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Miss, You’ve Dropped Something

Angelina Herron walked through her local grocer’s parking lot carrying her bags, when someone put a hand on her shoulder. It was a man wearing a long, grey overcoat and a black bowler that covered his eyes in a shadow. “Miss,” the man said, “You’ve dropped something.” He handed her a long and shining dagger. She did not recognize this man and since she lived in rural Tennessee could call everyone in her town by name, this scared her. Then, she remembered a story on the news recently about a butcher, a county over, who was responsible for killing and EATING sixteen people. The parts he didn’t eat he sold as steak and then escaped when the police showed up. She feared this might be the same man and jumped into her car, driving away without a second glance.

When she got home, she went to put the groceries on the table but instead dropped them, and screamed at what she saw. At first, shaken from the experience at the store, Angelina believed she was hallucinating but soon realized that what she saw was real. There, on the table, was the knife and a note saying, “Miss, you’ve dropped something.” Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around, there was the man from the store! This time, Angelina had a little voice inside of her telling her that this man was trying to protect her from something. He nodded and was gone, literally gone. He had not walked out, but had seemed to disappear before her. She put the knife in the drawer for the night.

The next morning, the knife was right back on the table with another note stating “Leave this out, you’ll need it.” Suddenly, Angelina felt a hand on her shoulder. Expecting the now familiar man she associated with the shoulder touch, she turned around to receive the shock of her life! There stood the serial killer from the news! He was wearing blood stained overalls and torn boots. His pointed yellow teeth slowly stretched into a demonic smile and the green eyes on his pale worn face bore into her. Wasting no time, she grabbed the knife behind her and stabbed the man. The knife went through his right lung; he hobbled backwards and fell over, dead. When Angelina turned around, she noticed another note where the knife had been. The note read, “You’ve done well, now pass it on.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, expecting another attack she turned around, knife in hand, only to find the familiar grey overcoat man. He nodded, and this time smiled, then once again was gone, his identity still and always a complete mystery too her.

Angelina called the police to report the killer dead. When the police arrived, they asked for the knife. Angelina brought it to them, though stated that she thought it best she give it to someone else. The officer was sceptical at first, but then Angelina saw him touch his own shoulder and turn around, as though staring into space. He turned back, a little confused, then stated he had a feeling she was right.

The next day, she took the knife to the store where the man had given it to her. When she saw Adrienne LeCours, a sixteen year old, who had just moved here with her parents from Louisiana, she had a hunch this was who was meant to have the knife next. Angelina handed Adrienne the knife in much the same way she was given it, saying “Miss, you’ve dropped something.” Adrienne had almost exactly the same reaction Angelina did, but then touched her shoulder, turned around, then turned back around and decided she had better take it. The next day Angelina saw her on the news, she had stabbed ‘The Nashville Kidnapper’ with a dagger (the knife from Angelina) and had decided it was best to, instead as using it as evidence, pass it on.

Similar stories were heard throughout the area and all involved the same knife (no one except Angelina knew, of course). The stories all ended in success for the victim, until one night, when a serial killer had dodged the knife then grabbed it, the moment he did, he died. However, the knife, with its paranormal abilities, remained in his corpse’s hand. The energy given off by the knife coursed through the killer’s soul until he descended back into his body. He was given supernatural powers as, of course, he is no longer living. He now walks the Earth killing innocent victims. There is no way to kill him, because he is a dead soul. You can’t hide, because he’ll find you, and you can’t run, because he’ll catch you. Once he gets on your trail, he’ll stay on it until you’re dead, so I, the re-teller of this story, advise you do nothing to anger him. By writing this I have put myself at extreme risk to be his next victim. Retelling, or even reading, this story is the one thing that angers him most; he likes it when he can surprise his victims. After all, it is a horrible thought knowing he’s going to kill you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

(Sent in by Billy)

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