Too Late To Tell
A short story
The familiar, shrill doorbell echoed throughout her home. The sound formed a hand that yanked her from her slumber, back into reality. A lonely world she lived in, with the man she regarded as a friend outside her door. She always thought he was the closest thing she had to a family.
Sauntering towards the wooden entrance of her little home, she spared a glance to the mirror she had positioned in her living room months ago. Her dishevelled hair would evidently show what she had been up to for the last hour.
“Karl,” she greeted as she opened the door.
“Evening, Zoe,” he responded as he searched his bag for a copy of the most recent newspaper. He visits daily with the same routine.
The light of her front porch distinctly reflects the hair on Karl´s head. It was a hazel brown that is not at all common in the streets of their town. There were only a few white strands concealed beneath, a shock for someone his age. Paired with his rare chocolate brown eyes, it was no surprise he stood out from many.
Zoe never realised how beautiful hazel hair was until it was illuminated on his head. It was difficult to notice things seen too frequently.
“How was your day?” Zoe asked.
“Oh, just the normal.”
“Right. Have you found who you were looking for?” It was a conversation they had a while ago. Karl was determined to find his only relative left in the vast world, then approach without sounding like a man without sanity. Zoe had laughed when he told her of a plan he had to simply barge in when he found who he was so keen to find.
“Yes, actually. I have,” Karl responded, a wide grin as he passed a copy of the latest printed newspaper.
The reply made her raise an eyebrow, but he interrupted before she could utter a word. “You have to be careful.”
Puzzled, Zoe questioned, “Why is that?”
All Karl did to answer was gesture at the newspaper she held in her palms.
“Don’t be too late to tell,” was the day’s headline, accompanied by a large picture of a man. Yet another serial killer in their wretched town.
A sigh escaped Zoe’s lips. “This happens every other week. They will get caught eventually.”
“They get caught after a few victims. Victims that could potentially be you if you aren’t careful enough.” Karl sounded as if he were lecturing his child. Like the father she wished she had.
“Yes, yes. I got it.” She waved him off dismissively.
There was a few seconds of silence before Karl said, “There is something — ”
“Can you tell me tomorrow?” Zoe asked sheepishly. “You’ll be here, right? I am exhausted.”
It took a moment of hesitation before Karl nodded. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”
He did not arrive the next day.
Instead, it was a stranger who rang the doorbell to deliver the day's newspaper. Zoe felt perplexity crawl up her spine.
“Where’s Karl?” she asked as politely as she could muster. “He’s the previous man on the job.”
There was a frown on the stranger’s face as he gestured to the newspaper. It was similar to how Karl did it a night before.
On the most recent news was the face of Karl, with his distinct features. Zoe felt her heart plummet as she skimmed the headline.
He was labelled the last victim of the town’s most recent murderer.
Her friend. Gone. The sudden revelation of it almost knocked her from standing. Her hands shook as she continued reading the newspaper, not wanting to believe a word.
“Thanks,” she managed to say to the stranger before slamming shut the door. The word, to her dismay, cracked with the emotion that tugged on her chest.
Hot tears streamed like a waterfall down her face as she stared across the room to her mirror. Staring back at her was a girl with rare hazel hair and chocolate eyes.
