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PROMPT: 'One day your main character is walking and is handed a sketch by a stranger. The next day, a woman is found dead in a nearby river. She matches the sketch.'

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╰┈➤ The following story is written by Kersy

   The railway pass was just as occupied and there was no way I'd be able to get to the bathroom on time, I could almost feel my bladder pumping. The woman by my right kept on stepping on my leg with her six-inches heel and I swear each time, she felt my bone crack.

The other guy by my left was "whispering" sweet nonsense to his "sweetheart". I had tried to warn him but the nerve of him to call me jealous. The actual nerve!

Jealous of what exactly?.

At the next stop, I couldn't take the shit anymore. I pocketed my palms and made my way out of that train. I didn't even get to use the bathroom.

I sighed, walking the dull streets of the town. There were no lights on in the sweet shops. The cafés were pretty bland and the road only had a few cars running momentarily along the road. Yup, my lovely hometown.

My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. It was an unknown number, but it looked quite familiar. I was confused.

When I picked it up, a buzz had come through, and then I was cut off.

What the..

A notification suddenly popped in, a message.

It read; Go back to the train station.

"What?"

Was I being spied on?.

I glanced around me, but the town was the same as it had always been, eerie and quiet.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I turned back towards the train station.

As I came down the stairs, the heavy stench of sweat filled my nose and it was very nauseating.

I lowered my face to prevent the incoming smell as I made my way to the little high stand on the other end of the station.

Maybe it was the hood or just a play of my mind, but with my lowered sight, I saw another person, amidst the crowd moving in my direction.

Somehow, my sight was fixated on that one person.

The way the person walked, and more importantly the cloth it had put on.

The heavy cardigan was ripped and torn with patches and thatches all round it. The arm had sizzled holes and an unweaved wrist band. The cardigan—

I was hit hard in my rib by a grumpy hunk. No way was he getting away from that without apologizing.

I grabbed him by the shoulder when I felt a rough surface touch my second palm. The hunk turned towards me as I gave him my hardest glare. He cocked up an eyebrow.

"Apologize!"

The corners of his lips twitched for a moment, then he brushed off my hand from his shoulder and turned to walk away.

That boneh— I was hit harshly by my shoulder this time, and I knew that was my cue to leave the station. It was always so rough.

I climbed up the stairs, and out into the open clean air of the town, without the smell of greasy sweat. Something struck my palm. It was a paper, a paper with a rough surface ingrained. The palm that was invaded when I faced the hunk.

I stretched open the sheet, wiping away the ruffles as best as I could.

In it was a picture, perfectly drawn in black and white. It was quite gory.

A woman with a knife cut deep on the left side of her neck. The cut seemed very deep as her head was leaned over to the right very lowly to the side.

Blood pooled the gravel around her with her eyes wide in supposed fear.

Although only drawn in black and white, her dark tinted hair and thin eyes expertly pronounced looked quite familiar.

Dusk rolled in quickly and I turned towards the towering mansion on the right. The house of the richest man in town, my father.

I clutched the paper in my tattered cardigan and made my way into the building where the silence welcomed me.

We had no permanent workers, only cleanup maids that came twice in a week.

My steps echoed through the hall, and I looked around for him.

"Dad?"

It was still quiet. I sighed.

Great. He's gone too.

I made my way to the kitchen, the gore picture still evident in my mind. The kitchen was as dull as could be, had always been. As I dove into the refrigerator, my phone rang out with an annoying ringtone. And there was only one person I used that ring tone for. I picked it up, and placed it between my shoulder and my ear as I grabbed some milk.

"Hello mum,"

"Honey, you didn't make it? I don't see you here."

"Yeah well, I wanted to come but changed my mind last minute. I wasn't ready for such stress."

"But honey I haven't seen you in a long time,"

"And that's my fault?"

I poured out the cocoa powder and put it in the hot water on the stove.

She sighed.

"You don't understand any of this."

"Then make me understand."

My attempt to pull out the bread hung as I waited for her reply this time.

"It's not so easy—"

Of course she'll say that. I took my bread.

"Easy you say?, What isn't mum? It's been four years since you left and everytime I ask why, you tell me the same thing. ~It is not easy~ Well it isn't easy here mum. I'm always home alone, Dad is rarely home, I'm sick of this."

