[Continued from THOSE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES. (Part II)]
“No…” was all Eliza could manage as she read the message. “NO!” she shrieked. The loss of her mother – the only one she could call family – and the mystery of the messages and the people behind them were too much for her to take.
“Who are you? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” she shouted in the empty garage and slumped to the floor, distraught.
It was morning again when Eliza opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep on the floor, crying.
The first thought that came to her on waking up was that all of it was just a nightmare but the painted wall proved her wrong. She look towards the chair where her mother was placed the day before.
The chair was now empty.
She sat up. What is happening? She was now involved in this ugly game. She knew they had taken her mother away and she was bent on finding who they were.
Why had they killed her mother? What did they have against her? Where was she now? Why did they take her away and where? Too many questions; no answers. She was done mourning. She now wanted justice.
“Good morning, Eliza… And welcome to our world.
Your mother cooperates well when dead.
May she rot in hell.”
“What do you want from me? Why did you kill her? WHO ARE YOU??”, she sent as a reply. But the number was blocked; the sending failed.
There was a strange idea that touched her and went away. Am I being watched? The perfect timing of the messages and the accuracy of their subject was enough to make her think. She looked around her, searched all corners but found nothing.
She got out of the garage and went straight to her mother’s library. Her mother had a habit of keeping daily journals, it was something she had practised as a child. “It helps me beat my solitude; I’m never alone.” she had told Eliza, smiling.
Oh mother! Please help me!
On the staircase she thought of calling the police. But it is too dangerous. They are too dangerous. And we don’t know where to look! She dragged herself upstairs and went into the library. She started with the mahogany desk and found the journals in the second drawer.
Eliza had never touched her mother’s journals before this day and so the thought of perusing the pages made her emotional. The first look of her mother’s handwriting and the memories came flooding back. Come back mama… please… she sobbed.
With misty eyes, she read the last and the latest entry of the journal. It said:
She was being watched? And what doubts? Her mother’s journal had only made the mystery more deep. More questions to find answers to… I’m lost!
[Continued in THOSE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES. (Part IV)]
I have a query. Do you think I’m stretching it a little too much? I don’t see an end to the story yet… I should have probably gone for NaNoWriMo instead of NaBloPoMo.
But anyway, what do you think? Is it okay if I post short parts or should I try to end it in two long ones??