Detective Brandt sighed impatiently, waiting for Mrs Davis to come to the door. A mentally ill woman with a history of substance abuse, Brandt was there to check on her after receiving a troubling call from her parole officer regarding her worsening emotional state. After 3 minutes of waiting, he pushed open the front door and stepped into the darkness. Coming across her bedroom, he saw a camcorder set up on the table, the blinking red light indicating it was running low on battery. Curious, he picked it up and played the most recent video. Mrs Davis disheveled face filled the tiny screen. She looked like she hadnt slept for days. “They’re coming for me. I know it. I’m not safe here. I need a place to hi-” Taktaktak Brandt jumped at the sudden noise that came from the speaker. He watched as Mrs Davis eyes went wide. “They’re here.” she whispered, eyes darting back and forth, before she grabbed a knife from the table and climbed into her closet at the back of the room. Taktaktak “What on earth is that sound?” Brandt wondered. The realization of where the knocking was coming from made his blood run cold, when he heard his own voice calling from down the hall: “Mrs Davis?” His attention now fully fixed on the video; he saw his own face on screen as he picked up the camcorder, sitting on the same chair Mrs Davis was on mere moments ago. At that second, the recording cut out. That’s when he heard the heavy, ragged breathing coming from behind him.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 07:36:46 +0000
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