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		<title>I&#8217;m back!</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2011/04/07/im-back/</link>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 07 Apr 2011 20:12:29 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://sshartman.wordpress.com/?p=233</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I would like to thank you all for reading my stories. I am sorry for not being on for quite some time. I have been working on my novel and I have been leading a very busy life lately. I am however back again! I am working on a new short story, and will be posting it [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=233&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I would like to thank you all for reading my stories. I am sorry for not being on for quite some time. I have been working on my novel and I have been leading a very busy life lately. I am however back again! I am working on a new short story, and will be posting it soon, right here, on word press. Stay tuned! Lot&#8217;s of love to my readers! Stay Scared!</p>
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		<title>Part-4 “The Invisible Hitcher”</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/12/12/part-4-%e2%80%9cthe-invisible-hitcher%e2%80%9d/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 12 Dec 2009 23:08:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://sshartman.wordpress.com/?p=229</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[  Part-4 “The Invisible Hitcher” “I&#8217;m flattered by your fascination with me you son of a bitch but go back where the fuck you came from!” Lenard called out as he cringed in pain and agony, as the beast howled from with in him. He was tied to the basement walls as if he were [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=229&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p> </p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Part-4 “The Invisible Hitcher”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;m flattered by your fascination with me you son of a bitch but go back where the fuck you came from!” Lenard called out as he cringed in pain and agony, as the beast howled from with in him. He was tied to the basement walls as if he were a slave who ran away and was about to be beaten. His hands and feet were tied with ropes and chains. Lenard himself and built them in the days and weeks leading up. Jillian asked him why, and he said that the knew, somehow, he just knew that he was going to be needing them. He was right. Bound and gagged so as to not bite his own tongue off, his frail body was oozing a stench of death like nothing any of them had experienced. Like the scent of a thousand rotting bodies, and an oil that appeared to the naked eye to be blood, but was not. It was more like he was rusting_ decaying. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jillian drifted away to the sound of Lenard&#8217;s screams to a happier time. She was suddenly in his arms on the dance floor at they&#8217;re wedding and feeling the love she had for him then and now as her heart pounded in despair. He was everything she&#8217;d ever wanted, they had a fire about them that in their love they knew no time could bend or break. She burned with desire for him, and she admired him all the same. His courage, his honesty, his matter of fact way of doing things. He loved so strongly and yet showed very little on the surface. She could see it in his eyes every time he looked into hers though. He admired her too. He wouldn&#8217;t say it but it was in the way he watched her with the baby and even when they were children he would stand for minutes at a time and watch her, thinking she didn&#8217;t know he was there, but she knew. And she knew what he was thinking by the way he watched. The longing the wanting, for a family like hers, for the peace, and the love, and serenity of home. Something he never had. His home life was a living hell and nothing changed it until he escaped for good from his old man&#8217;s grip. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">She could smell his cologne, and could even feel the texture of his black suit. When he kissed her she felt like they were the only two people in the world and that she was safe as long as she stayed within those arms. They danced the floor over, and held one another so close. It was their day, they were finally united, in the eyes of God, they were one and the same now. And they felt it too. Years of longing for completion, and absolution, and it had finally come. They&#8217;re lives were about to begin, though they had lived most of their lives together anyway, knowing one another, loving one another, sharing they&#8217;re experiences, good and bad. Looking back now she felt she was naive to think it hadn&#8217;t begun yet. It was always there. Their time together began the first moment they met, and not on that dance floor after all. Was it all about to be over? Was she about to say goodbye forever? How could she let him go? How could she bid him farewell, her stomach ached in agony. Lenard thrashed around, his wrists bled, and his legs buckled and cracked as if they were breaking at times. He thrashed and thrashed as the church folk spouted words of praise to the Almighty. The pastor demanded the demons go back from whence they came. Lenard no longer sounded nor looked like himself. His hair had grown over 3 inches and his nails had grown out long and curled under, his legs appeared to be broken, his eyes totally black and his flesh seeped the rotting rust colored oils. His voice, now his voice was the worst of it. A deeply evil tone of not one but many, and then it happened.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">You, pastor, you have no power here. Ye sinner, have no power of us.” the demons inside of Lenard&#8217;s said forcefully. The pastor continued his work, and spoke the words he read from his bible along with the others. “Stealing money from your parishioners? Fucking the little girls who come out of the overnight functions at your leisure. Be gone you have no power here.” At this the pastor grabbed his heart and fell to his knees. The beasts laughed, and spat at him. He fell over dead, and the other two men trembled where they stood. “You, you come for me do you?” the beasts said to the biggest of the burly men and he looked up from the pastor just once and made eye contact. “You dare to try to defeat me you piss ant, do you? And how will you do it? You who lies to his wife every night about why he cannot fuck her like a man. You who like little boys, do you? Little boys from the bars around the corner, little college boys, bent over and loving it. Tell her that&#8217;s why, tell her and shame the devil, ha ha ha!” the beasts laughed again, and a wire from the ceiling came down and wrapped itself around the man&#8217;s neck as he dangled there seeking his last breath. The smell in the room grew and Jillian just kept thinking the entire time, be still, and get Lenard out of this somehow. The other burly man and rail of a woman terrified continued their quest for mercy for Lenard&#8217;s soul. “Be gone!” the beast said looking at the rail of a woman and she flew back and slammed against the wall as forceful as if she had fallen from a fifty story building. At this Jillian realized that something was going very wrong. Nothing worked, no words, no praise, no prayer. Had none of them been true Christians she thought, were none of them worthy? In moments the other man was dead and Lenard was calling for Jill, but when she went back down there he was passed out and hanging from him his hands like a crucifixion image. She stepped over the bodies for two day before she dragged them off to the other side of the basement. She attempted to clean his wounds but he would just say the most horrible things to her. She gave him water, and kept him alive but for what she did not know. The next day her mother insisted on bringing the baby back and so she did. Jillian scrambled around in the kitchen. She need to make supper. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jill took the pans out of the oven to prepare dinner.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">One dropped from her hand, and slammed to floor_ she began to cry. The baby was hungry, crying from his high chair, and the electric had been cut off due to “non-payment” the notice read. She planned to make soup on the gas burner, just enough for little Lenny and herself. He wouldn&#8217;t be needing anything, he who was in the basement.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">She fed the baby his soup and a calm came over her. She stared off into space, as the smoke encircled her head. She set the newly lit cigarette down in the ashtray, and walked down into the basement. She grabbed the ax from the floor by the wall as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She walked over to Lenard and in one fail swoop of the blade she hacked off his head. She closed her eyes, looked away, and walked her blood spattered self back up the stairs in such a matter of fact way as Lenard would have been proud. She sat back down to feeding the baby, the cigarette still only half way gone, she picked it up and took another drag. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">The End!</span></span></p>
