LogBook

Vancouver, Washington

From all the strange gifts Samuel has received over the years from family and friends, an envelope that contained a letter and a sum of $20,000 in cash left abandoned by the door to only find the lonesome envelope and nothing else. Not even a person in sight walking away from his house, and Samuel thought that was the cherry on top of strange coincidences. He was glad his wife and two daughters were off on vacation with their grandmother and brother-in-law down at Long Beach, as Samuel was left behind to take care of the house for the weekend. Of course, he wanted to go but had stacks of paperwork to grade by High school students that barely look-up from their phone screens waiting for his lecture to end. He closed the door and went back inside still holding the envelope with the letter and cash. He opened it reaching for the Letter first.

An hour passed, and Samuel sat on the edge of his bed with raging thoughts of unanswered questions still holding the open letter in his hand. He could not believe what it contained and couldn't decide if it was a joke or not. It read:

Hello, Samuel

You're wondering what the money is for and how you're one of the few lucky fellows to retrieve such a sum. Of course, there's a catch. There is always a catch when it comes to money. If you wish to keep this sum you must murder someone within 24 hours or else, you and your family will be killed. Use the cash to get tools for the deed. It's your choice.

Who wrote this? Is Samuel's first question and, of course, he thought it was some cruel joke from either his friends or students. But was it a prank or someone was seriously watching his every move? But that would mean Samuel had to saw someone walk away from his house. If the person drove, he sure did drive something quiet, but still, he would have seen a vehicle drive away and it was in the middle of the afternoon, with sunlight glaring down. Samuel contemplated taking this letter seriously or throw the letter in the trash and keep the sum of money so he can buy new wheels and forget who's written the letter. Before Sam decided to, he hears another knock on the door. He jumped like a puppy and investigated only to find an envelope next to a small black notebook. He picked up the envelope and the notebook scouting his front yard, with no activity insight. Not a person, nor a vehicle. He closed the door softly and opened the letter, it read:

I'm Serious. After your done the deed, write the name of your victim in the notebook.

He opened the book to see a logbook format with names he never heard of and stopped on the last entry. By the names seemed to be their birthday and- What seems to be the date of their death. The last victim was named Kate Belfort, age 27. Killed on August 12th, 2020 5:38 Pm. That was last week. There wasn't any other information than that. There wasn't any information where Kate lived, nor how she died, or by whom did the deed as the person wrote it in the letter. Was Samuel scared? Yes. Scared of what? A random ransom letter that could be someone's sick joke. But what convince him otherwise was the drip of what appeared to be blood on the right corner of the letter. He taps his finger on the drip lightly and felt that it was recently fresh. Maybe it was the person writing them using his/her blood to make it more convincing? Samuel heard his phone ringing and picked it up, and saw it was his wife.

"Yeah, hello?" Samuel said with fake excitement. "Samuel...?" It wasn't the voice of his optimistic wife that always called. Her voice was different. She whispered and felt troubled by her silence. "What is it?" He asked concerned, scouting the neighborhood by the living room window. Believing his being watched. "She...She..." She stuttered. "She What?! spit it out women!" of course, Samuel didn't mean to burst at his wife, but under the circumstances, he needed to. He was scared nothing more, nothing less.

"Grandma Helen...she's dead..." Samuel's blood ran cold, stocked with gooseflesh over his body. "Are you Sure?" He said coldly holding the recent letter, staring at the drop of blood. "Yes, we were walking among the beach while she was at the hotel taking a nap. Samuel when we came back..." Dead silence. Sometimes silence was good, it was needed. But this was something worse. "What happened" She was choking on her own blood, they don't know who've..." Samuel Shivered in fear, looking outside the window. Hoping no one was watching. "What?" what question was that Samuel thought, fearing what he was already thinking. "She was Murdered...someone broke in the room." She broke into tears while on the phone, while Samuel stood there baffled and sweating in disbelief. No, it was someone else Samuel thought, not the person giving him these letters. He looked at the letter with the envelope that came with it and noticed something popped out. Both hands and arms quivered like noodles, thing it was another letter. It wasn't cash either. It was photograph of something he couldn't tell at first.

