I knew I would be questioned. I knew I would be one of the main suspects.
I am Matt’s sister. Yes, that Matt―the high-school kid who got beaten up, humiliated, and urinated on by the thugs who hung out with his so-called girlfriend, Pamela. And the Internet saw it live. It became all too clear that she was the one who set the whole thing up. Just for the fun of it.
So Pamela had to go.
Of course, Matt would be the number one suspect. But he had an alibi. He was at his chess club, where he was in plain sight when the murder took place.
And I was in my room the whole night. My parents can vouch for that as they never saw me leave.
Only I did.
At 7:30 p.m. on Halloween, I carefully opened my bedroom door, crept downstairs as quietly as I could, and slipped out of the house through the garage.
Then I jogged in my costume―a black shirt, black baggy pants, and gloves, with a backpack containing my raven mask and murder weapon, and a small flashlight in my hand, to David’s Farm and its haunted mega-maze.
Some distance from the entrance, I put on my mask and, cash in hand, proceeded to the register.
Since Pamela could never keep her mouth shut, the whole school knew what she was up to. We all knew that she and her friends visited the corn mega-maze at David’s Farm every Halloween. The maze was known for having actors in scary costumes jumping out of dark corners to frighten the visitors. Perfect for my plan.
The murder weapon created somewhat of a dilemma. It had to be quiet and efficient. Something like an ice pick. Better yet—a carving fork. It gives you a better grip, and with two sharp ends, you are less likely to miss.
So, there I was, in my black baggy clothes and black raven mask, strolling through the maze, looking for Pamela and those losers she called friends. From time to time, I would pretend to be a part of other groups. If it came to it, nobody could tell later if the raven was alone or with his friends. Or if the raven was a man or a woman. The less accurately people could describe me, the better.
Finally, I saw Pamela. She looked like she spent a lot on her witch costume. Trotting behind her were a pig, a butcher, and a raven. Yes, another raven. Not a coincidence. Pamela and her thugs showed up at school on the Friday before Halloween in their costumes. I assumed they would wear them again on Halloween Sunday. I was right.
So on Friday night, I went to the store and bought a raven mask, identical to the one thug number three was wearing. He was closest to my size.
I climbed on one of the observation posts to get a better view of the maze. Then the fireworks began, and I smiled. I shimmied down the post and cut through the maze, then waited. I peeked through the corn. The pig was coming, followed by the butcher, then Pamela and the raven. I had to find a way to distract Pamela and separate her from the rest. I squeezed the carving fork.
Suddenly, two zombies appeared on the path in front of the pig and started to walk towards him, moaning, stumbling, and looking for brains to eat. This delighted the pig, the butcher, and the raven, and they rushed forward and waved their hands in front of the zombies. I could feel Pamela’s eyes rolling. The zombies tried to push past the group.
Pamela fell behind as the others turned the corner.
I looked around. Nobody was coming. I emerged from the maze behind Pamela, grabbed her in a stranglehold, and thrust the carving fork into the side of her neck. She tried to scream, but only a faint gurgling sound came out. Then she was quiet. I dragged her to the side as far away from the path as possible, slipped the carving fork into a Ziploc bag inside my backpack, and got the hell out of there.
Once on the street, I took off the raven mask, tucked it into my backpack, and started jogging towards the nearest Halloween store.
The safest way to get rid of unwanted clothes is to return them to the store without officially returning them.
After I put the raven mask on again before entering the store, I headed to the changing room. There, I took off the mask and my black costume, inspected them for blood stains, then changed into a pair of jeans, a black hoodie, and black baseball cap. When the lady who was supervising the changing rooms stepped away, I put the black costume and mask back on the rack, then headed to the family bathroom.
After locking the door behind me, I took out a small bottle of bleach, cleaned the carving fork and the Ziploc bag and tossed them in the trash. Then I piled a few paper towels on the top and left the bathroom.
“How did it go?” asked my brother after I got home.
“Judge for yourself!”
I handed him my little camera watch. My brother worked hard all night but finished the job perfectly.
The following day arrived with the news of Pamela’s murder, and her friend, the raven, being charged after posting a short clip of the murder online. The footage only showed Pamela’s dying body contorted on the ground and a quick second of somebody in a raven mask, but this was enough for the DA.
“How about a freak accident for the other two?” I asked Matt after he switched off the news channel.
“Why the hell not?” Matt replied, a warm smile lighting up his face.
About the author:
Milkana N. Mingels was born in Bulgaria and currently lives in Massachusetts. She is the author of the Tales from the Mountain of Perun duology. Visit her online at https://twitter.com/MilkanaMingels and https://www.facebook.com/Milkana-N-Mingels-1742875452649567/
Free flash fiction on the first and third weeks of the month.