Bone Dry Killer
In an old town of California, a young women had a party with all of her friends. She had long brown hair and bright, brown eyes, but she was very poor, and lived with her mother.
She told her mother to wait upstairs when the party first began. Her mother pleaded that she doesn’t stay alone in a room for too long. The mother thinks the house is haunted. Young Mandy hasn’t been alone in a room, ever!
Her mother begged and got on her knees, but Mandy kept turning her down. “It’s dangerous!” She pleaded. Mandy sighed and took her old, widowed mother upstairs to her bedroom. “I’ll be fine, I’m twenty-one. Mum, please, just sleep. The party won’t be very long.” She tucked her mother in bed and waited for the guests to arrive, but nobody showed.
Mandy started to worry. She quietly wiped tears off her face. It was her first party, and nobody wanted to come. The phone rang. She picked up the phone, “Hello?” She asked. “Midnight.” Said a scratchy voice. She glanced at the clock. 10:00. “Hello?” She asked again. The line went dead. It must be a prank, she thought.
At ten thirty, the phone rang. “Hello?” She asked. “Midnight.” The voice repeated. She quickly hung up the phone. It’s just some kid trying to be scary. At eleven P.M., the phone rang, “Who are you?” She asked. “Midnight.” She was getting worried. At eleven thirty the phone rang once. She stared at the phone in a small armchair. The phone rang
twice. Mandy hesitated. The phone rang a third time… “Hello?” She asked again. “Midnight, Bone Dry.” The voice said. She hung up.
She turned on the small T.V. The news channel was on. “Something to calm me down.” She said to herself. “Lock all your doors if you live in California, lock all your doors because a serial killer is on the loose.
She turned off the T.V. quickly and read a book. At eleven forty five, the phone rang. “Who are you?” She screamed. “Hurry, I’m Bone Dry. Midnight will come.” She panicked. She called the police. They traced the call, they told her to get out of the house. The call was coming from her mother's bedroom.
She ran to the front door. It was locked. She couldn’t find the key. The police were a half hour away. And it was five minutes until midnight. She frantically tried to get out of the house, but when she found an open window, a black figure stepped in front of her. “I’m bone dry, out of bones.” She screamed.
When the police got to the house, a trail of blood led to behind the couch. There sat Mandy, dead. An old man, chewing on her bones. He looked up. “I’m dry out of bones.” Her body had been torn apart and eaten by a crazy killer. He likes to take bones and chew them into fragments of what they were. They found the mother, bones half eaten, upstairs. She was also dead. And that’s the story of the Bone Dry Killer.