It’s here, finally, and it’s short. That’s all I have to say about that really.
Title: Two Miles Later
Genre: Thriller
Dialogue: “911, what is your emergency?! Oh, it’s you …”
Technical: You should write the story from the perspective of someone watching a camera feed and relaying instructions.
Stay tuned for next week’s restrictions tomorrow. Hopefully this one will get us back onto a weekly cycle.
Two Miles Later
“Put it down,” he said, as the figure on the screen picked up the phone. “Put it down or you will regret it.”
“Fuck you,” said the figure, as he dialled a number.
He watched as the figure spoke into the phone, explaining that he was trapped in a house with no way to get out, that his friends were all dead and there was some crazy chainsaw-wielding maniac stalking him. He asked for help and said that someone was watching him, speaking to him, threatening him, and he didn’t know who or why. And then the phone line cut, as expected, and the figure smashed the phone down before hurrying from the room.
Calmly rising from his seat, he took his eyes off the screen and checked the code sent down from upstairs before he picked up his own phone and dialled.
“911, what is your emergency?! Oh, it’s you …”
He didn’t like the disrespectful tone, but chose to ignore it.
“Two miles later,” he said.
There was an extended pause.
“Accommodated, sir. The call will be ignored.”
He nodded to himself and hung up. Checking the screens, he dialled another number.
The phone was answered with a whining roar and a garbled voice.
“Rupret?” he said. “Rupret! I can’t hear you over that fucking chainsaw!”
“Sorry, sir,” said Rupret, as the roar ceased.
“He’s on the second floor. Make him suffer.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up again and returned his attention to the screens, leaning back in his chair to enjoy the show.