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  Kenneth Lawson
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October 31st, 2021

10/31/2021

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​The attic room sat empty except for the newspaper—today’s newspaper. Picking up the dust-laden newspaper, he found that he had read it right. It was indeed today’s date. 

Not only was it today’s newspaper, but it was also the evening edition. A paper that wouldn’t come out until several hours from now. An experienced news reporter, he knew the rigors involved in putting out two papers daily. The final deadline for the afternoon paper was two hours away.

He was acting on a tip that a vital witness was ready to talk to the press and tell their side of the story. His instructions were to meet them in the arctic room of the rooming house on the wrong side of town. But no one was there, only layers of dust upon layers of dust—nothing except the newspaper.

 Shutting the door behind him, Sam Small headed for the front desk. The clerk who had been sleeping when he came in was still dead to the world. Sam leaned against the counter and hit the small bell sitting near the sign-in book. It chimed twice. No movement.

Ignoring the old man sleeping, he turned the sign-in book around so he could read it. He scanned the names, and one name jumped out at him. Shit! Glancing at his watch, he realized he still had time to get there. 

Traffic heading into Dealey Plaza was tied up, but as a lifelong resident of Dallas, he knew an alternate route into the area. He parked off the Plaza, used an offside entrance to the book depository, and ran up the stairs. 

 He could feel his heart racing and his pulse quicken as he hit the seventh-floor landing. His breathing became labored as he panted heavily, pausing at the top of the landing to catch his breath. Leaning against the doorframe, he checked his watch. 12: 27.

The roar of the crowd outside told him he was early but was he in time? It seemed like forever as he found his way through the maze of boxes and other warehouse stuff scattered on the floor. Finally, he made it to the northeast corner of the Texas School Book Depository. In the shadows of the boxes was a figure kneeling and looking out the open window.

“NOOOO!” Sam shouted, and Lee Harvey Oswald turned and fired at him. 

As Sam Small’s world turned black, the President’s motorcade went through Dealey Plaza to the roar of the crowds.

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October 17th, 2021

10/17/2021

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Disclaimer: Suggestion of rape and violence.

Time was ticking, and Miranda had to cross the bay before it was too late.
She’d finally found a means to get to the island. There certainly wasn’t anything unusual about a witch on a paddleboard. Good thing she was focused enough to cast an ignore spell, so no one noticed her. 

It was dusk, and the party was underway. Lewis and his friends didn’t realize the guest of honor was running late. The fact that they hadn’t invited her didn’t matter. She had business to finish.

Memories flooded her head. At eighteen, she had not gotten her full powers, and she couldn’t defend herself. She had her full powers now, and they would pay for what they did. She reached the shore as sound sounds of laughter and music carried through the woods. She followed the glow from the campfire to find them and stood in the shadows so they couldn’t see her. As she watched them, her anger roiled. 

Lewis sat on a camp chair, holding a beer bottle in one hand as he stirred the fire with a long stick. Hot embers cast an eerie glow, throwing soft shadows across the small clearing where he and his friends had camped. The other three men sat around the fire. Empty beer bottles littered the ground and the smell of weed pushed through the scent of burning wood. Lewis faced away from her. She stepped from behind the trees. 

“Hello, Lewis.” She spoke quietly, keeping her wand hidden underneath her cloak. 

Lewis jumped and turned to look behind him. He wavered as he tried to stand. No doubt, he consumed many of the beer bottles strewn across the ground. 

She stayed where she was, wand hidden underneath her cloak.

“You…?” He stammered and took a step backward. 

“I told you’d come back.”

“But you’re dead.”

Miranda withdrew her wand from her cloak. “You’re going to wish you’d finished the job.” 

Lewis laughed. “What are you going to do, Zap me?” he taunted. 

She flicked her wrist, and Lewis screamed in pain. His three buddies tried to stand, but another flick of her wrist immobilized them. 

 “I trusted you and told you I was a witch and that I wouldn’t acquire my full powers until I turned twenty-one. You thought you could taunt me, use me as a plaything and toss me in the bay since I couldn’t fight back. Well, I am twenty-one now, and you’re my playthings.”

Miranda flicked her wand slightly, and the fire blazed toward the sky. The heat from the flames made them sweat. But they couldn’t move. She flipped her cloak back, the scars left from the night they beat her. 

Lewis tried to take a step toward her, but he was unable to move. “We were drunk. We thought you were lying about being a witch— just a kook. We didn’t mean to hurt you, but we thought you were dead. So, we threw you in the bay.”

“Too late.”

The next day, the sheriff found four bodies at the campsite, all with looks of sheer terror on their faces.

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October 10th, 2021

10/10/2021

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I stood before the resting place of Vodou priestess Marie Laveau with a secret—I knew how to summon her to life. Visions of her past lives flashed before my mind’s eyes. The memories of fire and chanting sent chills down my spine. She had been a god among her people. Though many tried to kill her, she survived her enemies, each time executing horrible revenge on those who thought they could end her life.

