Friendly Neighbors.

Many may think this an odd story; and really, it is. The person, involved, in this incident was a woman I once knew in Minnisoda. We both lived in Minneapolis, she was in the apartment across the hall from me, up on the third floor. I was there for collage, but she was perminatly, at least for the moment, living there. It wasn't the nicest of neighborhoods, but it was good enough. We got along well enough, she was quite freindly with me, though I wish I had gotten to know her better because of this all. I was walking up the stairs on a bright, sunny day, nothing unusual, bringing in groceries. Everything was just, normal. When I got to the top of the stairs, my heart jumped into my throat. Splinters of wood littered the floor; a shotgun round had opened the door just fine for the intruder. I dropped my bags, and then I quickly ran into her apartment. There she was, lying on the ground, shreded to ribbons. So as I walked up the stairs outside our apartments, I dropped my grocerie bags and grabbed my shotgun from my apartment and ran to her front door. I shot the door knob, to get it open. I could hear her screams ringing through the apartment as if I was there as I shot her leg and carved her skin, bit by bit, slow and meticulous, with a shiney long kitchen knife. Oh, she was such a nice lady, I wish I could have known her better. I wish whoever did this had not, especialy as my knife drove into her heart and ended the screams. 

Comments • 0

Loading comments...