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		<title>&#8220;The Invisible Hitcher&#8221; Part-3</title>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Dec 2009 21:04:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[  Jill stood up, and put the butt out into the ashtray, then cleared the smoke from her face. She looked towards the stairs to the basement and then walked towards them. Her heart pounded beneath her chest, and a single tear ran down her face. She reached for the cold hard brass knob. As [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=228&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p> </p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jill stood up, and put the butt out into the ashtray, then cleared the smoke from her face. She looked towards the stairs to the basement and then walked towards them. Her heart pounded beneath her chest, and a single tear ran down her face. She reached for the cold hard brass knob. As soon as she opened the door the stench of death filled her lungs. She took each step into the unknown, in her mind she was praying for help. In her heart she was dying with him. She reached the bottom of the stars and found Lenard shivering in his chair.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Come on baby&#8230;” she said, and reached out her hand to take his. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">No, I have to stay down here. I don&#8217;t want to hurt you.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">This isn&#8217;t hurting me Lenard, it&#8217;s killing me. Please, come up to bed with me.” he saw the look in her eyes and could no longer tell her no. He longed for her and felt so very alone, and afraid. He took her hand and the went upstairs to their room, and lied down on the bed. She covered him with the sheet first, then the bedspread, and then dug into the closet for her grandmother&#8217;s quilt. She opened it up and placed it only over him, then crawled into the bed and under the covers with him. He was getting much to week to argue and so he let her hold him. He could feel the tears running down his back, but said nothing. She could feel his cold clammy body and could smell death on him, it was like lying in bed with her own dead husband, her best friend, her lover, the father of her child, her everything. (I&#8217;ll go to the grave with you my love, she thought.) </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Unaware of the hours that passed Jill awoke to the sound of the ringing phone. She opened her eyes, (the pastor), she thought. She slipped out of bed and hustled herself down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Hello!”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jillian, hey what&#8217;s going on? I got you message, it sounded quite urgent. Is everything alright my dear?” She told him of the things that had been going on ever since that fateful day in the hospital. “Remarkable&#8230;And you&#8217;ve been dealing with this all on your own?”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yes, I have.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Oh my dear. Listen I&#8217;m gonna see what I do, and I&#8217;ll be there with reinforcements, okay?”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Thank you pastor.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Hold on Jillian, trust in God..”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH” Lenard called out from the upstairs. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Oh no, that&#8217;s Lenard!” </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;ll be there as soon as I can.” It didn&#8217;t take more than an hour and the pastor arrived. Fully reinforced with two other big burly men from the church and one slender, gray haired woman. They came with all they had to ward off the evil. Crosses, blessed water, blessed oils, their very own tattered bibles, and the most important thing of all, they brought God with them. Jill could feel the the presence of the lord as they arrived, a light, an energy unlike any other. Lenard felt it too. They stood in the living room, fixed to floor like statues, that had been purposely placed there in their precise locations. They discussed they&#8217;re plan, and they could hear Lenard crying out from the upstairs bedroom. He howled in pain, for they&#8217;re very presence was causing an uprising beneath his flesh. He could feel the fingers of one and the elbows of another moving about as if he was intended to give birth to evil any moment. And yet he knew he would surely die before such things would come about. The demons would kill him, they would never be allowed to be released. God had never allowed such things before and Lenard knew he wouldn&#8217;t allow it this time either. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">He was very afraid. He cried out to the Lord for his mercy, to send back to the depths the thing that came came along for the ride on that fateful day at the hospital. How did it hitch it&#8217;s ride, he did not know. How did it get to him where he went. He did not know that either. He felt as though it had to have happened while he was reentering the world, at that very moment when he was merely standing in a doorway and no longer close to the light, neither was he close to the darkness though, still in the the most dangerous alley of the spiritual realm, the one farthest from God, and closest to the world of the living. God is everywhere, Lenard told himself, but in this place, in this dangerous alley way, it was there that it was possible. He agonized over his own thoughts. What would become of his child, of his wife. Without him, how would they be whole, how would they ever be safe. How would they survive. He felt responsible for them, in so many ways, for he had to begin with, but then he brought them back, and for what, to do this to them. He hated himself. He loathed this beast that cowered beneath his flesh. All he had to do was to allow the sadness to take over. To let himself succumb to it&#8217;s power, and he would be finished. His blackened eyes teared up, and his ears rang, as they came for him. One by one, each step clapped against the floorboards like the executioner sharpening his ax. He was off to the gallows, to be removed from himself and hopefully would find his way back again just one last time, without the beast. The door flew open and there stood Jillian, the pastor of the church, two large men and a tiny, rail of a woman. They had bibles in their hands, and Lenard knew, the time had come, the rope was lowered, and the only thing he could do now was kiss his wife goodbye, tell her he loved her, and fight like he never had before. For all that was good and right in the world. For his own, for his destiny. It was time to leap. </span></span></p>
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		<title>&#8220;The Invisible Hitcher&#8221; Part-2</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/11/21/the-invisible-hitcher-part-2/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 21 Nov 2009 21:25:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/11/21/the-invisible-hitcher-part-2/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#160; “Lenard!” Jill called down to the basement one night. “Lenard! Are you down here?” “Yeah, I&#8217;m over here.” “What are you doing sitting in the dark? What&#8217;s going on Lenard? How are we suppose to pay anything now. I&#8217;m not getting enough hours to keep us afloat. Babe you gotta get to the doctor. [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=226&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Lenard!” Jill called down to the basement one night. “Lenard! Are you down here?” </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yeah, I&#8217;m over here.” </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">What are you doing sitting in the dark? What&#8217;s going on Lenard? How are we suppose to pay anything now. I&#8217;m not getting enough hours to keep us afloat. Babe you gotta get to the doctor. Something is wrong Lenard.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">I know&#8230;I can feel it crawling around inside me.” Jill began to cry.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">What?”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">And I have scratches all over my body, like this.” He pulled up his t-shirt and showed her his stomach, and chest. They&#8217;d not made love in weeks, and he wouldn&#8217;t let her near the bathroom when he showered, so she hadn&#8217;t seen his bare flesh, and had no idea what was really going on with him. She closed her eyes, afraid of what she would see. As she slowly opened them she witnessed scratches that looked like they were coming from the inside out. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Oh Jesus fucking Christ Lenard!” she cried out. “What is it?”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">I don&#8217;t know&#8230;” Lenard began to cry himself as he saw her reaction, and it confirmed his own fear. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">That&#8217;s it, I&#8217;m taking little Lenny to Ma, and I&#8217;ll be back for you. We&#8217;re going back to the hospital, and we&#8217;re not leaving without answers. And so they did. