"Murder" by Kristi Fritsch

A little story I wrote when I was bored one day:

Cindy had never contemplated murder before.  Never had to plan it out and plot.  Yet, here she was, gun in hand, shifting in the shadows. 

Her heart beat a hollow thump in her ear drums as she waited in the chilly, dark kitchen.  Only the light from the moon came through the blinds, illuminating enough for her eyes to see.  She heard movement upstairs, a subtle shift in the floor beams and she stiffened.  She would be found out; he would hear her before she could act.

Crouching behind the kitchen island she peaked around the corner to steal a glance at the door.  For a moment the cold metal of the gun touched her cheek and she jumped.  Her heart beat a little faster and she had to wipe her sweaty palms vigorously against her nightgown in order to keep a good grip on the gun.  Time slinked by as she sat.  Her knees ached and her feet tingled.  Even her eyelids tugged at her.  She was never usually up this late and going to bed right now seemed like such a nice idea.  It was clear she needed a distraction, otherwise she might fall asleep where she sat, and then she would be found out.  So she pondered all the events that led to her being here: alone, in the dark, with a gun.  She hadn’t come to this decision lightly; in fact it was only after the second attack that Cindy had concluded that this monster would have to be done away with. 

It was two weeks ago when Cindy came home to the news that her neighbor, and best friend, Barbie had been murdered in her condo.  A cold-blooded killer had stalked into her room at night and decapitated the sleeping woman.   She was found partially naked, sprawled on the bedroom floor, her nightgown in shreds, with her head only feet away.    

Hearing this news devastated Cindy.  She loved Barbie.  They had been friends since childhood.  They had gone everywhere together, to the park when they were little, to the pool as they got older, they even got matching rose tattoos.  They were closer than friends, they were sisters.  They laughed and cried together.  And they were both friends with Kelly.  Kelly was actually Barbie’s sister, however, the three of them hung out all the time.  She consoled Kelly after the brutal slaying of her sister, and she was even planning on taking Kelly away after the funeral to get her mind off of this tragedy.  However, on the eve of their trip, the same soulless killer stalked into Kelly’s house and enacted the same torment on her that her dear sister had undergone.  However, this time the soulless killer had taken Kelly’s head as a token of his crime.

It was almost unbearable to hear the news the second time.  And that’s when Cindy knew she had to act.  It was only logical that this murderous brute was after her friends, and she would let no more of them die at his hands.  And yes, she knew who it was.  Hank.  He had been their friend, once.  He had loved to play with them when he was younger, but as he got older something changed.  There was darkness in him, a guilefulness that overtook him, and soon he became violent towards them.  They finally decided they wanted him out of their circle of friends, and he was no longer invited to any of their gatherings.  However, he always seemed to find a way back in.  Sneaking outside the window, prowling until someone left the door unlocked, or a window open.

The last time he was kicked out of Barbie’s condo he had lashed out at her, smacking her across the face.  She hadn’t even had the stitches removed when she had died.  The anger of seeing her friend’s mauled face in the casket had struck her to the core, and now Hank would pay for what he had done. 

Cindy waited silently, ears straining to hear the slightest movement.  Only the tick of the clock above the sink could be heard.  Her exhaustion was overpowering her, but she knew that he would come.  She was next on his list.  It seemed like forever, but finally soft, muffled footsteps could be heard as he came in through the back door.  Body tensed, she waited for him to come to the kitchen.   He was so quiet it was almost supernatural, as if he was a wraith.

1…2…3…She counted her heartbeats, knowing that it wouldn’t take him long to pass through the kitchen door.  He made a soft swishing noise as he brushed against the doorway.  Peeking around the corner of the island again, she saw him as he went for a drink of water.  He looked so arrogant, so proud of his actions.  It was like he didn’t even care, like this was his “business,” just what he did for fun. 

Slowly, she lowered the gun until it was aiming at his black back.  He just stood there drinking, oblivious to what was to come.  Closing one eye she aimed right at his heart.  Taking a deep breath, she steadied her hand as she pulled back on the trigger.  There was a quick puff of air and a thwack noise, shortly followed by a screechy hiss and a low thud.

She waited a few heartbeats before unfurling herself from her position.  Standing, she walked over to where his dead body lay.  Hank was nothing more than a furry, black carcass now.   BB gun still in hand, Cindy stepped over his body and bounded up the stairs to her bedroom.  As she got into bed, she couldn’t help but smile knowing that justice had been served and that Hank the cat would no longer torment anymore of her dolls again.