The Letter

By Hannah Lindsay

An unkempt and rather grisly-looking man slumped in a chair with the computer screen reflecting off his glasses. His elongated fingers began to type furiously at the keys as the clock mocked him with how little time was left.

Dear Mama,

I’m sorry. It’s cold here, the food is bland, even the wind feels listless. It’s been so windy. I miss you. The days are dwindling down. I count the minutes on the clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock. No help here. I was craving your chicken and dumpling soup the other day so much that I swore I could almost taste it. The man came back. He stared at me from the corner of my cell. His eyes were lifeless and dull, blackened muck. I couldn’t sleep. So, I spit on him. My roommate decked me in the face for it. I miss you. It’s my birthday today in case you forgot. Anyways, I want to tell you what happened. It’s the least I can do for you.

It was Thursday when the shadowy man came back. You were at work for a night shift. I remember ‘cause it was the night I picked up the new Atari system and played Pong for hours. I was so happy that I had finally saved enough money for one. It wasn’t long into the night that I began to hear noises. Banging upstairs, glass shattering, which is when I saw him. I told you I had seen him before. You said I was crazy. I knew he was there, watching me from the shadows, lurking. His face was an abyss of apprehension and loathing. Pure evil. I could tell he was smiling. Even though he had no mouth.

At that point I began to run through the house. I grabbed the gun from your dresser, and he chased me outside. This demon of a man, the man with no face, just laughed and laughed at me. I turned to face him, and my blood began to boil. I felt the fury slowly raise my arm and I had to shoot him. Except it wasn’t him anymore.

I saw a different man lying there, lifeless. People surrounded me and took me down to the ground until the police came. I screamed, telling them the real killer was still on the loose. They didn’t listen. They found dead animals in the basement. I told the cops that I loved animals so much and wanted them with me all the time. I miss my cat. The man mocks me, he framed me, and I know he is going to kill again. Warn them for me, you have to, no one will listen to me.

They said it’s time to go. Please come.

With love,

Your son.

The room was stark white; fluorescent lights beamed in his eyes. These people would be the last people he would ever see. The ones who took him to his death. His heart beat loudly in his chest. He looked around the room, eyes moving erratically as he was tied to a cold and unforgiving table that sent shivers down his spine. The curtains against the wall opened, and there, sitting in the front row, was his mother. Her face was unreadable, but that didn’t stop the tears falling down his face. They asked him for his last words after a priest read him his last rites, and he glanced to his mother.

Except it wasn’t his mother sitting there when he looked back. Her body was the same, yet her face had changed into the man from the corner of his room.

“I don’t want to die.” The words came out as a barely audible whisper.

The shadowy man smiled.

Can you guess which song from the 1970's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Lindsay began began writing at a young age and dreamt of all things fantasy. Her first flash fiction piece, titled Sea Song was published in the 2015 Lost At Sea issue of Splickety Magazine. When she isn’t reading she enjoys spending quality time with her family. A long time sufferer of anxiety, depression and invisible illnesses, Hannah has sought to uplift people with her writing if only one metaphor at a time.

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