by Joelyn Alexandra
There it was again. That same screech resonating between her ears as she opened her eyes, head weighing a ton. Upright on her bed, her hands cradled her face, letting out a sigh as it dragged against her fingers.
Hauling herself from her comforts, her monochrome vision reminded her of the screech replaying every night.
Piercing through, her shower barely quietened the screams, until her phone rang, drowning out the screeches as she wasted no time picking up.
“Build me a willow cabin at your gate,” a voice sounded through the phone. Her eyes snapped open and widened. She spoke automatically.
“Corby Jones was dumped in the Indian Ocean, off the coast of Sri Lanka.”
“Good,” the voice smiled, “But oh, you shall pity me.”
Her eyes relaxed, her hand hanging up. Turning, however, she noticed the blood-stained shirt on her counter.
The screaming started again.
Scribbled this up while listening to “Some Nights” by Fun, inspired by a certain episode of “Alias”. So it was pretty much writing one line, then adjourning to do the “Backward March”.
Hope you’ve enjoyed the story, nonetheless!