'Me + Prison' by Evelyn

I am ugly. Large nose, bushy eyebrows, ghastly scar. Prison changed me. I used to be a good-looking, middle-class, perfect police officer, but everything changed overnight. But today, today is different, for today, I am leaving the hellhole (as I like to call it) to live in luxury once more. By luxury, I mean not having to share one small room with a fifty-year-old, stinky, money launderer.

Well, I guess luxury is out the window.

I am now stood outside a dilapidated Victorian Terrace in the middle of London. There is no sound besides the increasingly agitating thunder as well as the cacophony of hacking, screeching and other involuntary noises. The battered, boarded windows, doors and other seemingly ‘charming’ features are hardly the ‘welcome to the Outside’ I expected.

Another little fact about me - I am a germaphobe. I could smell and almost taste the germs. But as the only other place to go was to the crazy-cat lady next door (which didn’t look like a particularly good idea) I reluctantly decided to brave it (I could always wear my hazmat suit).

As I walked through the threshold I felt a cold breeze waft pass me, which rooted me to the spot. But, against my better judgement, I carried on. I continued into the kitchen; open cupboards and smashed crockery greeted me.

I felt the cold breeze again. As it brushed past me, I tasted it and it tasted like air, like nothing. However, this second breeze was different, it sent a shiver down my spine - I felt frozen, like a block of ice. This breeze had a smell though, not the lovely smell of Aunt Jane’s apple pie, a horrible smell, like a homeless man who hadn’t had a shower for three decades. Maybe the hazmat suit might be needed after all.

But that wasn’t what worried me the most.

Wait, it couldn't possibly be.

”Bernarddd is that you?"

I exhaled shakily - maybe that ghastly smell was making me hallucinate. But then (out of the blue) I heard a thick Russian-like cough.

My heart sank.

"Long time, no see Clark. Long time no see."

The calm voice in which he spoke threw me off-kilter.

Part of me wanted to scream.

Part of me wanted to run.

Part of me wanted to stay and fight.

And I chose the latter. The first thing that caught my eye was a revolver - a dusty, small, antique revolver. It wouldn't have any bullets though - based on my luck. As I picked it up, the figure became clearer - it was definitely Bernard - hooray. I decided to test the gun out and I shot it through the boarded window and then - a scream. A high scream, an annoying scream, a very loud scream.

"Mauriceeee!" I heard the Russian scream with horror.

The gun clattered to the floor (I will have a headache after this) as terror struck through my soul. I was surrounded by not one, but two ghosts - or maybe there was another upstairs lurking under the bed.

"You will pay for this Clark, you will pay."

Bang! Then peaceful silence. Silence but maybe not peaceful.