Short Story
Here's a short preview of a short story that I've started working on. I'm trying to get back in the writing groove :)(Sorry if it's a little too morbid for your taste.)
Count Me In
By: Jennifer K. Messer
“You better be careful,” Isabella’s father said as he watched the evening news in the living room. An almost-empty bag of potato chips was sitting on his lap.
“Yeah, yeah,” Isabella said from the kitchen.
“I’m serious!” her father yelled, turning around as he spoke. “This killer means business, and he’s after girls just like you!”
Everyone knew about the California killer by that point, whether they wanted to or not. After all, there were people talking about him on the news every night. The killer had already chosen three victims: Casey Alexander, a sophomore at Brenton Tanner University, Jessica Peters, a Junior at Smithton State, and Ashley Marson, a freshman at Donaview Women’s College.
The authorities believed that the killer was going after college girls with “success stories.” All three of the lost girls were on their way toward making a difference in the world. Of course, what does “lost” really mean anyway? These girls weren’t lost. They were brutally murdered. The killer would shoot the girls in the arm or the leg – some area that would only leave them wounded – not dead. Then he would perform horrible tasks on their bodies after raping them.
Casey was going to be a doctor, Jessica wanted to go into politics, and Ashley was hoping to be a marine biologist. Now they’re all gone.
Isabella was a twenty-year-old college student living in the same area that Casey, the first victim was killed in. The hopeful teacher/novelist watched as her friends avoided going out because they feared that they would be the next victim. Unlike them, Isabella didn’t think she had anything to worry about.
Isabella was sitting in her college algebra class the next night, listening to her teacher ramble on and on.
When will this be over, she thought. I don’t even need math. I’m going to be an English teacher.
Despite the fact that Isabella was released from class a few minutes late, the class did finally (and thankfully) end. Isabella looked at her watch, which said 9:45 p.m. She walked outside and crossed the street to get to her blue Toyota Yaris.
But something wasn’t right.
Isabella walked up to the side of her car and sighed in frustration.
Great, she thought. A flat tire.
As Isabella leaned down to look at her tire more closely, someone quickly came up from behind her and stuck a cloth over her face. Isabella tried to scream but nothing came out.