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">The doctors, and nurses seemed as puzzled and appalled as Lenard and Jill was, after their examinations were complete. They put him through a battery of tests and came up with nothing. The doctor told Lenard he was sorry once more and that he would have to go and see a specialist.. Lenard grabbed the front of the doctors scrubs, and pulled him close to him.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Now you listen to me, I don&#8217;t wanna hear sorry from you ever again. You tell me what the fuck is wrong with me and you tell me now, or I&#8217;m gonna rip off your God Damned head and shit down your throat, you useless piece of shit.” </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Lenard!” Jillian cried out as she pulled him back. “Let go Lenard&#8230;Let go!” he did as she requested realizing it was her who was doing the asking. “I&#8217;m so sorry, he&#8217;s not usually like this. It&#8217;s this illness.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;m not angry Jillian, I know it is. I want to help you Lenard&#8230;”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">But you&#8217;ve done all you can right.” he said in disgust, recalling the doctors previous words the night his son was born. The doctor blinked his eyes as if he could weep, himself, but his professionalism was surely getting in the way. He looked down. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">We&#8217;re just so glad your all okay, we&#8217;ll help you in any way we can to find your answers. That&#8217;s why I&#8217;m sending you to this specialist, maybe he&#8217;ll find something we could not.” He reached out to hand Lenard the piece of paper that he usually wrote out prescriptions on, instead he had written the name and number of the physician he was referring Lenard to. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">I don&#8217;t want your God damn doctors!” Lenard smacked his hand away. Jillian took the paper with a kind smile and a look in her eyes that said I&#8217;m so sorry. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Baby please&#8230;” Jillian wept, and begged Lenard to to try harder as the doctor walked away.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;m not sick Jill, I&#8217;m possessed.” he told her. She scrunched her brow, and quickly looked left and right trying to make sense of his words. She&#8217;s remembered hearing such things growing up and the church even had one boy years ago who was said to have been possessed. Maybe they should go to the pastor, she thought. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Okay, baby lets go.” she told him. She put him in the car and drove to the church. As they rounded the corner block of the church Lenard began to scream and cry out in horrible pain. He twitched and shook profusely. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Aaahhhh! No!&#8230;.. No!&#8230;..Just go Jillian&#8230;..I can&#8217;t be here!”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">But we have to, Lenard please!” He looked up at her and his blue eyes became filled with swirls of blackness, including the parts that were normally white. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Get me out of here!” he growled. The look on her face was one of horror and she began to cry as she frantically tried to start the car. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Oh God help us!” she pleaded. Lenard growled more as she spoke these words. Finally the car turned over and they were off. As soon as they were a few blocks away Lenard seemed to pass out from exhaustion. She drove him home and helped him inside. He was quite week and the smell coming from him was terrible to bare. She nearly threw up twice on the way in. Lenard stumbled down the stairs, and into the basement he went. Back into the darkness, back into the world from which she could not reach him. She sat down at the little round table in the kitchen and smoked cigarette after cigarette. She called her mother and told her that the doctors weren&#8217;t sure what Lenard had, and she wanted to know if she could keep the baby for a few days until she knew it was safe. She agreed that she would and Jillian went back to smoking, and thinking. How would she help him? She did not know. Her heart ached for him, she loved him so much and could not imagine her life without him. She had to think of some thing. And then it dawned on her, if she couldn&#8217;t take Lenard to the church, she would have to have the Pastor come to them, to their home. She picked up the phone and dialed the number.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">Pastor Finney, it&#8217;s Jillian Blake. I need your help&#8230;”</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">To Be Continued&#8230;.</span></span></p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<title>Part-1 “The Invisible Hitcher”</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/11/10/part-1-%e2%80%9cthe-invisible-hitcher%e2%80%9d/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 10 Nov 2009 02:20:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[&#160;                                “The Invisible Hitcher”                  Written by: S.S.Hartman Jill took the pans out of the oven to prepare dinner. One dropped from her hand, and slammed to floor_ she began to cry. The baby was hungry, crying from his high chair, and the electric had been cut off due to “non-payment” the notice [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=213&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>                               “<span style="font-family:Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">The Invisible Hitcher”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">                 Written by: S.S.Hartman </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jill took the pans out of the oven to prepare dinner.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">One dropped from her hand, and slammed to floor_ she began to cry. The baby was hungry, crying from his high chair, and the electric had been cut off due to “non-payment” the notice read. She planned to make soup on the gas burner, just enough for little Lenny and herself. He wouldn&#8217;t be needing anything, he who was in the basement.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">She reached down to get the pan off of the filthy dated, 1960&#8242;s, black and white tiled floor, fighting the cockroaches for it. The house stank of rat shit, and dirty diapers. Where did it all go, she thought. What in the hell happened to us. We used to be so happy. Before the baby, and before the move, all was well. The two of them had been childhood sweethearts, and married right after graduation. Lenard used to always say that Jill was the only person in the world who truly understood him. She truly was, and that&#8217;s how she, and only she, knew what had to be done. For he would never change back, and he would never stop. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Two years ago, as the rice hit the floor of the little Church on Randall that they&#8217;d been going to since they&#8217;re christenings, life was good. Jill had a genuine smile on her face, and Lenard seamed ready for life outside of his old man&#8217;s house to begin. Jill knew then that it was she who wanted the whole marriage and kids thing, much more than Lenard had, still he accepted it, as it was, the </span></span><em><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">thing</span></span></em><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;"> to do. Or was it?</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jill wished now more than ever that they hadn&#8217;t gotten married right away. It was too much pressure, and for someone slowly unraveling, it was going to prove fatal. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">From the time Lenard was five years old his father would whip him with a leather strap if he so much as breathed in his direction. Lenard got used to avoiding him, but you can&#8217;t avoid evil, it will find you. He ran to Jill&#8217;s house many times, to escape his fathers wrath. She would be sitting on the front porch of her parents 1960&#8242;s style bungalow, with a gray stoned porch, playing with her dolls, or helping her mother in the garden. She was always the perfect retreat, to his mind. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Lenard got a job working at Langston&#8217;s saw mill, and Jill took up waitressing with her mother at their family diner. The hours were long and the pay was nil but they both worked hard and seemed to get by from week to week with out starving to death. They lived for their night&#8217;s when they&#8217;d come home and fuck like rabbits until the day was new. It wasn&#8217;t paradise but it was real American living. And they were proud of the little life they had. Of coarse the baby came around without much time passing at all, and Jill couldn&#8217;t have been happier. Then before they all knew it, it almost came to an abrupt end. The clock struck twelve through the pitch black night, but it was Jillian&#8217;s screams that awoke the dead that night. Lenard called the doctor, and then her mother, then his. Everyone would meet them at the hospital, little Lenny was coming. The doctor examined Jill, and immediately rushed everyone out of the room. All Lenard heard was “Emergency C-section.” </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">The baby is in distress Lenard.” the nurse told him, but he didn&#8217;t hear her. All he could see was the love of his life being wheeled out on a hospital bed and into the unknown. Would she come back, he thought. Would he be taking her home with the baby in her arms like he&#8217;d imagined a thousand time or would they be having a funeral in a couple of days. With one big casket and one small one. When the image of the tiny casket came rolling into his mind he dropped to his knees. It was more than he could bare. The time went by like the rivers erode the rock beds. And in the end, the moment he felt would never come, and yet hoped it might not, did. The nurses and doctor came walking out of the double doors with their heads lowered_ they removed their masks. The doctors eyes met Lenard&#8217;s and he was sure it wasn&#8217;t good. