Maylor Keee Short Story

“Good. Then this should go real quick.” Rosie scurried down the hall. The breakroom was to her left. She noticed Hexson leaned on the vending machine, where the stranger from earlier had stood. He waved his arms, attempting to get Rosie’s attention, but she ignored the detective. Rosie had other business. It was time to build up the green civilian, and then watch him crash to the ground.

"I heard some cops talking about it and when you start asking me those types of questions, I assumed that's what we were talking about."

“How can I forget when all you do is talk about it? Why do you care? I’m the one who had to worry about getting caught. What if someone recognized me?”

As she walks through the door after a long and exhausting day, Monee King is greeted with “Hey Mom!”, from her 4 beautiful teenage girls. She cooks an amazing dinner after cooking for others all day. They sit at the kitchen table and bow their heads in prayer. After a quiet “Amen” the table erupts in stories about each of the young girl's day. She listens and laughs while thinking “This wasn't easy but it was worth it”

Police car sirens wailed. Flashing lights spun in circles, causing faint blocks of blue and red to illuminate the dark alley. Taehyung’s cheek slammed against the cool metal roof of the police car. For a brief moment, stars danced in the corner of his vision and his mind buzzed with panic. Then again, that was only for a brief second. His partner in crime’s face soon aligned with his. Jimin smirked at Taehyung, even as his arms were tightly pinned back by another police officer.

"The cops didn't believe me when it happened and they won't believe me now," She rambles nervously, pacing again.

Brent Staples starts off his narrative right away by using objective details in his attention grabber “My first victim was a woman—white, well dressed, probably in her early twenties.” This gets the readers initial attention since he described the woman to us as if he were targeting her. Additionally he adds in that he was not intruding on her personally space, but “After a few more quick glimpses, she picked up her pace and was soon running in earnest. Within second she disappeared into a cross street.” Staples describes his personal experience to help make a point.

“Police?” her mother asks with a worried look on her face. “You're not in trouble, are you?”

She gave me empathy and I laughed on the inside-thinking how stupid this woman could be- she walked me to the policeman guarding the door that lead to the cells. The officer whispered something to the secretary that I couldn’t quite make-out, I ignored it and walked through the door as he held it open for me. We walked silently, watching the endless row of cells when we stopped and there sitting on the wooden bench, behind the metal bars of the jail cell. I faked tears as he carefully unlocked the cell door and let me walk in shutting it quickly, I hugged Clyde letting my fake tears soak his shirt. I whispered, “I brought you a gun, it’s in the hem of my dress.” I stealthily grabbed the small gun and as we held hands he grabbed it, putting it in a hidden hole in the pillow. We hugged again and he whispered “I’ll meet you at the car a mile away from

“John, what happened?” Officer Marks ask. I just keep crying and I hold Veronica’s head against my chest. An hour later they take Veronica into the ambulance. I just sit on the floor crying. “John, I need to take you in for questioning.” Officer Marks says. I get up and walk with him to the cop car. I get in the back and he

The 20-year-old police officer, Jimeleta, had no connection, but she cared for her best (and only) friend, Zacethine, so she cared for whoever her friend cared for. They were in a psychiatric hospital, because Zacethine’s husband, Ted, was freaking out after he witnessed a horrible murder that even the cops weren’t allowed to see until the cleanup crew came.

“I’m sorry to ask this again Ms.Fink, but could you please restate what happened the night of the murders?” I knew what they were doing. It didn’t take a mastermind to figure out that they are trying to pin the murders on me, anyone who had ever watched a crime show in their life would have caught on. “I got home from work, my mom was cooking in the kitchen, my dad was watching football in the living room, and my sister and brother were wrestling down the stairs. I hopped into the shower and began to sing, just as I always do. The yelling and screaming grew louder, but I just figured that mom and dad were fighting again. After I finished showering, to my disbelief my sister was lying dead, surrounded by her own blood, on the floor. A few steps and there was my brother, also dead. By then time had

He laid there, staring at the tv playing the news. It was about the shooting. I rushed to turn it off, blocking his view. He blinked at me, then smiled. “Hey, buddy.” I smiled back, crawling next to him and hugging him. Some happy tears stained our shirts as I held him. We laid there for a long time in just pure silence. Our minds were saying the unspoken words. “Why did it happen?” Travis said into the air. “It happened because--” I stopped short. Why did it happen? Travis stared up at me, waiting for my answer. “I-I don’t know.” my brow furrowed in confusion as I pondered. Silence overcame us again. Eventually, soft snores came from Travis. He had fallen asleep. I stared at the wall, still unable to sleep. A woman somewhere screamed for unknown reasons. That scream triggered a flashback in my

She is a telepath, meaning that she has the ability to read others minds. Not only can she read minds, but not even the best telepaths can read her mind, but she can read theirs when others can’t.

Finally, finally, the sirens stop. It’s so sudden, flooding the air with a moment of silence. My ears start to pick up the city noise again, faint and comforting in its normality. I hear footsteps behind my, and I turn to meet them. Two police officers are approaching me carefully, their guns drawn. What’s happening? Why do they look like they’re coming for me? I didn’t do anything. Questions flicker through my mind, none of them staying long enough for me to answer them.