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The End of Brice M. Princeton
The End of Brice M. Princeton
The rain streaked down the grimy windows as long, bony fingers slowly pried them open. The window creaked with age as they slid aside. A medium sized figure climbed into the house without so much as a clink on the moldy planks from the wearers boots. Pity to whom who did not know what was entering the walls of his poor dwelling.
The dwelling was not even worthy of the name shack. It sat lonely on a hill concealed in overgrown shrubs, vines, and weeds scented with creepiness. A muddy dirt road winded itself to the town below. A blur of light came from the town through the pouring rain. Nothing in the town made a sound, all were asleep. The slight breeze turned to a howling wind that whipped around the buckets of water that were being poured down on the earth. The moon was not to be seen and thunder rumbled through the sky claiming that night to some evil deed. It would be a night that would be marked with horror, a night that no one would ever forget.
The figure stealthily made its way along the wall to the door opposite the entrance. In the sudden flash of lightning, metal glinted in an evil twinkle. The thunder laughed at the sight of the piece of sharp metal, and the long bony hand reached out from under a long dark cloak. It sought out the shape of the latch on the door.
A blood curdling scream bounced around the hill and into the valley. It hit tuned out ears of the residents. All were asleep; none heard.
The milk girl trudged up the dirt road to the shack of the old man. She always did the old man last. It was her most detested time of the early morning. The sun was not up yet and it was still cool and shivery. Whenever she entered the premises of the shack, the mass of vines, overgrowth, and thorny branches, seemed to reach out for her. As she neared the house, she could sense something unusual. No one answered her knock. So she stepped right in and yelled, “Hello! Is anybody home?” Nobody answered her call either. So she set her pail on the wooden table. She walked over to the door opposite the front door. She set her hand out to knock when a pair of hands leaped out at her.
“Ahhh! Help!” She yelled out.
“Quiet!” hissed the unknown owner of the hands. It was too dark in the corner to see who was there. “…who are you!”
“I-I-I’m Hanna Shirley. I-it-I-I bring the milk here. I was just doing my duty, sir, and…” a slap whipped out and knocked the girl to the ground.
“Never…Never call me, SIR!” Hanna looked up frightfully with confusion. The only clue she got were red, unblinking eyes that stared at her. Hanna trembled and she shuddered in terror. Then the hands grabbed her and dragged her out of the shadows into the steadily growing morning light. The face of a woman leaped out at Hanna. She didn’t feel intimidated anymore.
“Who are you?” she demanded while rising.
“Don’t address me like that,” Hanna received a kick in the shins. “And you really want to know who I am? Ha-ha how amusing, go look in the old man’s room and see for yourself who I am!” And evil, murderous grin broke across the woman’s face. Hanna walked over to the old man’s room. The door opened a crack and she screamed.
At that moment the kindly woman who took care of the old man’s shopping was stepping into the shack. She had heard the scream from inside and hurried to aid whoever it was. At the first sight she screamed. A woman leaped out with a knife in her hand and held it to the throat of the girl.
“Come a step closer and I will slit her throat!”
Mrs. Jackal, the kindly woman, stopped dead in her tracks. She had to make a decision to save Hanna. Either let the evil woman take Hanna captive or try and save her and maybe she’ll be quick enough, and maybe not. She chose to risk the latter one and gathered all her speed and might. Mrs. Jackal leaped forward and slammed herself into the woman. The knife flew from the woman’s hands, but after the knife made a small cut on Hanna’s throat. Blood was drawn, declaring war.
Mrs. Jackal and the female killer wrestled on the floor. Hanna jumped up to retrieve the knife in case the woman managed to get it again. But she was pulled short and tripped be the woman. The woman ripped herself of Mrs. Jackal’s grip, and both women jumped up. Mrs. Jackal was a black belt in Judo, and brought her leg around her opponent’s leg and threw her on the ground. Hanna grabbed the knife and put it against the woman’s throat. The woman struggled in vain, only receiving a cut from the knife.
Mrs. Jackal found some rope and tied the thrashing woman’s hands and feet. While tying the woman’s feet, Mrs. Jackal noticed a name written on the bottom of the woman’s boots. Brice M. Princeton. Mrs. Jackal gasped. Brice Princeton was wanted by the city only ten miles away. She was the state’s renowned jail jumper. She had escaped three times from the city’s common jail. Mrs. Jackal gagged their prisoner with gusto. They must hurry to the town jail immediately! So they dumped Princeton in a wheel barrow and moved as fast as possible to the town’s police headquarters.
As Princeton was escorted to a prison cell, she looked back and shook her fist at them. Hatred gleamed in her eyes, and her whole body shook with blind rage. She looked like a beast, a beast who knew her end. Hangman’s noose.