The Newspaper

Lillian Xie

She always checked the newspaper when she got up, wondering what was going on in the world. She was a lady who always wore a pair of glasses with big flowers, as if living in the 18th century, unwilling to surrender to technology. Living alone, the newspaper was the only entertainment she had before work. 

So she took out the newspaper carefully as usual, and scanned the headlines: “Nothing. Good.” An enigmatic smile appeared on her face.

Her house made cracking sounds now and then, like a little tiny palace in Elizabethan times, full of decorations hanging on the wall. A lavish carpet in dark red, bones that could not be distinguished dangled from the ceiling, and animal skin was sewn into the frame of drawings. Apart from the fact that a weird rotten meat smell suffused in the house, her home looked delicately gorgeous. Yet no one came to visit he. They all asserted she was a freak based on her creepy smile, which reminded people of a desperate buzzard. The only one who came every single day in the morning at 8 o’clock was the newspaper man. And it was the only moment she could feel a little joy.

The bell rang from the doorway as the clock ticked 8. This lady dressed up and jumped to open the door.

“Hello, good morning sir,” her voice was fresh and as charming as a lemon.

“Hello,” he smiled back at her weakly.

“Do you wanna come and have a sip of tea? I really have nothing to do in the morning ‘cause my job begins in the afternoon.” She smiled with her beautiful sparkling eyes, and the eyes seemed to beg for someone to come and comfort her lonely soul.

“Well… Sure, just one cup.”

“Perfect! Just one moment.” She smiled happily, opening the door for him and watching him cross the threshold. She swiftly turned around and shut the door as fast as she could. She knew clearly that another victory was raising in front of her eyes as the man walked onto her carpet.

With a huge thump sound, the man collapsed. She giggled when she looked at him lying there while her hand held a huge baseball stick. She felt a huge sense of accomplishment watching the man struggling on the ground like a dying worm. This was the only highlight of her day.

The afternoon was filled with work. She needed to make the garnishments of her house in her own time.

“You can be with me forever now,” the lady murmured and smiled, again.

She always checked the newspaper when she started her day. As she picked up the newspaper the next day, the headline caught her eyes: Psychopath appears to targeting young men; bodies still not found. 

“DAMN,” the young lady sighed, looking up at her wall full of decorations.

About haringeyunchained

Haringey Unchained is a collective of students aiming to show case the creative talent of Haringey Sixth Form College in Tottenham, London. We think that through the promotion of our creative thoughts, we can educate our community, bringing to the foreground the critical and creative consciousness of a vibrant school in a deprived part of London. We are endeavouring to provide this blog as a platform for our community, giving the space to those whose work otherwise might not be seen or read. Being that the cuffs are off, we are able to express through our photography, art, short fiction and poetry, what’s really on our minds. We are free.

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