"Soon honey, I'll come and get you soon."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I want us to be complete like we once were."

I closed the sandwich maker shut just way too harshly but then began to feel remorseful.

My dinner shouldn't be at the receiving end of my anger, she should.

"Goodbye honey~"

She sang out to the phone and cut it off.

I threw my phone onto the counter in a rage. She never listened. Why was I always in the middle of their fights?,.

After I finished up the chocolate milk, I put it in the freezer, and went upstairs to take a shower. I took off my tattered hoodie and threw it into the bin, furious.

I'd destroyed my favorite cardigan and tore several times for I'd look less well taken care of and captured her attention, but I didn't even make it to her station. How useful.

But as I threw the cardigan away, I picked it up again. I'd not realized it sooner, but the cuts, the patches, the failed signature design on its shoulder looked exactly the same.....

.... exactly the same as the strange person at the station. The person who'd stuffed the paper in my hand.

_____

My hands quivered and my heart caught up in my throat as I stared at the headline that stared back at me.

No..

It...it can't be...

I held my chest for moments, trying to calm it down with deep breaths.

The picture staring back from the headline was just the same as the picture in the crumpled paper.

I took a quick picture and ran to the bin by the door. I tossed out all the other garbage till I saw it, the balled up paper. My hands shook as it moved closer, fear gripped my whole being, anxiety rolling in.

As I'd unruffled the paper, the truth was before me. The pictures were identical, gory and crestfallen.

My breath came out shaky, as I rummaged through my thoughts.

Why me...

I just sat there and stared for minutes. Miss Linda, that sweet librarian was gone. Killed in a most gruesome way. But who would do such a thing? She was so sweet and old.

This town had never been catchy or deathly. It was peaceful, it was calm, it was quiet. What happened?.

I rocked on my bottom as I squeezed my knees. My heart furiously pumped in my chest.

I stared between both pictures, they both looked identical. Only one was a software copy and the other, hardware.

However, I seemed to have skipped some details.

The picture had a faint note at its very edge, a cryptic message, a single word.

Sewer.

Sewer....

It rang in my head.

I headed for my closet to pick a clear assortment of clothes and clear my head in the process.

The person had personally informed me before the incident, and that meant one thing. Whatever the situation, I was a major key in the problem.

Albeit the fear that filled me, I was inquisitive and curious. Whether or not I'd find an answer was uncertain but surely I would get a bit of understanding right?..

–

I cursed within for not bringing a much warmer outfit despite my dress up. The chills hooked my skin and sunk in very quickly and my teeth gritted hardly.

As I neared the closest sewer gate, I halted and double thought.

Was this actually the right thing to do?

Should I not have just left this all to the police and stayed in the comfort of my bed?

Would I even survive this? I mean it was a possible killer that I was going to meet, I could be killed in there. I turned away.

No thanks, I'm not ready to die...

I gave myself a quick slap that I instantly regretted. For Miss Linda!

I had already made it here, what good would it make to turn back last minute?.

The good it made from the train station! The good of my sweet safe bed!.

I shook away the doubtful and fearful thoughts and strengthened my resolve. I slipped into the sewer. It reeked so badly I almost choked on air.

Thank goodness for the riches I enjoyed, to clear my mind from all this shit. Literally.

Rats squeaked from every corner and shadows illuminated from the moon's ray haunted the ominous dunk. I darted forward away from the dreadful creatures till I heard them no more.

I heaved and heaved, breathing and croaking with both my hands on my knees.

The silence was all I heard. Nothing. There was not a single ray of light and from the darkness, I seemed to make out wriggling figures and glimmering eyes eyeing me from every corner.

I fumbled with my pockets and dug out my phone.

Thank goodness I loved this thing so much.

The bright light quickly dissipated the dark figures and eyes that hopefully was a figment of my imaginative emotion.

From where I stood, there were four other passways. Two on both sides in my front, and two by my sides.

Am I lost.....in the sewer?!

I gulped and yelped when I heard water splashes from the left pathway. That was my cue. I turned right and began to move fast, even though I had no idea where I was going, I wasn't going to die from smelling shit a day.

My head pounded as I saw yet another passage junction and four passageways again. I was going in circles. I crouched down to cry. Why did I even come here in the first place?!