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;m sorry son. We did everything we could do.” he said. Chills ran over Lenard&#8217;s body, and then there was no noise, no time, no heartbeat beneath his own chest. He collapsed. Where ever Lenard went he found his heart, and soul, and brought them back with him, but he wasn&#8217;t alone. . It was all over the news, and the family was ever so grateful. Somehow when Lenard collapsed, then flat lined right there in front of God and everyone, he went to other side, and when he was brought back, in the same room, a bed over, Jill and the baby awoke. Jillian and Lenard sat up, simultaneously, then</span></span> <span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">screamed the most blood curdling scream any of the hospital staff had ever witnessed. The baby cried out as well, at the exact same time, and it was his very first breath that brought the room to tears. The doctor burst from the open doors once more.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">I don&#8217;t know what happened! They&#8217;re alive! They&#8217;re all alive!” he announced. Both families rejoiced, and tragedy, on that day was averted. Little did any of them know it would be back for them. Jill checked out fine, and so did the baby. Lenard was running a high fever for days and the doctors couldn&#8217;t explain it. He broke out in cold sweats in the middle of the night, and when the baby would wake up crying he would get up and sit with him, for he could not sleep. He didn&#8217;t tell anyone the truth about how bad it really was, and even Jill who lived with him only knew part of the story. He in fact hadn&#8217;t slept one moment since he awoke screaming in the O.R. He would get terrible pains in his abdomen, and began suffering from strange scratches all over his body. His eyes over the next few months became more and more bloodshot. He had a foul oder about him, no matter how many times a day he showered. He would have visions during the day of crowds of people, screaming, and running in an unknown place. It always seemed black, that was all he knew, and they would be shoving one another and the smell, he couldn&#8217;t get it out of his head. It was the same smell that came from the old shed when he was seven, and his dog buster got killed in the road out in front of their house. His father took his time burying the animal, nearly four days. It smelled like death, and so did he. He stopped going to work, and old man Langston fired him. He spent his days sitting in the basement, in the dark, and Lenard hated the dark, ever since he was a child. He sat in an old rocker and drank beer after beer, and Lenard hated beer, and hummed an eerie tune. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">To be Continued&#8230; </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">The Invisible Hitcher”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Written by: S.S.Hartman </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jill took the pans out of the oven to prepare dinner.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">One dropped from her hand, and slammed to floor_ she began to cry. The baby was hungry, crying from his high chair, and the electric had been cut off due to “non-payment” the notice read. She planned to make soup on the gas burner, just enough for little Lenny and herself. He wouldn&#8217;t be needing anything, he who was in the basement.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">She reached down to get the pan off of the filthy dated, 1960&#8242;s, black and white tiled floor, fighting the cockroaches for it. The house stank of rat shit, and dirty diapers. Where did it all go, she thought. What in the hell happened to us. We used to be so happy. Before the baby, and before the move, all was well. The two of them had been childhood sweethearts, and married right after graduation. Lenard used to always say that Jill was the only person in the world who truly understood him. She truly was, and that&#8217;s how she, and only she, knew what had to be done. For he would never change back, and he would never stop. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Two years ago, as the rice hit the floor of the little Church on Randall that they&#8217;d been going to since they&#8217;re christenings, life was good. Jill had a genuine smile on her face, and Lenard seamed ready for life outside of his old man&#8217;s house to begin. Jill knew then that it was she who wanted the whole marriage and kids thing, much more than Lenard had, still he accepted it, as it was, the </span></span><em><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">thing</span></span></em><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;"> to do. Or was it?</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jill wished now more than ever that they hadn&#8217;t gotten married right away. It was too much pressure, and for someone slowly unraveling, it was going to prove fatal. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">From the time Lenard was five years old his father would whip him with a leather strap if he so much as breathed in his direction. Lenard got used to avoiding him, but you can&#8217;t avoid evil, it will find you. He ran to Jill&#8217;s house many times, to escape his fathers wrath. She would be sitting on the front porch of her parents 1960&#8242;s style bungalow, with a gray stoned porch, playing with her dolls, or helping her mother in the garden. She was always the perfect retreat, to his mind. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">Lenard got a job working at Langston&#8217;s saw mill, and Jill took up waitressing with her mother at their family diner. The hours were long and the pay was nil but they both worked hard and seemed to get by from week to week with out starving to death. They lived for their night&#8217;s when they&#8217;d come home and fuck like rabbits until the day was new. It wasn&#8217;t paradise but it was real American living. And they were proud of the little life they had. Of coarse the baby came around without much time passing at all, and Jill couldn&#8217;t have been happier. Then before they all knew it, it almost came to an abrupt end. The clock struck twelve through the pitch black night, but it was Jillian&#8217;s screams that awoke the dead that night. Lenard called the doctor, and then her mother, then his. Everyone would meet them at the hospital, little Lenny was coming. The doctor examined Jill, and immediately rushed everyone out of the room. All Lenard heard was “Emergency C-section.” </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">The baby is in distress Lenard.” the nurse told him, but he didn&#8217;t hear her. All he could see was the love of his life being wheeled out on a hospital bed and into the unknown. Would she come back, he thought. Would he be taking her home with the baby in her arms like he&#8217;d imagined a thousand time or would they be having a funeral in a couple of days. With one big casket and one small one. When the image of the tiny casket came rolling into his mind he dropped to his knees. It was more than he could bare. The time went by like the rivers erode the rock beds. And in the end, the moment he felt would never come, and yet hoped it might not, did. The nurses and doctor came walking out of the double doors with their heads lowered_ they removed their masks. The doctors eyes met Lenard&#8217;s and he was sure it wasn&#8217;t good. </span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;m sorry son. We did everything we could do.” he said. Chills ran over Lenard&#8217;s body, and then there was no noise, no time, no heartbeat beneath his own chest. He collapsed. Where ever Lenard went he found his heart, and soul, and brought them back with him, but he wasn&#8217;t alone. . It was all over the news, and the family was ever so grateful. Somehow when Lenard collapsed, then flat lined right there in front of God and everyone, he went to other side, and when he was brought back, in the same room, a bed over, Jill and the baby awoke. Jillian and Lenard sat up, simultaneously, then</span></span> <span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">screamed the most blood curdling scream any of the hospital staff had ever witnessed. The baby cried out as well, at the exact same time, and it was his very first breath that brought the room to tears. The doctor burst from the open doors once more.