Chapter One (Fishman)
Chapter One (Fishman) rose stories

galethemo I write horror, mystery, and thriller.
Autoplay OFF   •   9 months ago
A person faces many obstacles to help their sister escape death.
Chapter One of "Fishman," a book I'm working on.
For the prologue...
For "Chapter Two"...

Chapter One (Fishman)

I walked with excitement down the dusty road toward 56423, Green Maple Drive in Jupiter, Florida. This was the first step to save Sarah's, my sister's, life.

As I patted my leather belt to make sure my pistol was still there, I remembered that 34 years ago Sarah had told me to keep my promise of protecting her.

When people had found out that the meat she hid in her refrigerator was human flesh, the goal of the town was to kill her, after putting her through the electric chair, of course.

Sarah was my sister, so of course I would save her. In 1997, when I made the promise to Sarah, she gave me the list of names I held now between my thumb and forefinger.

These names were the people that would put my sister through the chair to death. At the time I was 44 years old. Now I'm 75.

The plastic surgery helped some, though; now I look like I'm in my late fifties.

When everyone found out my sister was a cannibal, they took all the meat and put it under special equipment to make sure they weren't mistaken; as if the leftover human hand with two missing fingers wasn't enough.

Well, while the police were rushing to the house to arrest Sarah, I was urgently discussing with Sarah how I was going to help her. We made a plan. The first step was to make a disguise.

What good would it do for me if people saw me killing everyone? If I had a mask on, it would be difficult for people to see who I truly was.

The best way to make a mask is to make one out of everyday materials. Sarah had one she had made previously in her attic just for this reason.

She was positive someone would catch her one day, so why not make a disguise for me, her brother, who was willing to do anything for her, even murder, to get Sarah out of prison.

The mask smelt of a certain, well, of a certain odor, one you wouldn't expect a mask to have. But, it was Sarah, so I knew that whatever she had up her sleeve was not the usual.

The reason the mask had a certain smell was because Sarah had created the mask with some everyday items from her home - her dinner, which was now known as human flesh.

The particular human who had died just for this mask was a very important person in Sarah's life - perhaps too important, for the person who she murdered was her very own husband, Charles.

I never really new why she had took her husband's life, perhaps I will know soon. But I did know that the mask was fish-shaped, like a trout.

Charles had loved to fish, so maybe that was why Sarah had shaped the mask like one.

I didn't have any idea that Sarah could make masks, but those thoughts didn't matter anymore; what mattered was the task I needed to do for my dear sister. When she told me what I had to do for her, I agreed.

We were family, not like the families you saw playing at the park, we were farther apart - but at the same time, closer than any family would ever be. At that time we heard the sirens.

Sarah shoved the mask into my sweaty hands, looked up into my confused, green eyes, and said just one word: "Bye." "Goodbye," I responded, more excited than ever, although not particularly a good excited.

I ran out the door, jumped over the gate as if it were a small mound of dirt, and dug in my coat pocket until I found the keys to my car.

I pressed the "unlock" button and jumped in the driver's seat. I was careful to place the fish-like mask in the passenger seat that already had a number of mystery stains.

I glanced at my watch; it was a quarter passed ten. I opened the glovebox on the other side of my car and took out the leather case.

I took the key from the necklace I had on and put the key inside the funny shaped lock and turned the key to the left.

I heard a soft click and used my left hand to raise the latch up and then I opened the case. The pistol was sitting there, in the middle, just as I had left it.

My hands shivered as I picked up the gun. This was the first time I would use the gun for murder, not just self-defense. I put the gun back in the case.

I grabbed the key to my car and put it in the ignition. I turned it to the right until I heard the engine start.

I then put the gas pedal as far down as it would go, for I could now see the flashing red lights. I drove all the way across town that day to make sure I was safe and away from the cops.

I fell asleep in my car that night. When I woke up the next day it was about seven. I looked at the list of names and addresses. Sarah had given me the day before.

The first name on the list was Annie Miller. It said that her address was 14572 Willow Street and that she was a judge; since she was on the "Kill List," my guess was that she was going to give Sarah a life-long sentence in prison. I wasn't going to let that happen. "This is the last day Annie Miller is going to live," I said to myself.

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