As I sniffled and wiped my tears softly, I heard it again, the water splashes. I turned my flashlight towards the left and I saw the water surface ripple.

I stood up slowly as I flashed the light even closer.

"Hello?"

I heard a snap. A snap?

I inched a bit closer, taking three steps forward as I called out again.

Still there was no reply. I stepped closer again, suddenly I saw glimmering yellow eyes, the same eyes I saw in the darkness. Afterwards, another structure came out afront it, it has two holes. It looked like a nose.

An eyes and a nose, is that a...no it's not possi-

It began to swim towards me swiftly.

Crocodile!

I turned to run as fast as my tired legs could go, but then I stopped. Before me another one emerged onto the sidewalk and it quickly became a problem, a big one.

There was one behind me and one in-front of me.

As they inched closer and closer to me with heavy steps, I heard a soft croak by my side, I shivered. I was not ready to be reptilian food, I was way too young and talented. And Miss Linda...

The three crocodiles surrounded me and I was backed to the wall. My back hit the cold flat wall but instead it poked me. I turned back to see iron bars that led up to a circular opening on the top ceiling of the sewer shut by an iron lid. It led to the town road!.

This shouldn't be so hard, I've seen it in movies.

I climbed on the bars as quickly as I could, missing the wide mouth of a crocodile by a millimeter. I climbed very quickly, as surprised by my sudden agility. I banged and pushed the lid with all the strength I could make up, while practically hanging upside down on an iron bar stair. The lid refused to budge. I took a round stare at the lid and my legs buckled up, threatening to give way. I was held shit by a giant padlock. Damn!

I clung onto the thin iron with my life on the line. The crocodiles retreated to the stream of sewer and I thought they'd quit but I was very wrong.

They began to jump and unfortunately for me, I was situated just above their position.

The more they jumped, the closer they'd gotten.

I screamed at the top of my lungs. Never again will I follow my instincts, dying was certainly not on my bucket list.

Another crocodile jumped and it almost bit my butt.

The tears streamed down my face as I contemplated my death. Death by severing was surely too harsh for me, I just wanted to help.

A shot rang out and my breath caught up in my throat.

Another followed, and then another, and another finalizing to six. They were gunshots.

I held my breath as I flashed the light towards the source of the shots and there it was, the hooded figure at the front passage.

It pointed the gun at me allowing me to see a loose opening or tear at its neck and a piece of a necklace peaked out.

It lowered the gun and turned to go.

What? Was it leaving me here?

"Hey wait." I shouted as I climbed down the iron stairs and topped the dead crocodiles to cross to the other side. I began to run towards the now running figure pushing to go faster.

"Wait!" I yelled and ran, faster and faster breathing like a Buffalo. I was so beat down and angry.

I certainly did not just risk my life to pursue the culprit.

What the hell?!

Suddenly it stood several steps ahead of me and dropped the gun, then it turned to a right sewer passage and ran through, blending perfectly with the darkness.

I picked up the gun, twirling it very slowly as I examined it carefully. As I turned to the right below the magazine, I saw a paper attached to its bottom.

I carefully opened it to see another image.

An old man with several stabholes that littered his chest clutching his cane and squeezing his hat. And there was only person I knew that met this description. Mr Bungley.

____

I slept in and punished myself with breakfast and lunch skip, but later gave in when I almost blacked out.

I met Dad when I came in for a late lunch and turned away immediately. Where had he been the whole day before? He'd left me all alone the whole night!

I planned to give him the silent treatment but he just acted like he did nothing wrong, gave me a peck as he mumbled incoherent words and headed to his bedroom in his pajamas at noon.

Whatever...

At late noon I drove to Mr Bungley's house situated at the edge of the town facing a small valley. He sat at the verandah with his cane in his hand and just staring at the sun set with his glasses and a small smile.

So calm and yet unknowing. This man was too sweet and dear to the community. I couldn't bear the probable repercussions if I'd pretend ignorance. He was our Gardener after all.

I greeted him and offered a new house accommodation, promotion and a permanent job. He was ecstatic and moved in right away. I guess he was pretty lonely, living alone at the edge of the town was surely not blissful.

