It was a dreary day in autumn of the year 2015. My birthday had just recently past, and I wish I could travel back and make it last longer. One of my childhood friends had sent me a nice card with a small ring inside. He requested for me to visit him at his home of in the countryside of New York. The man mentioned how he had grown ill the past few years and the doctors did not know what was wrong. Knowing I was one of his only companions I complied saying I would arrive in a week. And here I am driving for hours to meet someone I haven’t seen in ages.

Humming along to some of my favorite songs I drive on lonely roads, double checking my gps on my phone. It starts to rain, more like spit rain. Soon it becomes a downpour. My windshield wipers are on full throttle as I squint through the streams of water. It seems to rain for a while. What a great way to spend my day, driving in pouring rain to a place I have never been.

Finally I make it to my destination, or at least the place that my gps was leading me to. The rain had let up, but the clouds still hung ominous in the sky. A heavy fog was setting in. I pulling into the driveway of a house. In the letter my friend had mentioned to leave my car in the garage, and that it would open when I approached it. I followed his directions and parked my car.

I walked up to the front door. The house was probably average size but gave off a feeling of being large. The paint was slightly peeling and the wood moldy. It must be all the fog, maybe it is normal around here. I twist the ring on my finger. The ring I received for my birthday. The house gives me the creeps. I double check that my phone is safe in my pocket. Not knowing how to dress I just wore an old pair of light blue jeans and a flowy blouse. My dark brown hair flowed only a little past my shoulders.

After a few moments I rang the doorbell. A doctor opened the door for me and bid me enter. I stepped into the house. You could see the remnants of a joyful and lovely house alight with love, but at this moment it seemed desolate and empty.

The doctor lead me up the stair and to a bedroom. I entered cautiously. Sitting at a desk was my old friend. He had grown up quite a bit. His shoulders were broad and his hair tidy. He seemed normal middle aged man, except for how skinny he was. Hearing the door open He turned his head. My hazel eyes met piercing blue.

His beauty knocked the breath out of me. He started to stand, but the doctor shook his head gestured for me to sit on the bed and left. We sat for a few moments, just drinking up the sight of each other. He spoke first.

"I have not seen you in forever. You are a sight for sore eyes. I have noticed you are wearing my ring, do you not have a family of your own?" His voice is coarse and dry, but I can hear his happiness and joy beneath. He seemed really glad I was here.

"Do you live alone?" I asked respectfully.

"No, I live with my sister." His voice took on a melancholy tone. His whole face seemed to deteriorate into a deep sadness.

"Is there something wrong?"

"She is so close to death. I am afraid she has an illness, a mysterious illness that travel in the family. Without her I will be the last Usher, without her I will be alone." A tear trailed down his cheek. I brushed it off gently with my fingertip. He flinched.

"Sorry."

"It's ok, I'm just not accustomed to anyone touching me, or have a conversation with me."

We spend the whole day and the next few. Catching up with each other. I noticed that he is prone to paranoia, but I have learned to cope with it and help him overcome his excessive nervousness. By the third day I started to feel something blooming in my chest. We had gotten a lot closer.

It was the next night that it happened.

I was sleeping in the guest bedroom when there was a harsh and loud pounding, pounding at my door. Being jerked awake I walked over to it and opened the door cautiously. I had known to be careful in this house. It was a house unlike any other.

As soon as my door opened my friend rushed in closing the door behind him. I had never seen him this scared. He looked like he had seen a ghost, and with this house that is probably possible. The terrified man enclosed me in his arms sobbing. He quickly explained to me what he saw in gasping breaths.

"I had been resting in my bed, not sleeping for I have not been able to recently. I hear a moan from my sister's room and rushed into her room to make sure she was ok, and did not need anything. When I arrived the room was dark and freezing. I walked over to her bed to check on her and she was dead. Dead and gone!" At this he began shaking trying to control his cries.

"Did you call the doctor?" I tried to ease him.

"No! If the doctor found her dead he would ruin her body trying to find out what killed her. I tell you that she is not going to be touched by any scientist after her death. The illness that killed her was a mysterious family illness. I have a similar one."

I squeezed him tighter to my chest and bade him to sit with me on my bed.