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span style="font-family:Papyrus, cursive;"><span style="font-size:large;">I don&#8217;t know what happened! They&#8217;re alive! They&#8217;re all alive!” he announced. Both families rejoiced, and tragedy, on that day was averted. Little did any of them know it would be back for them. Jill checked out fine, and so did the baby. Lenard was running a high fever for days and the doctors couldn&#8217;t explain it. He broke out in cold sweats in the middle of the night, and when the baby would wake up crying he would get up and sit with him, for he could not sleep. He didn&#8217;t tell anyone the truth about how bad it really was, and even Jill who lived with him only knew part of the story. He in fact hadn&#8217;t slept one moment since he awoke screaming in the O.R. He would get terrible pains in his abdomen, and began suffering from strange scratches all over his body. His eyes over the next few months became more and more bloodshot. He had a foul oder about him, no matter how many times a day he showered. He would have visions during the day of crowds of people, screaming, and running in an unknown place. It always seemed black, that was all he knew, and they would be shoving one another and the smell, he couldn&#8217;t get it out of his head. It was the same smell that came from the old shed when he was seven, and his dog buster got killed in the road out in front of their house. His father took his time burying the animal, nearly four days. It smelled like death, and so did he. He stopped going to work, and old man Langston fired him. He spent his days sitting in the basement, in the dark, and Lenard hated the dark, ever since he was a child. He sat in an old rocker and drank beer after beer, and Lenard hated beer, and hummed an eerie tune. </span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style="font-size:large;">To be Continued&#8230; </span></span></p>
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		<title>Part-11 &#8220;The Pink Cadillac&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/10/25/part-11-the-pink-cadillac/</link>
		<comments>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/10/25/part-11-the-pink-cadillac/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 25 Oct 2009 22:06:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[BLOODCURDLING]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[Well, I hope you all enjoyed this special extended version of SSHartman's "Virtual Campfire Stories" with "The Pink Cadillac" 
HAPPY HALLOWEEN, STAY SCARED! <img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=208&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">Part-11</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">They bolted for the door, shoving it in mid slam, and flew to the car, hopped in and started it right up. Peddle to the medal and they were off. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Why do you always have to do that!? They weren&#8217;t do-un&#8217; anything wrong!” Rina cried out. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I know who they are, and I know why their here.” Tom answered her with an angry, grumbling tone. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Oh you do? And why is that Tom? Why were they here? You tell me!” and she placed her hand over her womb, knelt over and cried out. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">They found out about the car being messed up, from before. What did you think I mean!?” Rina Worthen shook her head in disbelief. She had always wanted to believ him. She failed her precious daughter, so now she was going to stand up to him, no matter what the cost_ she felt she had nothing left to loose. She wanted to play it cool though, and read the Journal before she tore into him, oh yes, for that she needed to be prepared, in more ways than one.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Anna and Morgan raced home. They thought for sure they&#8217;d been had a few times with the local PD for Anna&#8217;s driving, but they made it safe all the same. Surely April had a little something to do with that. They ran into Morgan&#8217;s room breathless, and threw themselves down on the Morgan&#8217;s bed with it&#8217;s black satin bedding. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Jesus! Oh my god, I can&#8217;t believe this Anna!” Morgan said breathlessly. “That guy, is one nut fucked wacko!”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I totally agree with you this time Morgan. So what do we do now?” Anna said sounding desperate.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">We fight Annabelle, what the hell do you think we&#8217;re gonna do?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">And how do we do that Morgan?” Anna began to cry. “Because now I&#8217;m almost positive that it was me who murdered those guys, I can&#8217;t imagine it being anyone else.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What about that asshole, Tom Worth?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Why would any of those guys have gotten into a car with him? I have a gut feeling on this Morgan.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Anna I&#8217;ve known you all my life, and you couldn&#8217;t hurt a fly.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No, but if I was possessed by that girl&#8217;s spirit, God knows what I could&#8217;ve done. I am so afraid. I don&#8217;t want to go to jail for the rest of my life Morgan.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Anna, just follow your heart. Do what <em>it</em> tells you to do. At least you&#8217;ll be able to live with yourself, no matter what happens, and you know I&#8217;ll always be your friend. I&#8217;ll always be here for you.” Anna reached over and hugged Morgan around the neck, tight, and wept.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Thanks Morgan!” she said. “I love you.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">The two swooped away the black eyeliner from under their eyes. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I love you too Anna..” Morgan said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Anna did go to jail in fact, ghostly stories don&#8217;t hold up very well in court I&#8217;m afraid. Oh no, they rely on cold hard facts. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">Like journals in someones known handwriting perhaps. April spoke to her mother through the journal after all. She confirmed Anna&#8217;s reports that her father had been at her for some time. In fact since she was a small child. She allowed it, she said, for some time through her teen years, but then it got to be too much. She wanted him to pay, and the fact that he never did was to much to bare. In fact, we know now, it&#8217;s what kept her earthbound. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">The last thing April Worthen wrote in her journal was directly to her mother the night she went after her father, nearly running him over with her car out on Shaw Lake Rd. She went over the bridge instead at 1:21am. and all Tom Worth could do was have an elaborate funeral, to boost sales at the lot, and dry out that car, half ass restore it, and sell it. It read, </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Momma, I needed you to remember. Remember all the times you&#8217;d come into the garage, and he&#8217;d run you out, and the nights he&#8217;d come up missing from your bed. I killed those guys from school, and I&#8217;m sorry for that, I lost my mind I think, I&#8217;m too far gone Momma. I&#8217;m gonna leave now, but I&#8217;m gonna take him with me, so you guys won&#8217;t have to worry about him anymore. I love you, tell Jon I love him. -April” Rina Worthen, after reading her daughters journal, went into her bathroom, showered, then put on her favorite night gown and perfume. She even put on her favorite lip gloss before unlocking the thirty-eight Tom Kept at home in case of burglars. She went out into the over sized garage and shot him in the head, then turned the gun on herself. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Psychologists at Anna&#8217;s trial insisted that April&#8217;s mental stability was virtually nonexistent at the time she committed the murders, and that Annabelle Williams displayed none of those attributes. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Anna used everything she could in her defense. Her lawyer insisted that the carvings of the numbers in Latin, u-n-u-s, d-u-o, t-r-e-s, q-u-a-t-t-u-o-r, q-u-i-n-q-u-e, one, two, three, four, and five on the legs of the boys that April killed and then s-e-x, s-e-p-t-e-m, o-c-t-o, n-o-v-e-m, six, seven, eight, and nine on the legs of the boys that Anna killed showed that April was the one in charge. He felt it should have been proof enough that the spirit of April Worthen had, through that car, somehow, caused Annabelle Williams to commit those exact murders, with the exact carvings. Something she would not even know how to do. Anna did not know Latin, but April Worthen knew it because she herself went to a Catholic School. but it didn&#8217;t matter in the end, the mostly out of town jurors didn&#8217;t buy it, and she was convicted of all four murders, although they did come back with a murder two conviction instead of a one. I think it was the jury&#8217;s way of saying </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">we believe you, but how the hell could we admit it, we&#8217;d be laughing stock” and it&#8217;s true, they would have, worldwide I imagine. Yes, it&#8217;s much better to sacrifice </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><em><span style="font-weight:normal;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">one</span></span></em></span></span></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"> to save the multitudes wouldn&#8217;t you say.