In honor of the creepiest month of the year, I offer you a quick flash of fiction. I hope you enjoy!
Francis shuffled down the sidewalk, careful to place his feet in the exact center of each square, avoiding the cracks. Plastic sacks stuffed with envelopes, stationary, and a brand new pen set rustled as he shifted his weight to dodge the water spraying from a broken sprinkler on the neighbor’s lawn. Wasteful, that was.
He made the ninety-degree turn onto his front walkway with his usual precision, taking two extra long strides to skip the cracked stones. The house key slid into the lock without a hitch but he removed it and reinserted three more times, anyway. Once inside, he unloaded his items and lined them up parallel with the edge of the table.
“Gloves, old man,” he murmured. It wouldn’t do to leave skin oils or smudges behind. He’d been writing the love letters for months and this was the most important one of all. It must be perfect.
Hands covered with latex, Francis removed the packaging and took out one blue ink pen and two pieces of rose gold metallic-lined paper. He composed his thoughts as he squeezed his right eye shut twelve times before it felt even with his left.
Taking a calming breath, he started the way he always did, with an endearment.
“My dearest sweetheart,
Tomorrow I’m going to kill you…”