The Catalyst: No too long ago, I saw someone walking through the corridor at work, crying on their mobile phone. So I got to thinking...
The Story: "Yes, I understand," she said, covering her face as she walked past a workmate in the hallway. He looked at her but said nothing and walked on. The tears burned down her face. "I'll be there."
"Damn right you will," said the voice on the other end of the line. "For, if you are not, you shall not see your husband again."
The line went dead and she was left hanging there, holding onto the phone. She leaned against a nearby wall and collected herself, wiping her tears away on her sleeve. No police, he'd said. They always said that in the movies. She'd always screamed at the characters that didn't call the police, or turn on the light in a dark room in a horror flick.
She looked down at her phone and pressed the "emergency call" button and dialed 000. A bored sounding operator spoke down the line.
"Hello triple zero, what is your emergency?"
She told her everything. The man, her husband, the demands - everything.
After work she went to the mailbox on the corner of Kent and Broadway that the man on the other end of the phone had told her to go to. She waited until 6pm like she'd said she would. A black van pulled up, screeched to a halt and threw a brown box at her feet and sped off.
"Wait!" she screamed. "Wait! Where is he?!"
A police car, sirens wailing, zoomed after the van.
She looked at the box at her feet. She knew this part in the movie. She could smell the blood.