"Not wanting her to be harmed I placed her inside a temporary tomb and buried her in her favorite place in the garden." He started shaking again, and I clasped his hands. I rubbed my fingers along the back of his hands until he calmed again.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" I whispered.

"After returning from burying her in the night I started to hear sounds. Weird sounds from outside. A while later I could not sleep, I felt as if someone was watching me. I looked out my window and there she stood, bloody and bruised from her struggles. It was then that I realized what I had done. I buried her alive! Now she is going to come after me! When the terror overtook my mind I ran straight here, to you." His hands were turning white as he held mine as if he was holding on for dear life.

I do my best to comfort him. Most likely he was hallucinating and his paranoia was out of control. Turning towards him I hugged him close. There was a storm raging outside the house. Trying to distract him I started to sing.

He watched me like I was a angel. His face began to look more normal and no longer was he shaking. He stood up. I stopped singing and stood too. Before I knew what was happening his hands were pulling me towards him I barely had enough time to take a breath before our lips touched. The feeling of his soft lips against mine took my breath and strength away. My knees gave out and we tumbled onto the bed.

My heart was fluttering when I began to make out a noise above our kissing. It sounded like footsteps, footsteps approaching the bedroom door. I sprang away, interrupting the kissing. As soon as we separated he heard to noise to. Both of us turned as white as a ghost even though we were just flushed and warm.

The door sprang open and there stood his sister. She was bloody and bruised, looking a mess. It must have been grueling to escape a coffin and climb out the ground in a storm like this. We stood, frozen still.

Looking at me she shook her head slowly and tried to smile. I felt a chill creep down my spine. She turned her attention to her brother. Stumbling along she reached out trying to grasp him. He took a step back her face turned sad, and she seemed to crumble even more if that was possible. Finally he relented and offer her his hand.

There they stood. Hand in hand, an arms length away for what seemed like an hour. She did not speak once. He seemed solemn. It was almost as if they were communicating with each other silently. I watched. She still has not spoken. Starting to tremble she righted herself on the bedpost. He held onto her waist as if she was dying, and I believe she was.

He gentle lay her on the bed and cried softly. She smile weakly and nodded her head. At this he started to go crazy. It was if the last string holding in his sanity was being severed at that very moment. I tried to console him. I tried to help. I tried to show him how much I care. I tried to make him understand something I myself do not understand. Even his sister tried to get him to stop. She could barely talk or whisper. He ended up hitting me on my head with a chair.

Barely holding my consciousness I tried to save him one last time but I could not. He collapsed dead, dead even before his sister. I struggled to his side. He was dead. I turned towards the bed. His sister's smile faltered and her eyes closed as she joined him.

I felt a sob wrench out of my body. I had grown to love him and his sister though I did not really know them. But now what? I sat down next to his body and fought away the blackness. My head was throbbing. The pain was so intense I felt numb.

It did not take long until I gave way, gave way to the darkness as well.

I was in shock after the senior prom, so I hardly remember what happened. All I remember was Tommie and the blood.

Tommie was Sue's boyfriend. He was the best looking guy in school, and Sue let me borrow him for one magical night. He was so kind to me! We danced and ate and laughed. I felt like a real person. I felt beautiful.

Then I experienced the best thing that had ever happened to me. We were crowned prom King and Queen. I honestly felt bad that Sue had missed it. She should have been the queen, but she gave that gift to me. I'll never forget her for that.

Like I said, I don't remember much more about that night. I do recall going home and washing blood off my dress and my body. The smell was horrible, and it was sticky as maple syrup. I scrubbed myself red getting the blood off me.

Somehow, I ended up at the bus station at dawn, and I had my mother's sewing money on me. I took it before I left for the dance. I had intended to run away from home after my wonderful night with Tommie. For the whole trip to Los Angeles, California I thought that's what I had done. For days, I watched scenery roll past my window and enjoyed mood swings between excitement and serenity.

It was after midnight when I got to the depot in L.A., I realized that I hadn't brought a bag with me. I had left it back in Maine. I was wondering what to do when a young woman appropached me and asked if I wanted to split a cab so she could afford to get down town. She seemed really nice so I agreed.

During the ride Hannah asked me where I was going and I told her that I needed to get a room. I was lying, I didn't have enough money left for that, but I didn't yet know her too well. She offered me a night on her couch, and at first I resisted, but then I thought about my other options and quickly understood that I didn't have any.