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">In her mind and in her heart she already got four life sentences, one for each boy. And they&#8217;ll say “she was lucky to have not gotten the death penalty.” </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Only the local judge knew this young girl had never before harmed so much as a fly. She was from a prominent family in the community. She received an unbelievable sentence of twenty years, she would serve about ten, and could even get by with about eight if she was very good. Everyone knew she would be. She was eighteen years old on January 4</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><sup><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">th</span></span></span></span></span></sup></span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"> the day of her sentencing. She would be between thirty-six, and thirty-eight years old when she was released from prison. Morgan still goes to visit Anna on the weekends. It&#8217;s kind of a ritual. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">                      THE END</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
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		<title>Part-10 &#8220;The Pink Cadillac&#8221;</title>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 25 Oct 2009 07:15:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[Part-10   “What is that?” Morgan asked. “It&#8217;s a card, from the cop, remember. I have a feeling we may need him again.” “So where to now?&#8221; &#8220;Now we go back to your house I want to check something on the computer.” Anna said. “You got it&#8230;” Morgan leaned back and pulled her shades down [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=203&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">Part-10</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What is that?” Morgan asked. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">It&#8217;s a card, from the cop, remember. I have a feeling we may need him again.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">So where to now?&#8221;</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">&#8220;Now we go back to your house I want to check something on the computer.” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">You got it&#8230;” Morgan leaned back and pulled her shades down as the wind blew through their hair. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">At the house the girls grabbed some tomato sandwiches from Morgans mom, and then straight to Morgan&#8217;s room they went, to try to find out what April Worthen&#8217;s address was. And they got it too, easy as pie. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Are we really going to go over there?” Morgan asked.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">You don&#8217;t have to if you don&#8217;t want to. I can go alone.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No, I got your back, I promise.” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Here we are.” Anna said as she put the car into park. The girls got out and walked up to the 1950&#8242;s ranch home. It was a very large home, and had plenty amenities. It had an over sized garage, and they noticed an in ground pool in the back when they came around the corner. There were no vehicles out front. Anna knocked on the door, and before long a woman answered the door. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I saw you pull up&#8230;you have her car! Your the ones who bought my daughters car?” she said in a strange, excited sort of whisper. She looked haggard, and worn. She had on her bath robe over a pair of sweatpants and a teeshirt at 4:30 in the afternoon. Her hair was pulled back, although it had fallen over some, and she was missing an earing. “I&#8217;m Rina, wont you please come in girls.” she said with a smile.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Did you girls know my April?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No mam, we came because we&#8230;Well we..”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">You found out what she did?” Rina said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yes, I&#8217;m so sorry!” Anna backtracked. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No, don&#8217;t be sorry about anything dear. It&#8217;s alright_ I lived it. There isn&#8217;t anything you could say that would ever shock me more than that did. So please feel free to speak freely here.” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Thank you. Um, we are so sorry for your loss. And well, you probably want to know why we&#8217;re here don&#8217;t you?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Well if there&#8217;s anything that I can help you with, shoot. Would you like some iced tea girls.” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No thanks..” Morgan said, as she sat on the sofa. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No, I&#8217;m fine.” Anna replied. “Okay here goes, I think your daughter has visited me. I think she&#8217;s still in that car, at times.” The woman sat down in the armchair she was standing next to. She was surprised at what she was hearing after all, and yet she didn&#8217;t look as if she didn&#8217;t believe Anna though. She looked towards the floor, and began to nod gently. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;ve felt her here too. It doesn&#8217;t surprise me that she&#8217;s still attached to that car either, she died in it, did you know that?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yes, we just found out actually.” Anna said. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">She was here a little while ago. She led me right to her hiding place in her room, the one where she kept her journal hidden so her father couldn&#8217;t read it. I never would read them. He&#8217;s not that way, he&#8217;s more possessive of everyone, and everything. Anna was at the top of that list.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Have you read it yet?” Morgan asked.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No, why is there something else I should know?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I have dreams sometimes.” Anna scooted in closer to Rina Worthen, and took her by the hands. “She shows me things from her life. She showed me someone coming in her room at night,” Rina&#8217;s eyes changed. “And they sit next to her on the bed and reach under the covers and rub on her legs.” Anna told the poor woman, and she began to weep. Anna put her arms around her.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">The three were surprised by the sound of the screen door slamming shut, as what could only be April&#8217;s brother coming in from the front porch. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Oh Jon, it&#8217;s only you sweetheart!” Rina said to her son, and he kissed her on the forehead. He briefly made eye contact with the two girls, and then disappeared like an alarmed wolf that went scurrying into the forest, at the mere sight of a human. (Great looking guy, but distant all the same.) the two girls thought. “I know how hard it must have been for you to come today. Thank you. I&#8217;ll definitely read the journal now, maybe she had something she needed to tell me after all.” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I think that you should, definitely read the journal.” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Well, we really should go now.” Morgan chimed in.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Would you like to see her room?” Rina asked.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Um, I guess she&#8217;s right, we should get going.” Anna said. The screen door slammed shut again, and this time it was Tom Worth himself, that came strutting in. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What the hell are you doin&#8217; here!?” he said to Anna. “You checkin&#8217; up on me!? You snoopin&#8217;!? Just who the hell do you think you are little girl!?” He came towards Anna, and all three stood up. Anna moved backwards around the coffee table towards Morgan. The ceiling fan began to flicker and sway, and the screen door slammed over and over again on it&#8217;s own.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Run!” Morgan said to Anna. “Just go!”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"> To Be Continued&#8230;</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"> </span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
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		<title>Part-9 &#8220;The Pink Cadillac&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/10/25/part-9-the-pink-cadillac/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 25 Oct 2009 05:44:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[To all my wonderful readers, and fans, thanks, and your the best.
