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“What will you do next?” he wondered, eying his prey as they both turned a corner and headed straight into an open space, exactly as he had planned.

“That’s always confusing, space.” He whispered to himself, excited at his own thoughtfulness.

“I’ll let you catch your breath” he continued with a smirk. He loved making them comfortable, to catch their breath, to think they’ve lost him. And like always, he waited, before throwing something far in the distance.

“What will you do next?” he wondered again, excitement shining through his eyes. Then he waited patiently. The next few seconds mattered.

Where they would catch their breath, and their flight and flight hormones would start to burn out. Another second as the ache starts settling in their muscles before he’d move again.

Slowly he moved. His shadow preceding the sound of his slow firm steps.

He liked dramatics too. Like firmly planting his foot, so the sound reverberated through the corridors and the paved floor, jump starting their senses and glands. This was his moment. The movie scene, he had rehearsed to perfection. He was the director, writer, producer, and actor.

Nothing could go wrong.

He saw them dash into the first open door next to him, he walked slowly towards it.

He had sealed the other end earlier.

He’d dash at the end. Cackling like a mad man.

But as he quickened his pace and slammed through the door, something caught his eyes. Something that shouldn’t have been there.

And all was chaos.

There were more than two of them. They were already climbing the drawer and then they would be on the shelf. And there was an opening he did not remember leaving at the far end.

He hadn’t prepared for this. It caught him by surprise, and as his self failed him with an impromptu comeback, he felt cheated. And as the writer, the producer, the director, and the actor fell back into primordial chaos, a flurry of anger and panic erupted.

He rushed towards them, pounding his feet into the ground, his weapon flailing, before he smashed his balled left hand on the shelf.

The sounds reverberated like a cannon fire.

All was still.

The earth quaked as he stomped towards them like a mad man.

“Aaargh!!” He shouted

Swinging the weapon with all his might, face flushed with menace and anger. He was certain he had crushed the first’s skull. He saw the two other paralyzed with fear; he’d come back to them later. The third was fleeing!

That made his blood boil.


Went the slipper, missing the cockroach.

“Roaches,” he scoffed and turned towards the other two.

Genre Psychological, Story 5