Fear The Bald Man
She sat on the edge of the bed covered in blood. Next to her lay a man split open from his throat down to his crotch. Already the police were there taking photographs of the bloody murder and closing down the crime scene. Detective Franks stood above her.
“Miss? I’m told your name is Mary. Can I call you that? Can you hear me? Why did you kill him?” he asked her in the hopes of getting a response from the almost catatonic woman.
“I didn’t kill him. It was The Bald Man.” Mary replied while still staring at the wall in front of her.
“The Bald Man?” asked Franks. She unexpectedly looked up at him.
“You’ve never heard of The Bald Man?”
“No I’m afraid not.”
“He’s not of this world. He can slide through walls and no where is safe from him. Once you’re his target, there is nothing you can do to escape his judgement.” Mary informed him.
“Yes he judges everyone he sees, and if they’re not worthy enough in his eyes he follows them, and when he finally has them he cuts them open and eats their insides.”
“I see. The problem I have is the only prints we’ve found belong to you and the victim here. The bloody knife on the floor has your fingerprints.” Franks told her.
“The Bald Man has no prints.” she replied.
“I had to use that knife to defend myself. The Bald Man doesn’t need a knife. His fingernails can grow out and they’re as sharp as razor blades. That’s how he cut open Justin.”
“Well we’re going to have to take you in as you’re the only suspect we have.” Franks declared. Mary looked up at him with her dark eyes.
“The Bald Man is coming for you too.”
This was written with the prompt The Bald Man provided by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver Prompt #315.
©️2021 Joanne Fisher