Stay tuned for the final chapters of "The Pink Cadillac" by hot new author S.S.Hartman. Stay Scared!
<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=200&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><img class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-201" title="blackfrontmontecarlo" src="http://sshartman.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/blackfrontmontecarlo.jpg?w=150&#038;h=113" alt="blackfrontmontecarlo" width="150" height="113" />Part-9</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">Anna and Morgan followed the Sargent back to an area of mostly desks, and sat down with him at his own. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Now how can I help you Young ladies today?” He said as he looked down at his paperwork. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Well sir, we were wondering if you knew anything about April Worthen?” Anna said. The Sargent gave a bit of a crooked squint, as his eyes rose from the papers to young Anna&#8217;s face. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What&#8217;s that name you said?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">April Worthen..” Morgan said, backing up Anna.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Now why on earth would the two of you be in here askin&#8217; me &#8217;bout that girl? Surely the two of you know better than to come in here and try to prank me?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">No sir! I mean, we wouldn&#8217;t prank you sir.” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">We think we bought that chicks car is all. How could we find out if it is?” Morgan said. Anna elbowed her. She didn&#8217;t want him knowing about the car, not really, but too late now, she thought. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Well she owned a pink Cadillac, but it was destroyed when she went over that bridge at Shaw Lake. No body was real sure how it happened, but her father had found out what she&#8217;d been up to with murdering those college boys. Five of &#8216;em to be exact.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Why did she do it?” Morgan asked?</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Nobody really knows, she was troubled that&#8217;s all. Darn shame too, she was an honer role student from an upstanding family. She just snapped, not sure why, maybe a schizo. Strange thing is&#8230;” he leaned in, and spoke at a whisper. “These new killings are so similar, but that girls long gone. It&#8217;s gotta be a copy cat. But you girls be careful out there, most of these folks are young men, so don&#8217;t you trust anybody.” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Why would those jocks get into a car with a dude?” Morgan asked.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Well, I don&#8217;t know, but you just never know.” the Sargent replied. “Could be female copycat.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What makes you so sure it&#8217;s a copycat?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">Anna asked.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Same carvings, just new numbers. That Worthen girl went to an all Catholic girl school, Saint Michaels, you know the one over off of Wexler? Well, she carved numbers into her victims, labeling them, number one, two, three, and so on, all the way up to fifth and final one, only it was in Latin.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">And she learned it from the Catholic school!” announced Morgan, happy that she got it.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">You bet she did.” said the Sargent.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Sargent Finney, who were her parents?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">Anna asked.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Old Tom Worth is her daddy, and I forget her mothers name, but she&#8217;s a real sweet gal, quiet, stays to herself mostly. They have a boy too, he&#8217;s a senior this year. I see &#8216;em now and again. He drives a sweet car, a black, 2006, Chevrolet, Monte Carlo SS.” </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">That&#8217;s quite a mouthful.” Morgan said as she slouched back into the chair a bit more. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">That&#8217;s alright, now you girls really should get on outta here, I&#8217;ve got a ton of paperwork to get done and not much time left to do it in, that means working over, and I hate that. Besides that, nobody &#8217;round here gets any overtime lately anyway.” And a few detectives close enough to hear the Sargent laughed. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Just a minute, now Sargent about the car, you said that it was destroyed when she went over the bridge. So she was in the car, and it fell, and went down into the lake, and she drowned?” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Yes, that&#8217;s correct.” the Sargent replied.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">And as far as you know the car was trashed after that?” Anna asked him as he popped to pieces of hard candy into his over sized mouth.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Yep, I think so. Now I really do have to get back to work girls.” he juggled the candy and the words carefully.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">The two left the building, and back into the pink Cadillac, yep, (that they now know for a fact that someone died in), they went. They were uneasy to get in but they knew that April wasn&#8217;t trying to hurt them. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Anna tried to put the thoughts that she might be the new copycat killer out of her mind for now. She had to concentrate on figuring out why April really killed those young college sports jocks, and what it had to do with her, and the rest of the town. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">To Be Continued&#8230;</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
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		<title>Part-8 &#8220;The Pink Cadillac&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/10/25/part-8-the-pink-cadillac/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 25 Oct 2009 00:02:20 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[Stay tuned for the final chapters of "The Pink Cadillac! Stay Scared!<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=197&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">Part-8 </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"> </p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Morgan typed in the what Anna had asked her to, and then she watched the computer delete the letters one by one before her very eyes, completely by itself, as the paper she&#8217;d been writing on moved towards her just slightly as if a breeze blew it, but there was no window open. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;"><span style="font-weight:normal;">Of coarse it was the spirit of the girl hanging over the desk, looking desperate and impatient. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">So what do I type in then,” She looked down at her paper. “blond, seventeen year old, West Michaels student killed in car crash?” Morgan said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">And Pink Cadillac, put that in there somewhere.” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">You got it!” Morgan did as Anna had said, and then the screen popped up, with all of possible choices. Morgan read the first one. “Saint Michaels student killed in car crash, 17 yr old Apr&#8230;”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Click on that one!” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">But I thought it was West Michaels High that you saw in the dream?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Just try it Morgan! Trust me&#8230;” Morgan clicked on the link. “That&#8217;s her&#8230;” Anna whispered, as she knelt down by Morgan&#8217;s side. “April Worthen! Holy shi-it that&#8217;s her!” she laughed a little. Morgan looked at Anna because she never swore, and then she looked back at the screen.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">It says she was the daughter of the prominent local car salesman Tom Worth! Holy shit indeed!”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">That son of a bitch!” Anna blasted. “He&#8217;s the one Morgan I just know it. I felt it the first moment I met him. He&#8217;s really creepy.” she began to weep a bit.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Oh.. my.. God in heaven!” Morgan said as she scanned the screen.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What!?” Anna looked up from her hands.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Listen ..to.. this.. twenty-three year old April Worthen murdered five young men from her college campus in 2006.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">That was her?” Anna said as she looked at Morgan, puzzled. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">The one Billy was talking about?” Morgan said. “No way! That girl owned your car?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">She&#8217;s older than I thought she was, but I can see now that she had to relate to me about things that I knew of. I knew of West Michaels, &#8217;cause we play there, but it sounds like Saint Michaels, doesn&#8217;t it. And then there&#8217;s the age at which I see her, it&#8217;s our age.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">That&#8217;s easy, she&#8217;s relating to you again on your own level.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yep.” Anna concurred. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">April on the other hand was relieved, and for the time being she went away from the girls. They were on the right track, and there was someone she needed to see.