The Boutique Murder

I worked next to a charming little boutique at a sandwich and pizza shop. The boutique was owned by two elderly women who were friends since their youth. Their shop was filled with handmade quilts, refurbished vintage furniture, and cute little trinkets as boutiques tend to have. The old ladies were sweet and generally reserved, and every now and then would order pizza or a sandwich from the pizza place. One particular evening, one of them came by and ordered a sandwich, then went back to the shop next door to await its delivery. I got caught up talking to a couple of detectives who had stopped by for a quick bite while investigating a recent nearby murder, and by the time I wrapped up with them, I realized I hadn’t confirmed the old woman’s order yet.

Before putting in the order I stopped next door to double check with her. But it was eerily empty and a silence hung in the air in the usually cheerful store. I had just seen her walk in not five minutes before. I called out and walked through the store slowly, feeling a chill crawl up my spine. Something wasn’t right. I descended to the lower level where the quilts were kept, amid scraps of quilting material and unfinished old furniture. My head began to spin as I became witness to the horrific scene.

I found both old women with the back of their heads smashed into furniture, blood sprayed everywhere. But this wasn’t even the worst part. They were still alive, and they looked up at me, their faces gone. I could see their faces on the floor next to them, as if they had been peeled off. All that was left was red gashes where their eyes had once been and an open hole for a mouth. My heart sank into my stomach. Someone had intentionally done this. As I fumbled for my phone to contact the police, I heard a creaking upstairs. Someone was here. Whoever did this was still here and I was trapped in the basement with only one way out. The old ladies' mutilated faces pleaded out to me for help. They couldn’t speak. A need to save myself in order to save them overcame me and I told the dispatcher to get officers here NOW as I tried to find somewhere to hide or escape. But as I ascended the stairs for my escape, everything went dark and I never saw anything again. I never would find out if the old ladies were saved or if the police showed up in time. I ceased to exist and would never know how or why.