There are 30 people whose breaths were taken away, including mine.
"That's all for today. Let's get together on Saturday for our next telling," says Ms. Walker, our new Writer's Club administrator.
All 30 of us students sit there, paralyzed by the story and she laughs. "Hello? Go to your dorms! It's 7:30 pm and you were the ones who wanted to requested for 7:00 pm wrap up at the beginning!"
Hearing that, we got up at once. The crowd vanished out of the library hall one by one and I was left alone with Ms. Walker.
I walked up to her and said, "Hello, Ms. Walker, just wanted to say that it was an amazing narration that you did there..."
She turned towards me as she packed her backpack, "Thank you..?"
"James, James Cohen," I say.
"Thanks, James," says the youngest teaching staff on Harvard campus. She can't be more than 24.
"Your welcome. And hey, just curious... why did they all die?" I ask, trying to be nonchalant, though I'm dying to know.
"Huh, sugar coating your need for answers, huh? Very smart!" She says, playfully.
Wow, I have like no chances here.
I just smile and turn to walk away but she says, "Since you were such a gentleman and complimented me, I'll let you in on some spoilers. I'm not supposed to reveal anything, but I'll do it, for you."
I smile and urge her for answers.
"Okay okay! Out of the four who died, probably two of them were Rae's parents who didn't want Rae. Probably one of them was planning on kidnapping Rae..." she says.
Okay, so that counts off the woman and the two cops.
"What about Thomas?" I ask.
"Probably he was not true to Mia... Remember they had fallen out of love... So anything could've happened..." she says.
"And who killed them?"
"Probably the child, or Mia herself, or something else in the house..." she says.
"Dang it! Can't you say something clearly?" I say, frustrated.
"That's me!" she says and takes her bag in her arms.
"One last thing," she says, catching all my attention, "that is not just your average imaginary story. It has happened before. But you can't Google it,'coz there is no record of it happening."
This is unexpected. This is a real story?
How can there be no records?
"You're kidding," I say.
"I swear, I'm not."
"Then how do you know this all happened if there's no record?"
She just smirks and says, "I don't have any time now. Call me later tonight if you want answers." She gives me her card and walks away.
I watch as she walks out of the hall, her high heels prodding and the sound fading into the horizon.
I look at the card she gave me.
Anna Rae Walker
YOU ARE READING
Cries | ✔Horror
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