Things went great at first! We drank wine and watched a movie. I was so happy that I had made such a good friend so quickly. Because Hannah and I got on so well, and the fact that I was in a new and thrilling place, I though that my life was about to become everything I had ever dreamed that it could be. Someone finally liked me, and I was on my own. Anything was possible!

Then the movie ended and the national news came on.

They told all about what had happened in my hometown, and for a minute it seemed that they were chalking it up to a freak accident at the school. Then they told about what happened to my mother. Her body been found with second and third degree burns and multiple stab wounds. The news station said that fresh leads suggested that foul play was suspected in my mother's murder, and that I was missing. When they showed my senior picture, Hannah turned to me with wide, animal eyes and scooted away from me on the sofa.

I couldn't help it. I swear I didn't mean to do it. I panicked. I couldn't let Hanna turn me in.

First, I pinned her against the wall, and sent a small pillow flying to her face to supress her screams. With one look I whipped the wine glass from Hanna's delicate wrist. It hit the opposite wall with a crystaline crash. Next, I used my mind to lift the broken stem of the glass to her arms. I cut her from wrist to elbow.

It took about ten minutes or so but I kept the pillow to her face, not smothering her, until she finally died from blood loss. It was funny, but I didn't feel bad about it. I just did what I had to do to survive.

Anyway, flash foward 30 years and I am a fairly rich woman officially employed in estate sales. I will confess that Hannah wasn't the last person that I murdered. However, you should also know that after killing her, I stuck to lowlife scum that I found in bars, and the occasional Jehova's Witness or Mormon. I think religion should be a personal journey and no one should shove their beliefs down another person's throat.

My husband, daughter Susan, and I are all atheists but we don't try to go around converting anyone to Science.

I had plastic surgery and have changed my name, so don't bother to look for me. If I feel the need, I will find you.

"GO TO BED" Ashley screamed. Being a babysitter sucked already, and now, having to stay here for another 3 hours was not helping her mood. The olswen twins were the worst, always crying. That's just cause of the bad parenting, but, they were really getting on Ashley's nerves tonight. Oh course though, the moment she yelled at them, the house grew slient. Finally, thank god.

Ashley threw herself down on the couch and sighed. She ran her hands through her hair an reached for the remote that was laying on the brass coffee table in front of her. History channel? Not a chance. Romance? Heck no. Disney? One word, why? "UHHHHH, nothing good is on tonight." she groaned. Ashley flipped through the channels once more before shutting off the tv. That's when the phone rang.

She slowley raised herself from the couch and made her way to the pay phone on the wall. Her tired fringers grasped the plastic and pulled it up to her ear.

"Hello? Miss Olsen isn't in tonight but..." A small chuckle came from the other end. Confused and a little scared, Ashley hung up the phone. What just happened? I bet just a prank call right? What ever. She walked back to the couch only for the phone to ring again. Ashley carefully made her way to the phone once more, only this time, words filled her ear.

"You might want to check on the kids young one." More laughter. Oh my god. She hung up the phone and her shaking hand could barely dial 911 without messing up.

"Hello? What's your emergency?"

"U,uh, this ma, man just called for the second time, first laughing, then the second time h, he, told me to check on the kids. I, I'm babysitting two twins, and I don't know w,what's going on and..."

"Ok miss," The woman on the other end said, "don't feak out, it was most likley just a prank call. We'll watch the line and if he calls again, we can track the location and put a stop to it. Nothing to worry about. Make sure all the doors are locked and windows are sealed, just in case. Set your alarm and you should be fine.

"Ohhh, ok,ok. Thank you. I, I am just alone an, and scared, and..." Ashley started."But, thank you."

"All right sweetie, just call back if something happens. Have a good night."

She hung up the phone and whipped the tears from her cheeks. Nothing to worry about, expect the shaking wouldn't stop. Uh, stupid shaking. Ashley laughed to herself and whipped her nose. Everything was gonna be ok, but that's when the phone rang again. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Sliently, she picked it up. Oh my god. He began talking. He. Oh my god. Ashley barely heard his words. Her heart was beating to fast.

"Young one, go check on the children. Go." More laughing. "Check on them. Go." His cackles filled her ear. Ashley hung up the phone and sobbed. Another call. The phone rang again. She answered.

