The Very Creatively Titled Story

Hello muggles! You’re probably wondering what this post is about, well we’ll tell you. It’s the first part of our twelve part story that we are going to be posting over the next few months. So let’s get started! ~Savy and Ally

Part 1: The Note

The rain pounded on the windshield, as they drove down the twisty road. They were going to be late picking up their two-year-old daughter, Ava, from Zoey’s house. Suddenly, headlights appeared behind them. The headlights grew closer, at an alarming rate. Ross tried to pull over, and allow the other driver to pass, but the driver only sped up. Before Ross could reach the side of the road the driver had caught up to them, and rammed into the side of their small car. The car began rolling, and she saw Ross’s head bang against the window. Then blackness closed in.

Emily Stetson awoke with a scream. It was the recurring dream, the dream that had haunted her frequently for the past three years, ever since the accident that had killed Ross. The police had never exactly figured out why the truck had run them off the road. They believed the driver had been drunk. Emily wasn’t so sure. She suspected that it was linked to an incident her husband had gotten in the middle of the day before the accident. Ross had seen a man striking a woman near the river, and had tried to intervene, but the man had shoved him off. He had told Ross to mind his own business. The next day the woman had been found dead in the river. Most thought it was an accident, but Ross had known better. He had found out about the woman five-minutes before they needed to get Ava. Ross was going to drive to the police station after they picked Ava up, but he had never made it. Emily had told the police everything she knew about the man at the river, but she didn’t have a description, and all her information was second hand. She had no way of knowing for sure if there was a connection between the two murders, which made her pain and frustration all the worse. She still suffered from these awful nightmares, three years later.

Emily sighed, and rolled over to look at the clock. It was 4:30 am, she had to be at the coffee shop at 7:00 anyway, she might as well get up. She padded into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot. She sat at the table with a bowl of cereal, her Bible, a pen, and paper. She was working on a new book. She had multiple published novels. Emily didn’t make a fortune with her writing career, but along with her work at the coffee shop, it helped pay the bills. She wrote and read her Bible for the next hour, and was about to go take a shower, when she heard-

“Mommy?” Ava stood in the doorway, sleepy eyed and rumpled. Her dark brown curls sticking out in all directions and her princess pajamas all wrinkly.

“Morning, pumpkin.” Emily held her arms out to the little girl, and the five-year-old gladly accepted the snuggles. They sat like this for the next 10-minutes, before Emily finally said, “I need to go shower, honey. How about I turn on a My Little Pony movie for you?” Ava nodded, and Emily carried her into the living room and set her on the sofa.

“Yeah, My Little Pony. But not the one with the pink cover.”

“How about the purple one?”

“Yeah, the purple one because that’s the one with the cloud castle in it.” Ava mumbled sleepily. Where’s Uncle Sam?” she had her thumb in her mouth, and was looking adorable.

“He’s still sleeping, you know how he is in the morning.” Her 28-year-old twin brother lived with them. He seriously needed to get a life or a wife, or both. He worked as a part-time police officer, which was productive, but spent all his free time working on his stupid pickup truck. Ava had Sam wrapped around her little finger, and outside of Emily, he was her favorite person.

“I’m gonna go wake him up!” Ava had a sudden burst of energy and attempted to jump out of Emily’s arms.

“Oh, no you don’t, little stinker!” Emily scooped up her little daughter and ferociously tickled her tummy. After several minutes of laughing hysterically, Emily turned on the TV for Ava and went to take a shower. She needed to be at work in an hour.


   Emily opened the shop at 7:00, and by 8:00 it was bustling with customers. Emily hummed as she delivered cups of coffee to tables and swept the floor. At 8:05 her favorite customer, Professor Henry Fitzwilliam, walked through the door. He headed straight for his favorite table, it was in the right hand corner of the shop, directly in front of a large window. Just like clockwork. It had been this way for the past three years. The Professor was retired, and a bit eccentric. Okay, a lot eccentric, but she loved him anyway.  He had wild grey hair, bushy eyebrows, tired blue eyes, and was shorter than Emily. He always wore a red, silk vest, black slacks, and a pocket watch.

“Your usual, Professor?”

“Yes, please.”

He always ordered a large black coffee.  She brought him his coffee and tried to make small talk.

“What are you doing this week, Professor?” He stared at her blankly for a moment before answering.

“Teaching my class like I always do, silly goose.” Poor Professor! He often forgot he was retired. They talked for another few minutes before she went back to her work. The rest of the day passed in a normal fashion, and by the time they closed at 5:00 pm, she was exhausted.


   Emily strolled to her car, while enjoying the feel of the breeze teasing her short, wavy brown hair. She dug into her purse for her keys, and eventually found them under a pile of old lipstick, bottled hand sanitizer, face wipes, and crushed crackers. Right as she pulled them out her friend, Zoey Stacy, rode up on her bike.  Zoey had an adorable pert nose, beautiful red curls, bright green eyes, and a multitude of freckles. She was tall and slim. Zoey and Emily were like sisters.

“Hey, Em, what you doing?” Zoey asked, in her usual, bubbly tone.

“Hi, Zoey! I’m just about to pick Ava up from daycare.”

“I’m glad I ran into you, I’ve been wondering if you want to go out for sandwiches with me a week from Friday, after I get off work. A girls night out, of sorts.” Zoey was talking in her giddy, slightly high-pitched voice. This was the: My-idea-is-absolutely-genius-and-I-am-not-going-to-let-you-leave-my-presence-until-I-convince-you-that-it-is-too voice.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. What would I do with Ava? The daycare’s not open in the evenings.” Emily sounded skeptical.

“Why don’t you leave her with Sam?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You don’t know my brother like I do.”

“It will be fine, you worry too much. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll be there Friday, shall we say 6:00?”

“That would be great. See you then!” And with that she was off. Emily turned back to her car, but paused when she saw the paper. It was a note. She picked up and read. It held four simple words, “You’re a dead woman.”



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