It was a picture of Grandma Helen.

It wasn't like the other pictures of her that they've took for year with her old smile. No, this wasn't like that. The picture showed Helen on her bed that was close to the back patio that viewed the beach, with sun shining inside as she laid dead and what appeared to be a phone wire wrapped around her tender neck. Her neck puffed with purple bruises and blood coming out of her mouth, with her teeth in a glass of water still. Samuel couldn't believe that the picture was real. How could it be? How could a person giving him ransom letters at the same time have killed her under an hour? It wasn't possible. He turned the picture over finding words that read:

Believe me now? This could be you next...

He dropped the picture screaming out realizing he was still on the phone with his wife crying. Shocked by what's happening. "It isn't possible!" Samuel roared as he fell down onto his hardwood floor, trembling with fear.

"What's wrong?" She asked as the phone was on the floor next to him. Breathing heavily rationalizing the situation and picked up the phone."Nothing. I got spooked by a crow outside," he relaxes his breath. "I'm sorry, i would be jumpy as well, i suppose." Samuel agreed and than asked, "When are you heading back home?" It was silenet again. "Tomorrow." That's good, Samuel thought."Okay, i got to go i'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He hung up without saying goodbye sitting there, knowing what he must do.

Night has fallen, and the streetlights turned on with Samuel driving through the streets of his neighborhood, finding a victim to spare himself death. His hands temble behind the wheel passing people walking by. Last people he saw were teenagers laughing, giggling with no care in the world. I can't do this, he thought. But what about him and the rest of his family? He didn't want him and them ending like grandma Helen did. Eariler, he picked up duct tape, some gasoline from his garage, a pistol from his closet, and a pair of matches. Of course, he didn't want to kill someone outside where the world could see, but maybe the person didn't care if he was caught attempting cold blood murder. maybe that was the case. Another hour went by, and he found someone that seemed to live by himself taking out the trash when the stars began to bloom under the night sky. He was old probarly in his sixies with no ring on his fingers, so, he was alone. Samuel waited for another minute or so before going up to the man's house. He walked with his supplies quietly across the street and was hesitant to knock on the door, but the door itself was unlocked. He knocked the old man to sleep when he entered his house right after and ducts tape him to a chair, making sure he wasn't able to escape his demise. Of course, he wanted to do this as the old man was asleep unaware what's happening. He searched the house finding his wallet, revealing his name, age, and date of birth. All the he needed. His name was Isaac Moore, age 67, and was born on March 15th, 1953. He looked furthermore into the house, seeing pictures of Isaac's life. There was a picture of what appeared to be his family, and possible wife next to him. He had a ring in that picture. Samuel had enough scouting around this poor man house, feeling sorry he had to be the reason that his story ends here. He poured the gasoline everywhere in the house and Isaac still sleeping, knowing the flames would absorb him. Samuel threw the can aside and walked towards the door with the gas leading outside. He lit the match threw it, watching the flames burst out, glances at the house for the last time. knowing Isaac's unfair death. He didn't want to kill him like this, Samuel wanted to shoot him. Make it quick. But knowing who've wrote him those letters and killed grandma Helen wanted to make it vicious and wouldn't want it any other way.

As the flames grow brighter Samuel walked away to his car, hearing Isaac's screams in terror. The next door neighbors turned their lights on and possibly called 9-11, as Samuel already left the scene driving away watching the flames behind him viciously grow, with smoke clouding the night skies.

San Francisco, Three weeks later...

Hannah lived by herself in her studio apartment and heard someone knock on the door. Of course, she opened it to find only and envelope and a small black notebook laying on the lonesome floor. She picked them up and immediately opens the book, and turns to the last pages seeing different names; Last named enter was:

Isaac Moore, Age: 67 March 15th, 1953. August 22nd, 7:30 pm.