30 in 30: Day Five: After Dark/It Starts with a Ransom Note

Aleathia says: 

Please enjoy another one-page story. This one turned out a little different than I had planned in my mind. I was going to attempt something funny, however, sad pushed its way through. Please feel free to share if you like or follow the blog. Have the best day.


Photo: After Dark:

The  Story: It Starts With A Ransom Note:

The Note

dEliVeR 50,000 In unMarKeD BillS

tO ThE corNer oF 17th anD CrUz

By MidNiGht ToMorRow or The GirL

gEts it---GoOd!

Sarah held the ransom note in her hand as if it were covered in Anthrax. She’d had a strange feeling that morning as if the universe were “off”. She’d had these intuitions her whole life and though one might find them useful, they weren’t unless they contained specific information. It all seemed a little woo-woo to her, so she never mentioned them to anyone. Sarah kept an eye out for clues the entire day, but nothing presented itself until her daughter Melinda didn’t come come from school.

Melinda was in the 3rd grade and precocious. The school assured Sarah that her daughter was placed on the bus home at 3 p.m. Sarah didn’t meet her child at the bus stop three blocks away because Melinda had insisted she was a “big girl” now and could manage the small stroll alone. Sarah had to admit that she was a clinging sort of mother and sometimes she held too tightly, but she only had one child and she meant to keep her safe. She felt very lacking in this department currently.

The note, yes, she thought, where the hell am I getting $50,000?

Standing on the porch in the dusk of coming night, Sarah dialed the police to report Melinda’s kidnapping. The sunset reflected onto her skin, the air crisp. Her arms heavy at her sides with one hand gripping the phone, the other, the note. Her body shook as she cried silently. The feeling in her gut now, the intuition, was telling her this would not turn out well. The regrets piled on top of her head. Did she tell Melinda she loved her? She couldn’t remember. Tears rolled down her cheeks, the fading sun glinting in the salted water, showing her heartache. The note slipped from between her fingers floating to the dirty porch floor. Sirens blared in the distance coming closer.

“Melinda”, she whispered, “come home.”