Writing for Fun
May 2017
M25 - Sue Barker
Sam had just moved to Leeds; he knew no-one there and even better no-one knew him. He had rented a bedsit; everything had seen better days, so he had no worries that a nosy landlord would be bothering him.
Sam was vegging out and mindlessly gazing around the room. It had a slight smell of damp and the curtains were hanging off the end of the curtain pole. The sofa he was sitting on was uncomfortable and sagged in the middle; it had so many unidentifiable stains that Sam could relax, and whatever got spilt on it would just merge with the rest.
It was 5 o'clock and he hadn't left his room yet today. He was waiting.
There was a loud clatter and the newspaper dropped to the floor. Sam had been anticipating the arrival of the Yorkshire Evening Post all day. He rushed to the door and picked the paper up, a rush of excitement flowed over his body.
Sitting at his chipped Formica table he flicked through the pages. No, it wasn't there, but it was Wednesday and that was the only day it would appear. He counted to ten, as he had been taught, and controlled his breathing. That was better; he started again at the beginning and slowly scanned each page. Oh there it was on page 9, he'd just missed it in his rush.
A slow grin spread across his rather plain face, the excitement he now felt caused an unattractive flush and rash to cover his neck, clashing with his thin red hair, but there it was; it seemed to zoom off the page and hit him squarely between his myopic pale blue eyes.
He read it aloud. M25, good looking, own car, recently moved to town seeks F20 – 25 must have GSOH and enjoy rambling and climbing. If interested in friendship/romance Please contact Sam on 07793356712. Well now all he had to do was wait and see.
On Friday Sam received a call, the young lady introduced herself as Esme and said she loved walking and perhaps they could meet. They arranged to meet in the Ferret and Whistle in the nearest village. Esme said she was a petite blonde and would wear a pink scarf so that he could recognise her. Sam licked his lips in anticipation. He described himself as a red head resembling Tom Hardy and would be wearing a brown leather jacket.
Sunday arrived and Sam was early; he sat nursing a pint of Old Hooky. His eyes were sashaying backwards and forwards to the door every time it opened. She was ten minutes late, maybe she wasn't coming. His head started to throb, it mustn't be like last time he thought. Keep positive, his brain told him, it's too early to get agitated.
Finally the door opened and a woman came through the door, was this Esme? She looked a bit older than 25 he mused, but then he certainly didn't look like Tom Hardy. She glanced over and then she approached. 'Are you Sam?' she asked hesitantly.
'I am indeed,' he replied. She sat down and they enjoyed a chat and a drink for an hour. They discovered that they were both quite shy and didn't make friends easily, that's why they hoped that the lonely hearts column would help them meet like-minded people. Then Sam suggested they went for a ramble in the country park he had noticed earlier. Off they set, two sets of footprints trudged through the muddy park. Esme wasn't to know that only one pair of footprints would return. Sam felt the sexual urge soar through his body as he strangled Esme with her own scarf. The life left her eyes. To Sam she looked beautiful.
Two weeks later Sam was sitting in another anonymous bedsit, the latest issue of Gloucestershire Live had just arrived. There it was page 11 – M25 seeks . . . It was always the same and would remain so, same story different location, there was always someone seeking love and there was always Sam seeking pleasure – the satisfaction of the kill. They hadn't caught him yet, and he prayed they never would.