The woman who helped her earlier was screaming when Ashley began talking. Screaming.

"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW. " With out any thought, she ran to the door. The knob twisted, and Ashely was gone. She just keep going. Going. Going. Run, run run. Don't die. Don't you dare die.

The police found her later that night, sobbing and alone next to the bus station pay phone. You see, the calls from the man had come from the upstairs phone. Upstairs, from the kids room. The room where the twins had been stabbed to death. Stabbed to death by the man who was their step-father. Their insane step-father.

There is a certain girl I love in the city of Abuja. In this crowded city she’s the needle in the haystack. My love for her accrued from my pith up on the day of Astarte arôme. I held her hand as we jolted through the park like #love birds that had just discovered sex. My eyes turning to the side in adoration of #angel galloping next to me. Her hair pretty like sundew on a Ghana dawn. A basking of affection angered for its form had not yet evolved into #matrimony. This was day 26 of this glorious ballad for lack of better words to describe a relationship that had us running from everyone else that shrove to keep us apart. We were not fit for each other and both families know it. Her father called me a wannabe and her mother always thought I was on a fast track to extinction. I shoved off their misconceptions and here she stood, with me, and I believed it could be to the end. Her parents were primitive but those minds make the best wisdom. Business wasn’t #blossoming as we expected, motivation was low and inflation was on an all-time high. She knows what I do and she’s good with it. Sometimes my father says she’s stupidly in love because he didn’t believe any female could take me serious. I feed him though, because he’s my dad.

She’s sitting on a concrete slab as climbing grass caress her bottom half, she’s laughing at my jokes. I’m not that funny but she loves to make me feel good. My friends find no interest in her because they find her easy to please, but they have not laid with her. I’m surprised she chose me, Onowu would be better, his father runs an empire. We are not afraid to hold hands in public so we do it often, damning the consequences. She leans over and tells me the colour of her underwear, teaser. Her sweet nectar drenches my atman with holy water. In this treacherous road she has been my pathfinder. I speak of baboonish words when I try to describe her affections because it’s a double-edged sword. In this city I live in with no job, I can leave on my own accord yet she keeps me. Her sisters said the daintiest things about me but she hushes them like ‘Big Mama’s met her perfect match’. This might just be youthful exuberance but the next words that came out from within me weren’t.

“Do you love me?” My heart throbbed just thinking of the answer her fragile heart was going to bellow. She smiled, something she did a lot. I think it’s just an impression to keep all the insults in.

Today I want to know how she feels because all I have given her was cheap thrills. She was still here and that should have been enough but I’ve met ‘karashika’ before and I drew a circle around la femme for a while. She stood up, did a spin and sat back down but now you can almost guess the expression on my spotless portrait. My mind was restless and a thousand images began to flash through my eyes. She moves closer and now I could smell her true aura. By now my nose was engaged in slow whine with malt liquor. She always drank spirits, this was a new girl. I put my hand around her wide hips and shoved her up, she held me even closer. The intoxicating stench was overwhelming and I was bound for disgust. She then leaned over to steal a kiss and I shrugged.

This was the girl I dare to say, I loved.

Her heft started to weigh on me and she felt like a bag of cement, the girl I knew was a size three.

She caught me on my left cheekbone and I blurted. No telling where she had been but I hated malt liquor. My hands were holding her tight for fear I might lose her.

This was the girl I loved.

I wanted to pop the question but now she would never know. She drew away for a split second and began to giggle, heads were begin to turn to our direction. Her beautiful tenor was shrinking my ego to the minimalist form. I startled away from scene and she followed, hands stretched out as if she wouldn’t let go. I held her once more for fear she might freak. She leaned on my broad shoulders as I called a taxi. I put her in and followed with a shut of the door, “Just keep driving”. Leaning into my utility pack I found a sharp razor. She was snoring and I was agitated. I drew her head back to expose a neck vein and slit it. Blood poured more than in the movies, I thought. I found a handkerchief in her bag that I used to clean my hands. The taxi was an Uber so the driver didn’t see it. I stopped the car abruptly and paid him the fare.

This was the girl I loved but by the aura she had ploughed with another lover.

What broke my heart? Like every girl I have been with, they always ended up sleeping with my best friend. I have problems and even as I drift into the night, I know someday I will account for my decisions.