Ficlets

New Study: The Effects of Imminent Death on the Female Adolescent Mind

I never really saw how beautiful the oaks in our neighborhood were. Not until I was trapped in this car driving off to my doom, that is. Boy, being trussed up like a Christmas ham in the back seat of a stalker who’s driving you to who-knows-where really snaps everything into perspective.

Suddenly, I caught a movement in the up front.

“Hello,” my alter-ego mouthed, winking at me from his spot in the rearview mirror.

I squealed through the gag and the stalker glanced back for a second. He frowned at me, as if he were a father reprimanding his daughter and not, in fact, a perverted forty-year-old who has nothing better to do than kidnap innocent girls.

My alter-ego vanished from the mirror. Well, there goes my last hope, I thought.

Suddenly, the steady drone of sirens advanced closer. Yes! Go cops! A cannon-like bang rented the air. At first I thought it was a gun, but then my alter-ego winked at me again, having resumed his spot in the mirror.

“Let the show begin,” he mouthed.

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