The Watermelon

This is the very first short story I ever wrote for Inkpot. The prompt was: A girl is sitting on a park bench, waiting for someone…

Lei checked her watch for what had to be the millionth time. She knew it wouldn’t make time go by any faster, but it was a nervous habit, so it was there to stay. Lotus had never been late to anything, and Lei was late to everything, so you can see why she was worried.

She was sitting on a park bench in the middle of a grassy field, bees were buzzing, birds were chirping, and the general atmosphere was the exact opposite of what Lei felt: calm.

After a while her nerves got the best of her, and she stood and began to search for her friend. Lei was walking past a lamppost when a paper with her name written in large, childish script danced over the gum covered sidewalk and paused at her feet. She bent to pick it up and read the back:

You will never see your friend again unless you meet me at the abandoned house at 2:30 pm. Come alone. Don’t be late. Your friend’s life depends on it.

If Lei hadn’t been such a nervous girl in such a nervous state, then perhaps she would’ve realized she recognized the handwriting. She might’ve even remembered that only one person referred to the house that was ‘For Sale’ as abandoned. But no. She was scared for her friend’s life, so she ran to her neighborhood without a moment’s hesitation. The door to the house was hanging open, an eerie presence looming within. Lei tiptoed in and shouted, “I’m here! Where are you?”

“In the office,” a horrifyingly familiar voice cackled.

“Oh no,” Lei choked. Now she put all the clues she’d previously overlooked together: the handwriting, the ‘abandoned’ reference. When she entered the office, there was a spinning chair turned away from her in the otherwise empty room.

“So, you saw the letter,” the voice drawled. The chair turned, revealing a face Lei knew all too well.

“You!” She gulped, terrified. Because sitting on the chair…

Was a watermelon.