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FictionMystery
Home›Fiction›Sally: Part Five

Sally: Part Five

By Brooke_Smith93
November 23, 2020
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photo courtesy by Gerd Altmann on pixbay.com
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“Ah, do you just love the sound of bones crushing?”

“I was finally enjoying this town,” Mr. Irwin fussed as he dug his hand saw into Sally’s right leg. “Why do you have to keep ruining my life?!”

“Don’t blame me,” the voice screamed. “You have chosen this path before I ever came along! You should be grateful for what I have done to help you!” 

“Fuck you! You have done nothing but cause more trouble,” Mr. Irwin replied as he slammed the saw down. “Leave me alone!”  

“You know you can’t live with me. Good luck, Loser!”

Mr. Irwin groaned and began cutting Sally’s other leg. Goosebumps popped on his arms as he noticed a change in temperature. 

“Uh?” He scratched his head when he noticed the temperature on the thermostat hasn’t changed.

When he turned, he froze like a statue. Sally’s shadow glided along the walls like a projected nightlight figure. 

“I’m not like Morgan. I am not afraid to expose the monster in you!” Sally cried.

***

“Everything will be out by Monday,” Mr. Irwin said. “I will bring the keys by then.”

“I thought you were going to stay for a while since the store was thriving….” Ms. Nolin replied.   

“Yeah. Other opportunities… better ones… have come up, though.” He guided her to the front door.

He froze when he noticed beach sand was covering each window of Ms. Nolin’s car. Sally wrote the word MURDER in each.

“Oh! I almost forgot! I have a gift for you in the back,” Mr. Irwin said as he quickly turned Ms. Nolin around. “Let’s go get it.”

“How thoughtful!” 

Mr. Irwin’s heart was a racing rabbit. 

“Think, Think!”

He spotted a box of fragile items on the counter and exhaled. 

“I think it is over there…” he said.

He tripped over a box on the floor and crashed into the other box, head first.

“Oh, no!” Ms. Nolin gasped. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, but your present is not.”

Mr. Irwin chuckled as he got up.

“Don’t mind that. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. Lemme get the broom,” he answered “It is in the front. Be careful.”

“Okay.”

He swung the door open hard enough so it could slam back. He rushed outside once it shut.  He wiped away the mud as fast as he could. 

“Hehe,” Sally snickered. “Oops.”

***

It was not long before the frequency of Emilee’s heartbeats matched the frequency of thunderclaps. She couldn’t stop pacing around the living room. The lights kept flickering, and Sally appeared within every flicker.

“Babe, come sit down. Everything will be fine,” Jeremiah said. “You need to relax.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” 

“Just trying to help.” Jeremiah frowned as he got up from the couch. “I’m going to check the storm tracker on my Mac.”

Emilee crossed her arms and looked outside. Sally was looking up from the corner of the cafe. Emilee put her head in her hands and screamed. 

Why can’t she just leave me alone?!

She slapped her forehead as an idea popped up in her mind. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed a number.

“Hey, Aunt Phoebe. Yes. We are,”  Emilee said. “We already got supplies and everything. How are you?”

“I’m quite alright,” Aunt Phoebe replied. “Your aura definitely feels off. Besides this storm, what is bothering you, my child?”

Emilee rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.

“A little girl is haunting me and she won’t stop,” she answered. “Is there a spell or something to get rid of her?” 

“Has the spirit told you why she is trying to contact you personally?”

“Yeah, but she can contact somebody else for help,”  Emilee said. “I have no time… Maybe you can handle it.”

“There is a reason she picked you,” Aunt Phoebe replied. “I can’t help even if I want to. It’s up to you to finish her unfinished business.”

“I don’t want to. I just want her gone. I want my life back.”

Emilee ended the call and looked out. The windows of the cafe shook as Sally twirled faster and faster.

“No!”

***

A week after the storm…

“Give it to me straight,” Investigator Madsen said as she walked into the lab. “Is it who we think it is?” 

“It is a hundred percent a match,” Berber answered. “I just finished the rest of the report.” 

Madsen’s face hardened as sorrow rushed through her.

“Besides the gunshot wound in the back of the skull,” she asked, “are there any additional findings?”  

“Barely. Any evidence of poisoning or sexual abuse has disappeared with the rest of her body,” Berber said. “Although, we found traces of nitrous oxide and chloroform in the blood of the rats.” 

“Of course. That is a recipe for rape. Please tell me you found the bastard’s DNA.”

“Unfortunately, we are still having no luck,” Berber frowned. “Has anybody found her clothes yet?”  

“Our luck is the same as yours,” Madsen replied. “We gotta get this bastard before he kills again.”

***

A day later…

“You have to call Madsen! It’s the only way!”

“She will think I’m a psycho or an accomplice!” Emilee replied. “It has to be another way….”

Sally put her head in her ghostly hands, then popped up when she got an idea.

“My journal I kept in my secret hideaway. It has everything. Find it and send it in.”

“Alright. Where is this secret hideaway at?” Emilee exhaled.

“It is an old abandoned tiki bar on the beach,” Sally replied.  “Across the Blind Snake Tattoos.”

“Are you sure the journal is there?” Emilee asked. “If I do this, you will leave me alone?”

“Yes. Please go.”

“Fine. I need to get out, anyway.”

Sally smiled in response and disappeared. After making a couple of stops, Emilee arrived at Sally’s secret spot. Her heart dropped as she noticed the structure of the tiki bar was in pieces.

“Shit.”

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Brooke_Smith93

Brooke Settoon Smith is from Louisiana. She graduated from Southeastern Louisiana University with a bachelor's degree in English with a concentration in Creative Writing and a minor in History. She has a blog called Creative Works by Brooke Settoon Smith, which presents her most recent short stories and poems. She is recently an author on the mobile app called Texties. She is a contributing writer for The Mighty and Unwritten. She has also created a blog called Rolling Through Life by Brooke Smith, which presents her perspective on being born with Cerebral Palsy.

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Latest Comments

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    Thank you very much for reading my poem here on CHW magazine. It was a fortuitous ...

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  • Ivor Steven
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    Thank you for reading my poem here at CHW; I appreciate your thoughtful comments, EugiI

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    Ivor, the photo is perfectly paired with this poem, both reflecting the uncertainties of this era.

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    Beautiful said, and excellent rhyming, Ivor. Where do we land where there is peace and light?

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    Beautiful, Ivor!

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