Ficlets

Home Invasion

In the next fifteen seconds, Leslie stopped dead.

The gramophone scratched back away to the original song.

And a man leaped out of the dark hallway to the left. Leslie shrieked and jumped back, but the man tackled her and cupped his gloved hand over her, words streaming through like death through the burlap he wore over his head.

“Leslie Nielson, you will come with me,” he growled.

She whimpered and bit and struck at him, but he soon had her even more pinned to the carpet. More burlap-masked men slunk out of the shadows and hopped through windows, tossing thin ropes of leather over her. Leslie rolled back and forth, though, and finally broke free of her captor’s arms. She jumped through a window and ran off.

The rest of the men followed.

And as the nightmarish figures leaped out to pursue the woman through the inky blackness of the midnight air, the gramophone continued on in its paradoxical period piece.

It had happened in all of three minutes.

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