I Started Writing To A Convicted Murderer Out Of Boredom, Now I REALLY Wish I Just Stayed Bored
By Vanessa Doe
A flowerpot crashed from the porch to the ground nearby, but I was too focused on the letter – besides, it was probably the stray cat finally returning. Turning it over, I gasped in excitement. It was Rob! He wrote back! I ran inside, my heart pounding inside my chest. I ripped open the envelope, my eyes practically bulging out of my head. There were seven words on the page, written in what looked like chicken scratch: “Hello Anna, I will see you soon”. I re-read the words; it sent chills up and down my spine.
What did he mean by that? I picked up the envelope from the ground and flipped it over. There it was, my address. In my drunken state of mind from the wine, I neglected the fact that I should probably put my P.O Box as an address and not my actual address when writing to a murderer. I looked at the letter once more; it was dated 3 days ago. I ran to my laptop, powering it on and opened up a search website. Typing in his name, I hit search and the worst of my worries had come true.
He was released yesterday.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I muttered, scolding myself. I was just about to grab the phone to call the police when the lights in my house went out.