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">So then why do you think she&#8217;s still here?” Morgan asked Anna. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I don&#8217;t know, but I have a feeling that whatever it is, it has something to do with that pig father of hers.” Anna told her.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Well, we have to find out, don&#8217;t we?” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yes, because I think that&#8217;s what she wants with me me at least. I have to help her.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Maybe she just wants people to know what her father did to her.” Morgan said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Perhaps, but I think there&#8217;s more to it than that. Is there someone at the pd that we could talk to. Does it have a name there, when they talk about the murders, to contact if have any information?” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Actually it does. It says Albert Finney, 555-2122, Greenwood PD. Are we really gonna go and see this cop? Talk about pigs&#8230;”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Stop it, and yes we have to Morgan, we have to know what happened!” Anna grabbed her arm and pulled. “No let&#8217;s get out of here.” She seemed clear in the car now, and that was a relief. They were beginning to realized how being in the car had made them act before. Suddenly Anna slammed on the brakes. Morgan flew forward and hit her head on the dash. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Owe, what the hell was that for?” she said. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Morgan, what if it&#8217;s me?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What if what&#8217;s you”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">What if I&#8217;m the new killer. What if she enters me, and then I go and do what she did. And I&#8217;m about to walk into the Greenwood police department, red handed.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">your retarded!” Morgan painfully managed to reply as she wiped her head of the blood that ran down her face.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">I&#8217;m serious Morgan.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">So am I, your being ridiculous. Now let&#8217;s go.” She looked at Anna. “We&#8217;re here, and I&#8217;m pissed now so let&#8217;s do this.” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Excuse us, do you know a Sargent Albert Finney?” Anna said to the officer behind the desk. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yep, sure do. Just a minute okay kid?” he said. The girls sat down on a nearby bench and awaited the Sargent. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">Yeah! Who&#8217;s lookin&#8217; for me?” A tall balding man with Sargent Albert P. Finney posted to the name badge of his shirt, replied. </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">We were&#8230;” Anna answered him. “We were looking for you.” </span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="font-style:normal;margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;">To Be Continued&#8230;</span></span></span></span></p>
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		<title>Part-7 &#8220;The Pink Cadillac&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://sshartman.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/part-7-the-pink-cadillac/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 24 Oct 2009 06:43:59 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>sshartman</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[Stay Tuned For the rest of "The Pink Cadilac" by S.S.Hartman<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=sshartman.wordpress.com&amp;blog=8963738&amp;post=194&amp;subd=sshartman&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Part-7</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"> </p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-style:normal;">The two boys took their last breath. She drove back to the house and she climbed back in through the window without being detected. She showered the blood off of herself as she seemed to be sleepwalking now, as if the entities energy was beginning to drain down, and whatever part of Anna was there, was asleep. Yet she was surely walking around and functioning at the same time. She began to fumble around in her drawers for her hair brush and Morgan awoke to the noise. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Anna? What are you do&#8217;un&#8217;?” Morgan said. Anna didn&#8217;t answer her once. She continued on, combing her hair. Morgan got up, and stood right next to her, amazed at what she saw her friend was sleepwalking, or so she thought, then Anna looked up, and at the mirror, right at herself. Morgan looked at the mirror, and Anna had green eyes, and they almost looked like they were glowing. Anna&#8217;s eyes were blue, bright blue, and you couldn&#8217;t miss them. Morgan had heard, with her own brown eyes, all her life about how Anna&#8217;s eye&#8217;s were so beautifully blue, and bla, bla, bla. She knew what color her eyes were, oh you bet, and it was really fucking weird in her opinion to be looking at green glowing ones, peering out from the dash board of her face. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">She didn&#8217;t say anything to her. She stood back and watched her instead. When she was finished grooming herself, and unlike Anna would groom herself, she would never have pulled her hair back at night she hated it that way, but her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. And she would never have wore sweat pants, and a tank top to bed either, she always wore a night gown. She had every night of her life. Morgan was flipped at this. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Anna got into bed, and slept. Morgan stood there amazed for the longest time before she finally went pee and got back into bed herself. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">The next day, Morgan chose her moment to discuss the glowing eyes incident with Anna, very carefully. And god knows that anytime they were in that car they may as well have been gelatin for all they understood of the real world. After hanging out with Billy and the guys, Anna and Morgan went back to Morgan&#8217;s house for the night.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">She tried to break it to her gently.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">I what!?” Anna implored. “Are you serious!?” Anna now remembered having strange dreams of a young girl her own age. She felt it had something to do with that car. She instantly could recall every single bit of the dreams that she had. She sat, and took down notes, of whatever came to her mind. Morgan helped when she would get up in mid thought and walk around the room as she described the images. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">The entire time, unbeknown to the two of them, the girl&#8217;s spirit was there in the room with them. Sitting in the chair when Anna would get up, and pacing the room right along with Anna feeding her images, and emotions. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">The lights flickered as she stood next to them_ she moved, but Anna and Morgan noticed the lights and stopped in their tracks. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">So she&#8217;s blond?” Morgan said, breaking the silence.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Yes.” Anna replied, as her eyes rolled from the lamp and back to Morgan.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">And she&#8217;s our age, or she was, like seventeen&#8230;ish. Is that right?”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Yes.”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">And she goes to West Michael&#8217;s High School?”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Yes.”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Is that it?”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">No, she was in a room, and someone came in and they were like rubbing on her leg. Morgan I get the feeling that she was like, molested or something. Thats what it feels like to me. And I think that however she died, she was falling off of something. She was in the car, I think, when it happened.”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Well that would make sense. So she&#8217;s trapped in the car then?” Morgan said.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Maybe not, maybe she&#8217;s entering me somehow.”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Your sure she owned this car?”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">I am.” Anna said.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">Then we should go and find the guy you bought the car from. He might have some info on who she was, then we could Google her name.” </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">You know what, I didn&#8217;t like that guy at all. I&#8217;m not going back there. Just look up teen killed in car crash or something. And check out her school.”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;">“<span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">You got it.” Morgan said as she sat down at her computer. </span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom:0;background:#ff8080;font-weight:normal;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><span style="background:#ff8080;"><span style="font-family:Copperplate Gothic Bold, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="font-style:normal;">To Be Continued&#8230;</span></span></span></span></span></p>
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