I know what you did.
Freddy Snips stared at the message scrawled in red across the bathroom mirror that hadn't been there a second ago. It wasn't something you could miss, being right in the center of the mirror, the looping script blazed across the mirror's width. It looked like lipstick, or blood.
Freddy preferred lipstick.
"Ow" he yelled and pulled his hands out from under the hot water. They were bright pink. He absentmindedly wiped them on his blue polo shirt.
"What the?" Freddy spun around, but there was no one behind him. The hotel bathroom wasn't very big, just a toilet and a shower. He tore the shower curtain aside to reveal nothing but a run of the mill tub and tile. He pulled at the mirror, but it was securely mounted to the wall.
There's no one here but you, me, and your conscience.
"The hell with this," Freddy muttered and turned the door handle. It was locked.
You're not going anywhere.
Who is Davey?
"Fine, then whatever Candid Camera, Punk'd, rip-off show this is, I've had enough."
I'll tell you when you've had enough. I've waited a decade for you.
Freddy noticed that there was frost forming along the edge of the mirror. His breath floated before him like a fog.
They always return to the scene of the crime.
"I don't know what you mean," Freddy's teeth chattered. "I haven't done anything wrong."
You will pay, Fred Snipes. You thought you could have your way with me, and leave me for dead. But I knew you'd come back and I would have my revenge. You'll be joining me soon enough.
"Snips," Freddy said.
"My name is Freddy Snips!"
"Y-y-yes" Freddy collapsed to the floor, curling himself into a tight ball for warmth.
Oh. I mus have misread the register. Sorry about that.
The red writing faded away and the temperature returned to normal. After a few minutes shivering on the floor, Freddy slowly sat up.
"I will not be recommending this establishment to my friends," he muttered. Then, after a moment, a puckish smile crept across his face. "Well, maybe to Davey."
Copyright 2012 John Lance