<< Simone Saves the Day >>
February 01, 2005, 5:47 p.m.

Simone watches the television with no shoes on. She snacks on broken pretzels while listening to a man shout at a broken door. The door opens and scrapes on bubbled linoleum. Another man with no shirt answers while swaying to a tune stuck in his head. Mr. nude grins a thousand oceans, and fails to ever drown.

Simone watches the semi-nude man twist his face to match the occasion. The man shouting at the broken door is no longer shouting. He raises his chest to match the shirtless man's grin, and informs him about the Night Twirler.

"The Night Twirler is a serial killer with no gender for the moment. He would sneak into accessible houses and steal long necklaces or jump ropes. When she was done burglarizing, he would stealthily enter into sleeping rooms and twirl the necklace or jump rope. After five twirls she grabbed her victim by the throat and noosed em in a matter of seconds. The whole scene would end before it started, and the Night Twirler would disappear."

Simone chokes on a bit of pretzel as she stares at the television. She coughs, but the bit strangles her like the string of pearls the Night Twirler would oscillate. Minutes pass and the pretzel fails to assuage her. Five minutes gone and Simone is on the floor. She remembers the Heimlich maneuver the very second she dies. She watches herself become lurid.

Simone examines her body with no shoes on. A man is shouting at her door. She opens it to announce to the other side that Simone is no longer here.

He nods and escorts her into the nearest room. The man is squalid, wearing a black cloak with holes, and it is hanging on him like soaked fur on a dog. He embraces Simone and they land on the bed. He does not carry heat or body mass, but she feels incredibly sublime in his arms. They both lie on the bed tangled, and her thoughts, memories, and identity leak out of her person, stitching themselves into the quilt below her. She is dead, and she knows this. She is deceased, and she adores the notion.

The television is still blaring while Simone lies in the middle of the floor. Broken pretzels float above her head in the shape of a disfigured halo. One broken pretzel floating in her throat.

"The Night Twirler is capable of entering your home if you are not practicing proper security. The police have advised to stay in your home with the windows and doors locked. A phone in all rooms is encouraged. Hide all ropes, jump ropes, necklaces, and anything that may be used as a noose. The Night Twirler has not been seen in full lighting. We shall provide a profile and sketch of the Night Twirler when further information arrives. Thank you for watching, Your News, Channel 13 with Caroline Towner."

The television is no longer blaring as the power flickers off. Simone and the cloaked man are no longer in the room. Her body lies still in the dark coffin of her living room.

The Night Twirler knocks on the door. He opens it slowly and walks through the house. He doesn't notice Simone on the floor and trips over her landing on the television. His head impales the glass and the circuits and wires crackle while he is quickly roasting with electricity. Sparks make their way to the curtains, and fire is born.

The house quickly combusts, and the neighborhood watches with their doors wide open. Simone and the Night Twirler are cremated at once, as Simone's spirt watches the house with her neighbors.

"What a tragedy to lose that sweet Simone, I hope they get her out of the house before the Night Crawler finds his way in," whispers a stranger across the street.

All the neighbors nod their head at once, and Simone smiles at the warm glow.

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