Reading Time: 3 minutesFour people had seen the box, what if one ever managed to get out. Let alone get away. Ralph, the owner of the box didn’t care for such thoughts of escapees. He had a plan to retrieve any poor young girl who’d managed to get out. The outer perimeter he’d dreamed up would stop her. The notebook held all of these options.
This was one of the ideas Ralph had mapped out in his notebook. He had many more and Betty was sneaking a peek while Ralph was in the shower. She didn’t know that Ralph was a writer, although she had a suspicion that this wasn’t really fiction he was writing. This bloke was one of the weirdest clients she had. She was warned, but the money was too good to pass up.
Ralph had an old leather-bound daily planner that he continually filled with torture and murderous scenarios. He would figure out when and how he could act on the latest of these scenarios. In the notebook, he’d taken inspiration from the Gloryville Murders.
Betty had flipped through some pages
She seemed to remember a few of the methods outlined within. She watched a lot of cable news and she’d also seen many a news documentary on the crime channel. The similarity of these local crimes and the scribblings in this book were all too real.
“Do you like the plot lines Betty ?”
“Is that what they are ?” … she replied with some bravado, hiding the fact she was scared shitless. She’d moved herself closer to the only door in the hotel room. The notebook she left on the desk.
“Yeah … I write screenplays and short stories and these are just some ideas and notes for story lines.”
Ralph had noticed Betty’s maneuvering and realised that he’d better act fast. He couldn’t get to the door first, but he could run pretty damn fast and he’d a chance to catch her before she got to the lift.
“So who do you write for?”
“Freelance mostly”
“I sell to whoever picks up the stories through my agent, some for films, books and sometimes television.”
Ralph was thinking on his feet. He’d have to calm the situation before it became a chase and grab. Such a public force down was not the best thing to do in a hotel corridor full of cameras. How in hell did he leave the note book in such a public spot for a simple hooker to read. Shit, he’d put everything at risk.
He hadn’t even had the pleasure of her company yet and she’d already screwed him good and proper. He realised that the money might entice her away from her path to the door, simply hooker reflex fishing, throw the bait and hook the hooker. He’d done it before.
“Oh thanks Ralph, it’ll be $400 for the hour.” She’d been enticed alright. Ralph grabbed her arm as she reached for the cash, with a well rehearsed assurance.
She didn’t move or struggle
He was too quick. The knife cut through her neck like a scythe through hay and she sprayed blood all over Ralph, the room and the cash. Her demise was quick. What the hell was he going to do. The hotel room and the cash was covered in his prints. His real name was on the hotel register. After all he wasn’t going to be doing anything other than having fun with this lovely young thing. Why did he leave the book out on the table.
Ok he thought, quick, what to do … He slashed the knife blade over his right hand and forearm and then drove the blade into his stomach. Just deep enough to get the blood going good and proper. It had to look real. He hid the note book and then grabbed the phone, ringing reception.
“Hello, help, a mad bitch has just attacked me and I’ve stabbed her. Yes, quick, call the Police and the Ambulance, I’ve been stabbed, hurry”
The poor young girl
The young girl at reception knew of Ralph’s visitor, as she had organised her for him. She couldn’t figure out why her sister would stab Ralph, he was a bit of a weird fucker, but he paid well. That’s why she sent her up there. She knew that Betty was pretty switched on about these things, but this didn’t seem right at all. Betty’s sister called “000” and then called their mum.
Their Mum was there in minutes and just before the emergency crew. She raced straight up to the room and battered Ralph’s head inside and out with a heavy metal lampshade. She didn’t care what had happened, only what she had to make happen. It would be a complicated outcome. The Police arrived and found a very confusing scene. It wasn’t one that Ralph had proposed in his notebook at all.
An increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024
