeply into your soul, grasping at a terror, waiting for your inevitable shriek.
The Killer was caught accidently after the murder of my mother. I was 16 at the time. I came home from a party to find him towering over my mom’s motionless body, swinging his knife at her torso. I screamed and ran out. I went to my neighbor’s house and called 911. When the police got there a minute later, he was nowhere to be found. After the ambulance took away her body, I cried on the couch staring at the bloody residue on the floor. My father was at a business meeting, which went late. I had to be alone for the rest of the night. Logically, I did not sleep.

Later that day I got a phone call from the chief of police telling me they caught him. They said he had blood on his pants. Which he claimed came from a pig he butchered an hour ago, considering he was the local town’s butcher. However, they did a DNA test that came back positive it was a perfect match with my mom’s. I sighed with relief and cried endlessly over the loss I experienced.

That day, five years later, the Killer got out on parole. They said he has been good and following all the rules. The town prison was a small crowded one; therefore, they must let him go because they have no more empty cells. Darn them! They let a killer on the loose, right on my mother’s death anniversary. Who’s to say what is going to happen…

I was right. I was at work at noon that day, and I saw him staring at me from outside. I was petrified. My palms started to get clammy. My forehead turned hot with anxiety. My nervousness sharply increased. My heart felt like a racecar going 350 miles per hour. I felt like dying of fear. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them, he was gone, and I went back to my work. That night, I heard footsteps upstairs while being in the kitchen. I saw the Killer come down, my eyes went black, and I could not feel a thing. I lay on the floor, I felt him standing above me. I was ready, ready to die…





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