• Screams echoed through the otherwise still night. In the homes of neighbours lights flickered to life on their front steps. About ten pairs of slippered feet shuffled out into the cold autumn wind. Each of them were exhausted by lack of sleep. For each night without fail this same sound reached their sleep dulled senses and each night without fail they shuffled out to see the same girl, always dressed head to toe in red stalk off into the dark alone and seemingly unconcerned about any of the muggers, murders or just general bad out in the middle of the night. Yet amazingly despite her screams she always appeared again the next morning dressed in yet more red with a fresh smile she seemed to have an abundance of. This woman’s eyes were like no one could describe. A hint of angel blue and a swirl of a deep onyx. Her golden hair piled onto her head in a fountain of curls that shone in the light. (as not by exaggeration for all the people of this street agreed) and by far popular opinion the woman must have been a model of some sort. None of the families knew who this girl was but they did know who lived in the house she was always visiting. A man by the name of Anthony Carmen. He seemed like the ideal neighbour. Quiet, kept to himself and never butting into other peoples business. Mr. Carmen himself stepped out of the house dressed in a black bathrobe, his hair damp. It was obvious he had just come out of the shower. His dark eyes searched the street where people around him were all gawking as if they had never seen it before but where fact lay it had been happening nightly for about two months. After assuring that Chris had in fact gone he slipped back inside his home and bolted shut the door. Inside the cool interior of his living room candles flickered dully as if about to spurt out their flame. The room smelled of burnt hair. It always did. Gliding across the tiled floor Mr. Carmen swept up the pieces that had been left. There were not as many as usual but he did not mind for it was a nightly ritual they shared yet it always ended with a scream of blood chilling terror from her counterpart. For inside the demonically beautiful Christina Ramos lay a more homely woman, very kind and light hearted yet very religious at the same time. This woman’s name was Cassandra Homes. Somehow for the past two months she had gained enough strength nightly to come out at one point or another and scream inhumanly for she was using the combination of two humans’ lungs.
    “This must be stopped!” he declared, fist slamming into the wooden table top. The drinks quaked from the force. The small group, the neighbourhood watch, erupted with murmurs of agreement. Mr Ranuski, a portly bald polish man, stood.
    “If I must…” he began drawing out must as if he was about to make a rather large sacrifice, “I will talk the woman into letting me take her to dinner…” but before the poor man could finish he was interrupted by a peel of laughed.
    “That may work if the woman was blind” input the still giggling Miss Ruth. Several others burst into hysterical laughter until eight of the ten people present were wheezing in delight. Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Ranuski were the only two that did not find this remotely amusing. Richard Sanchez because he demanded order and Rubin Ranuski did not like the fact that they were all laughing at him. Ruth, the thin strawberry blonde, had stopped laughing but continued to smile. “Oh come now Rubin, you know I was only teasing you. I am sure the woman would agree. But my main concern as how to ask her without seeming like a stalker.” she did have a very valid point. For if you went up to someone at three in the morning to ask them to dinner on Friday night they would instantly label you a stalker or something of the nature.
    “He could ask her in the morning before she gets to Mr. Carmen’s house” suggested Baily Blare, the mayors daughter. She had never liked the watch unless it came down to Mr. Carmen. Then she was always interested for she liked a mystery. No wonder the poor man stays inside. To avoid her, Ruth thought still smiling across the table at Baily who have began to sip her drink in a very dignified fashion with a far away look in her eyes. With no doubt Ruth assumed she was thinking of Mr. Carmen at that very moment. The poor man had many girls that would just love to figure out his isolated mystery that Ruth was sure he did not want to be solved by anyone.