The one thing that she hadn’t counted on was a broken heart. When the Lord of the Temple rejected her in favor of a younger, prettier Priestess, Marie withered, her powers weakened. As her influence diminished, her followers abandoned her, and she died in the night alone in her temple. 

The new priestess’s reign of terror began. No one was safe from her influence and depravity. People feared leaving their homes because her power was so strong that being near her bent them to her wishers. But no one was powerful enough to stop her. 

Except for Marie Laveau. 

 But, if summoned back to life, would she? There was only one way to find out.

There was a secret incantation that only I knew, handed down through my order, the Watchers. The enchantment was risky, but I had to try. 

I stood before Marie’s tomb and recited the chant. The clouds moved to block out the sun, and daylight vanished. The cemetery became dark, and the breeze intensified. The ground shook, and my legs trembled as the door on Marie’s tomb began to move. Slowly at first, as the years of neglect began to give way, 

 I gasped as Marie stood before me. Her eyes were ablaze with life as she stepped from the tomb. 

“Why have you awakened me from my sleep?” 

Her voice resonated, and I nearly lost my resolve. I, too, feared her, even now. 

“Priestess, I humbly come to ask for your help ….”
“You dare challenge me?” 

I turned to find the Lord of the Temple, and his High Priestess strode toward us. 

I summoned what courage I had left. “You have brought despair and grief upon the land, destroying the innocent who live in fear.” 

Marie stood beside me. “You abused the powers the gods gave you?” 

The High Priest said nothing. Marie took that as a yes.

Marie raised her arms above her head. “I call upon the Gods to smite these two and to restore the land to its rightful leader.”

The black clouds parted, revealing the brilliant sun as a streak of light descended from the heavens. The Lord and his prestress tried to run, but it engulfed them, and they disappeared into a puff of smoke.

Marie turned to me as the sky returned to a crystal blue.

“Until the sun no longer shines, you are the New High Priest and ruler of this land. The power is yours.” I shivered as a surge of electricity flowed through my body. 

She returned to her tomb, and the door slowly closed behind her. 

My gaze fell on the two piles of ashes on the sidewalk. Evil would reign no more.

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October 03rd, 2021

10/3/2021

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​The morning Samantha’s red bike appeared, ten years after she vanished, changed everything. The last time he’d seen the bike, she was planning to visit the campus library. She never arrived.

He walked down the steps and stared at the red bike leaning against the wrought iron fence. The sight of her bike bought back a flood of memories but also raised new questions—frightening questions.

Sam was his wife. They were still in college and living in his parents’ brownstone when she disappeared. The police suspected he had something to do with her disappearance but released him after hours of questioning checking his alibi.

It had taken him years to get past her disappearance, and in many ways, he never did. When his parents died, he could have sold the house, but he felt connected as if he couldn’t leave. Years later, as people continued to wonder what happened to Samantha, he chose not to discuss it. She was gone.

 He debated what to do. The bike was hers. He recognized the bike chain covered in pink fabric and the scratch on the fender, which happened when she took a turn too fast and fell. He needed to think about what his next move was. Until he decided, he rolled the bike to the backyard, hiding it in the shed where he stored junk.

As he backed out of the drive, heading to work, fear crept over him. He never expected to see the bike again. It wasn’t possible, but it was back, and a cold shiver crept over him. The bike had returned.

~~~

That night as he lay in bed, unable to sleep, images of Samantha as he last saw her swirled in his memories. Trying to fight the fear, he froze when he heard a noise outside the bedroom window. He rose slowly and walked to the window pulling back the drapes. He stifled a scream and nearly passed out as he saw who was staring back at him—Samantha, wearing the same yellow cotton dress she wore that day, the bike beside her.

Sam smiled and motioned for him to come to her. His legs were wooden, he tried to resist, but she was drawing him to her. The air was cool, and he shivered as he stood in front of her.

“Raymond, I’m home,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. “I was hoping you were still here. But then you couldn’t leave the scene of the crime, could you?

“How are you here?”

“Ahh—that is the question, isn’t it? How could I be here? I’m dead. It took me a while to find my way back, but I did. And now, you are going to pay for killing me.”

“Samantha, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

“No, it wasn’t. You were jealous. You thought I was cheating on you. I wasn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me. You were.”

Her beautiful face became skeletal, and as her bony mouth opened, Raymond screamed.

An early morning jogger found Raymond’s body on the sidewalk at the foot of the steps. The bike was gone.

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    Picture


    500 Words
      The idea is to write a short story  about 500 max short based on a picture and an opening line.  
    ​From there one can go ANYWHERE..
    ​
    Please note: the images used are free-use images and do not require attribution.

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