The Kidnappings – Episode 4

This time I thought of the consequences. If I called the police I would get  arrested for breaking into somebody’s house. I held my hands to my face thinking of what was the right thing to do. I scanned the room to see what else their was. The walls had a couple splattered dots of blood on them. Across the room was a laptop. I ran over to it and rubbed my finger across the bottom pad. Suddenly the laptop flicked on, the blue light against my face looked as if I was telling a story around a campfire. On the screen was a picture of a plant and underneath it was text labelled “Mark”. At the bottom was a space for a password. I had no idea what the password was but I was determined to find out what’s on that laptop. I pulled open the top cabinet of his desk. Inside was some rope and a pack of baby wipes. Probably to clean up some blood with perhaps? I reached down to the next cabinet, whatever was inside was unpredictable. The drawer rolled open smoothly. Inside was a torch and a couple sticky notes. Before reading what they said, I turned around to make sure nobody was in there. The room felt odd and uncomfortable. I whipped straight back around to look at the notes. After reading all the notes it turns out their useless. They’re just shopping lists and receipts and stuff. I picked up the torch to examine the weird designs on it. As I rolled it around with my fingers I saw a label on the bottom of it. The label said “HTAED” Without hesitating quickly popped back up and typed in the letters. For about seven seconds I waited. Then it finally said “Welcome Mark.” I mouthed a victory yes and then turned around just to make sure. I swirled back around, I was into the computer. I instantly clicked on the Pictures document. Their was a picture of the park. Then there were a couple pictures of some kids playing near the forest. I cringed so hard. This is so scary, what have I gotten myself into?  I thought for a good ten seconds. I needed to get out of their before whoever lives there came back. I stood up and ran yo the door. I held my hand around the brass doorknob. I glanced over my shoulder, she was still alive. I thought of maybe taking her with me. I stared at her for a couple seconds before turning back around and running past the living room to the front door. How could I get out of there with her and how could I get her out? I bolted down the hallways. As I ran down the next floor, I saw a suspicious looking couple. They were in their twenty’s and were very tall. The thing that made them look suspicious were that they kept staring at me and that the woman had a red stain on her dress as if some blood had accidentally splattered on her. I didn’t look back though. I ran for my life out the front door and down the street. It was already dark and grim. My sneakers pattered against the cement as I went further. My head span around the thought of being murdered. The street lights  shimmered above me, the footsteps of other crowds around me rang in my ears. All I wanted to do is wake up. I still questioned myself for doing the right thing. I was a couple houses away from my house, that’s when I heard, “Lizzie!” Come from the shadows behind me. I turned around slowly. A short shadow walked forwards until it was directly under a street light. It was Kate. Her face looked as if she herself was about to kill me right then and there. The light that shined on her face turned her big beautiful smile into a very dark and creepy one. I gulped silently. I couldn’t spit out a single word. My legs felt as if I was a baby giraffe learning how to walk and my eyes widened with great fear. “What are you doing out here?” Kate laughed as she took a few more steps forward. “I know you paid the groundskeeper! I know you delivered that package to the kidnappers room! How could you do this?!” I screamed at her. After that she looked as scared as me. “Why are you yelling at me? I thought you were my friend!” Kate shouted back at me. She started to tear up as if I did something horrible. “What are you talking about a kidnapper?” She asked as she tried to wipe away her tears. “You are on to something, you sneaky b***h!” I yelled in her face as I held up my camera with the photos of the room on the screen. Kate looked generally confused and scared. “I paid the groundskeeper money because I was entering the garden contest. I delivered that package to the room because they bought my tiger lamp online. I have no idea why you’re yelling at me!” Screamed Kate. I stood there in confusion. I knew she wouldn’t do anything like kill me. It turned out that she had no idea about the kidnapper. That night we stayed at Kate’s house and talked about the room and the next newspaper. “I understand what you thought.” Said Kate.  I thanked her and gave her a hug. Then my cellphone rang. It was an unknown number but it could have been my grandma that was supposed to call me tonight. I picked it up. “I know what you saw, if you say anything, I will slit you and your friend’s throat.” Whispered a mans voice from the phone before it hung up.

 

Authors Note:

Thanks to everybody who enjoys the series. Ps, if you don’t like my stories then don’t read them. If I was able to comment back, I would. And as always, leave dome ideas below and tell me if you believe Kate’s story.

  • Simon

    Well, the usual batch of problems is still here (bad pacing, protagonist with the brain capacity of a potato, badly written text in general, etc), but what bothers me the most is that final message about how people shouldn’t read the story if they don’t enjoy it… You’re referring to me specifically, aren’t you?

    Where everyone else tells you how good your story is and shares their theories, I(to my concern atleast) am the only one that’s actually trying to point out flaws and give critique. And is this what I get for doing that? A request to not read your stories? Honestly, that’s not even suprising by this point. It’s not the first time I’ve been labeled as a hater for actively going out of my way to read through people here’s stories and to point out any mistakes they might be doing. Just yesterday I had an arguement with some 13-year-old kid over his pasta. In fact, he wasn’t even sure whether or not my first comment was a compliment or a criticism, but he sure launched into attack when I explained him what I meant.

    Thing is, if we “critics” stop reading your stories, who’s left? Well, the type of people who don’t have something bad to say about the story. The type of people that kept praising the Stiches series and didn’t question anything that didn’t make sence (so, about 85% of the whole thing). The type of people that gave Jeff The Killer VS Ari Asylum(literally one of the worst things I’ve ever read) a score of about 4 out of 5. The type of people that made Jeff The Killer a thing in the first place.
    You sure you want these people around? How are their meaningless sugarcoated comments and their 5/5 stars gonna actually help you improve and become better at writing? How would you know what you’re doing wrong, when the worst thing they could tell you is “It had a couple of grammar mistakes.”. You wouldn’t, that’s how.

    I’m just trying to help you people, I really am. But you’re not making it easy for me. Could you please just so me a favour? Just this once? Maybe consider the fact that the hater hatin’ on your story might actually have a point. That your story is indeed the sort of crap that would make Stephen King roll in the grave he would dig up and jump into if he had to read it. If you’re not gonna do it for me, do it for yourselves. It’s really not that hard, I kinda even do it all the time, for every action I do. Just this once, ok? For your sake.

  • Ray Ramirez

    This series is seriously awesome, pay no mind to those who have bad comments. There’s a difference between criticizing and being plain hateful. I personally love this, looking forward to the next part.