The ride back home was cheerful and not so lonesome anymore. I was sort of happy. If he stayed with me at our huge home his target would be frazzled. And on the plus side I'd get some company, what could go wrong?.

I was so excited and proud of myself that I actually followed mum's cookbook and made us a full course meal, including Dad.

Hopefully this would keep his life safe.

___

I woke up to the sound of creaking from downstairs. I was a very deep sleeper but I couldn't get a single sleep till 3.am. And finally when I did, I was frightened back up by a nightmare and that creaking sound.

It came from the west wing of the mansion. I scrambled out of bed and grabbed a flashlight as I ran towards that area. That was where Mr Bungley's room was situated.

My heart pounded and burned with fear. What if.....it was the murderer? Did I fail to prevent a death once again when I had the means to?.

My steps lit the room with its noise but I had no mind on that. I had to get to his room and check to see if he's alright as fast as I could.

The closer I got the louder my heart pounded and finally I reached his door. But, I stopped with my hand mid air.

The door was slightly ajar and from the little space I saw a fallen hand.

No! No! No! No!

I flung it open just in time to meet Mr Bungley's fallen body with gasping breaths.

He shook as he choked on his breath holding his cane and his hat. Just like the picture had shown, just like I'd wanted to prevent, it was so.

I fell to my knees and my hands hovered over his body, shaking and quivering whenever I'd seen the blood patches from the numerous stabs.

His eyes dilated as he drew in a soft gasp and shut his eyes, his body went limp.

"No ... .Mr..Mr Bungley wake up. I tried to...I really tried."

I clutched his shirt as I fell to cry.

I failed.

.....

I felt blank. The gore sight of his dying body haunted me for hours and slowly hours were turning to days.

It inched in closer every time I closed my eyes or took a breath, it haunted me.

Tormenting me for my failure, my doubt, my ignorance.

I'd called the police that night and now here I was being interrogated as a main suspect.

Though it was undeniable, I still held my ground. Although he was at my house when he was killed, it was done by an unknown criminal and it certainly was not me.

They had nothing to pin me down with but I was being watched from all corners.

Dad threw a fit about all the trouble and how much this would affect his business yet all I did was stare, because I knew soon there'd be another warning.

___

The next few days passed by in a flash and I was still there, in my room, staring at the latest picture I drew. I was so affected that whenever I took up my pencil, all I drew were exact copies of Mr Bungley's limp body. I was down to my fifth one.

I stared down at the familiar picture over and over again, and suddenly I felt a shock run through my body.

The picture was perfect, they all were. So perfect that I drew every single thing in his room and their position at that moment when he was dead as well as the dark starry night streaming light through the window.

But, in the darker part of the room behind his fallen legs, the wall was not so flat. It looked a bit shifted and crooked. A figure.

It was so well blended into the darkness that I couldn't see it properly even when the picture was right in front of me.

Had a shadow really been in the room and I hadn't seen it?.

Every other picture had the same thing and no matter how hard I tried, I never saw a shadowy figure in the room but it remained so evident on all five drawn pictures. It was like a memory that I never experienced.

And worse yet, it was an exact replica of the one I'd gotten from the hooded figure in the sewer.

The shadow was shown there as well.

How did I miss all of this?

I stared between all six drawings and all looked identical. The limp statue of Mr Bungley was a bit crooked, but I noticed the stabs, as numerous as they were, were aligned in a pattern. They were limpid and clear. They formed a symbol, a word.

I scuffled through my drawers till I fished it out. The picture of the late Miss Linda. Her death picture.

I looked more closely, the cut, the line also formed a symbol. It was so deep and so definitive. Its curve was precise and its depth concise refining the word.

....g

I traced the pattern on Mr Bungley's torso.

.....r

And both spelt "gr". The killer was hinting at something.

And as much as I'd hate to do this, I wanted to find out what it was, but that meant waiting till his last kill.

Can I do that?.

___

After a week, the eyes of the police on me had already died down a bit, in the evening a message came in from the hooded figures contact. It was a new target. Mrs Fauna Lorbeth. The towns' ex-mayor ten years ago. She was a retiree who lived in the elder's house. A very crude and strict old woman.

I was left divided between helping her from the shadows and plainly watching the scene unfold to unravel the clue on the killer. I needed advice.

