The Peddler

The Peddler

Martha Jhine lay sprawled out on her couch, reading one of her younger brother's comic books (which she despised, but she still enjoyed to see what her brother liked to do was like). The rest of her family - mom, dad, and her brother - were all at a movie. She on the other hand, didn't want to see a movie, instead, she wanted to be at the roller rink with her boyfriend and friends. She was instead relaxing, listening to the neighbor's chimes ring, and ding in the wind. Yet for some reason, the chimes scared her, leaving an empty, dead feeling on her inside.

Martha had dirty blond hair, down to her shoulders. She had light blue eyes, and many freckles, giving her a unique look. Most boys considered her perfect, and she liked it that way. The only boy she was interested in though, was her boyfriend, Rick. They had been together since the sixth grade (and they were now in eighth), happily. Martha wanted to be with Rick, but couldn't right then. She just wanted to hear his soft, gentle voice (that he only presented to her).

So she picked up her new phone (an iPhone) and went to her contacts list, selected Rick, and hit auto dial. It took about five seconds for Rick to answer.

"Hey, Martha. Are you ok?" Martha smiled at Rick's opening answer to her call, and responded back as sweetly as she could. She could hear in the feedback of Rick's phone music blaring from the roller rink.

"Yeah, babe, I am." She didn't like saying "babe," but it please Rick to hear her saying it (even though he knew she despised saying it). "I was just-" She was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Hold on... babe." Rick responded with a snicker.

Martha stood up, and walked to the door, and opened it. In the doorway stood a man around his late thirties, dressed in a black suit (with a silver tie), hands cupped in front of his gut. She winced at the sight of his light brown hair seemingly slicked down and combed with grease. What made him eerie, she thought, was his glasses; regular spectacles, but with black lenses.

Martha spoke first. "Hi there, and who might you be. Can you just be quick... my boyfriend is on the line-" She was cut off by the man.

"Well I, might just be Mr. Joensin. And, it is my pleasure to meet you, Martha." He exaggerated her name, and Martha stood back a step, mouth open.

"H-how do you know my name?" Martha asked demandingly, wanted this creep gone.

"Oh, I know all about you, Martha. How do you think I know where you live?" That sent chills down her spine. The only thing she could think was, Oh, crap. Ooooh, crap. "I can tell you more about yourself." That scared her even more.

"Ya know what, Mr. Jonesy?" She said mockingly.

"It is Mr. Joensin, Martha." He responded. Martha hated him saying her name. She started to close the door, but the odd man quickly held out a hand, stopping it. Martha yelped.

"I, am a peddler, Martha, and you will be interested in what I'm selling." He reached behind his back, with his other hand.

"NO! I'm not interested! Get away! AWAY!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, loud enough for Rick to hear.

In an instant, the "peddler" lunged in through the door way, swinging in his hand that was behind his back, a pocketknife. Martha screamed as loud as she could, but it didn't help. She felt a thud as the handle of the blade jammed onto her stomach, right after the blade slipped into her like butter. She screamed and pushed him away, falling down, and started to half crawl, half limp away, blood dripping like made from her. She fell to her knees, and started walking on them, as fast as she could. She had one hand on her gut, feeling the blood poor over it, as well as staining her white teen. She turned her head to see Mr. Joensin lock the door, after closing it, then hang up his coat.

"I hope you don't mind if I come in, Martha." Tears started to form a river on her face, after hearing that. And then she heard him start walking down the hall. Luckily, she had turned the corner, and was near a door. She went in, and saw it was too the basement. She stood painfully, and hopped down the stairs. She got to the bottom, and groaned, then looked for a place to hide. She spotted a dusty, wooden desk, and crawled over, and then under it, huddled up in a ball. She put her unoccupied hand over her mouth, and started to pant. She heard the "peddler" start to come down the stairs.

"Martha, want to know what my favorite game is? Hide and seek martha. Yes sir-ree it is!" She adjusted he hand over he wound, but felt one of her fingers slip into the hole, and she grunted, in a high pitched town. More blood dripped out of the wound, and she started to whimper. "Martha, I think I know where you are!" She froze as he started to whistle, as he started to whistle Mary had a little lamb. Lord no, he's mental! HE'S MENTAL! She listened in silence (and extreme pain) as he slowly neared the end of the whistled tune. He stopped walking right in front of the desk, and turned to a rack of metal baseball bats, still whistling. He grasped the longest bat, and this time spoke the last line of the tune, but with a twist - "And every where that

MARTHA

went, the sheep was sure to GO!" He screamed the word go, and swung the bat. It hit the desk with a loud crack. Martha screamed as the wood splintered all over her face, and screamed louder when the bat hit her shoulder, with a crack. The "peddler" dropped the bat, and picked Martha up out of the rubble, putting his hands under her armpit. Martha couldn't feel her left shoulder, since it was probably shattered. She kicked her legs, flailing them trying to get him to put her down. The peddler started to walk forward (in a way Martha couldn't see where she was going). Where is he taking ME? She thought.

"Put me down! Now! Put me down you psychopath! Put me down! Lord! Put me down, down down down! Down you-" She could finish, but she screamed. Louder than ever. She kept screaming as Mr. Joensin held her back first against the sizzling furnace. Tears poured down her face as the furnace burned through her bloody shirt, then blackened her skin. He let her fall, and she landed on her knees, then to her face, where she cried seemingly unstoppable.

"That is my product, Martha. Do you like it?" Martha couldn't answer, she was in shock, unable to mover or think. The "peddler" stepped up to her, than kicked her in the side of the head, cracking skin, producing more blood. She rolled over, showing here bare stomach and chest - the shirt had burnt, and fell off, as well as her bra. He took out his knife again, and held it to her throat. He pulled, and watched as blood bubbled extremely fast out of here neck. Her head fell to the side, and blood dripped out the corner of her mouth.

Mr Joensin stood and stared, calmly. He stood for about ten minutes. He then started to mop up around the house, leaving no signs, as if he'd done this before. After finishing the cleaning, he walked out the house with a trash bag (with Martha's body inside), and walked over to the neighbor's trash can. He slid the bag in, and smiled. He said out loud

"Martha's glad it's trash day."