It's Me

This story has been accepted for publication in the 'Abandoned Towers magazine."


  "It's me."

    "I beg your pardon, madam? Are you sure you have the right number?"

    "Oh, I think so."

    "Who's speaking?"

    "I told you: it's me."

    "And what can I do for you, whoever you are?"

    "Can't you guess who I am?"

    "I don't care to guess. I'm hanging up, now. Please don't call me again."

    "No…don't hang up. If you do, I might just phone your new rich

wife and tell her what really happened to the old one."

    "It was suicide. I was cleared of any involvement…"

    "But you and I know the truth, don't we?"

    "Why won't you tell me who you are?"

    "Because it's more fun this way."

    "Perhaps I should call the police."

    "Are you sure you don't recognise my voice?"

    "I know who you sound like, but you can't be her, can you? What kind of

idiot do you take me for?"

    "Aren't you even going to ask what I want?"

    "That's obvious—money."

    "I want you to go over to the window of your lovely penthouse suite and open

it. Then I want you to look down and think about how very high up you are, and

how long it would take to hit the sidewalk if you fell."

    "And why would I want to do that?"

    "Humour me, there's a good boy; I could still call your wife."

    "Fine. I'm at the window. Now what? Do I jump to my death in a fit remorse?"

    "No need for that. Just look over your shoulder."

    "Look over my…"

    "Hullo, darling."

    "NO…You can't be! I watched you fall…'

    "And now I'll watch you fall."