The night stalker

Nathalie sat staring out the window as the snowflakes danced back and forth in the late November wind. How can they not sense her turmoil, her disappointment that Elizabeth Brighton, owner of Brighton Books had cancelled their meeting again, this was the third one this month. Nath had already written two books and had barely made enough to pay her bills.

The publishers had been so excited about her prospects that over confidence had now left her panicking. But not for long. Grabbing her coat and boots, she silently exited her apartment. Snow covered everything and stars twinkled down on snowmen as kids threw early evening snowballs at each other. A picture perfect holiday postcard moment.

Homes and businesses were lit up and brimming with holiday cheer, but not 218 Richview Avenue. I parked some distance away and walked swiftly through the double doors. There they were, the snakes; meeting in full swing without me. I crept quietly to the door, listening as they laughed and made plans for the movie deals on my books. Apparently I had not read the fine print...ha ha ha. Cheers...champagne glasses clinking.

I hurried back outside as the meeting ended...and waited.

I grabbed her as she passed by the snow-covered dumpster. A light flashed bright, electricity crackled and bulbs dimmed.

We emerged, me as Elizabeth Brighton and her as Nathalie Forster. She fell backwards in the snow, clearly confused.

"How do you say it on your planet? See how you like being me bitch"!