But still I chose the worst choice yet....

......

The next few days, I was blank.

The death tolls came in like an upset weather.

Every three days, a new body was found. I felt awful, because I knew I could possibly alert the police, and at the same time, I couldn't. That'd just get me under more suspicions and more problems with Dad.

I draw all day. With the incoming news of the growing deaths of valuable people in the town, the fear gripped the whole town tightly. But I was oddly calm.

This was no rarity of course. I had a defense mechanism. When faced with too much pain, I became as calm and meek as a lamb, meanwhile paving way for the guilt to eat me up.

The news came more horribly.

Stabs, shots, slashes. There were five people gone now. Miss Linda, Mr Bungley, Miss Fauna, Miss Charisse, and Mr Soldé.

Every one of their bodies had a mark, a letter. Summing up the words, it was still confusing.

g.r.e.e.c

The closest word to that was Greece bit that made no sense. Surely we had a war with the Greeks before but that was almost a century ago, they wouldn't be breaking the treaty now.

However, the more bizarre it sounded, the more it made sense. All those who died were old and valuable people to the town, and this town was one of the major obstacles for Greece when we battled alongside the french.

All those who died were those who'd witnessed or even partaken in the war. All decades heroes of the town. And even though it was from the Greeks, what possibly would they seek to gain from killing our icons, this would only mean worse for them wouldn't it?.

A knock resounded on my door. It came once, then twice with a little hum. I stood up to let him in.

"Is there a problem Dad?"

He stared intently at me for a moment and narrowed his eyes before his gaze softened.

What was that about?.

He sighed.

"I don't like seeing you like this. I know you're scared at all the unexpected things happening but I promise you honey you're safe."

I rolled my eyes.

I wasn't scared for myself, I was scared for the town. "What do you want, Dad?"

He sighed and stuffed his hand in his pocket, with the other holding in his suitcase.

"I have a business trip to attend for the week, I just wanted to inform you before I leave."

I frowned, hard.

This was his way of keeping me safe?.

Whatever....

I nodded and he turned to leave, after he muttered the regular 'I love you'.

I shut the door and slid down to the floor with a long sigh.

I stood up and made to my table to stare at my work.

It had several drawings. Some were repeated drawings but all new drawings, drawings of all the people who'd died. And all of them had a part with the hooded figure in the dark of the night, even when I never saw anything.

A notification popped up.

It was the hooded figure. Uptil now, I had no idea how we were connected, but as usual despite my ignorance, it sent a warning, this time however, with a picture.

Another cruel picture. Only this time I had it. The person in the picture was too precious to die.

I texted furiously, punching the keys in my phone with such venom.

We have to meet!.

Immediately, I got a reply.

The back of your house now.

I rushed outside with my phone in my hand.

At our backyard, at the entrance back door the figure stood.

I threw my phone to its feet.

"I can't freaking take this anymore! Why are you doing this?!"

I heard a soft sneer and then it dropped an envelope to the floor in the space between both of us.

I picked up the envelope and my heart stopped beating for a moment.

They were drawings that looked exactly like mine.

Every detail till the signature was just like mine, but the paper was a bit old and grungy so I knew it wasn't mine.

But yet, there it was identical to mine.

I let out a soft gasp with a stutter.

"I...I don't understand."

Then it left the final drawing to fly towards me.

It was the last picture that was sent with the text.

The picture of Dad. The last target.

I gulped harshly. But his picture had not the leaning shadow or the mark from the kill. It was plain with a single shot.

The figure finally spoke with a gruff yet soft voice.

"The last letter is E."

"What?,"

It chuckled.

"You're really dumber than I expected."

That was supposed to hurt, but somehow I felt relief at my negligence to the current knowledge that was filling my head right now.

I heard a sigh. It spoke again.

"Then maybe this will enlighten you."

It began to take off its hood. That was when I felt a sharp pain sting my head so hard it threatened to burst.

The hooded figure was me...

My sight began to shift and shake harshly, black dots danced around my vision as the second 'Me' spoke.

"Stop him Gerna, stop our Dad or you'll regret it ... .like I did."

Did she just say Dad...

My head shook, I slumped and blacked out with a thought invading my head.

Is Dad the killer....

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