Writing Prompt Challenge -- Prompt 3

Welcome to this week's Writing Prompt challenge!

This prompt is:You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions

The afternoon began pretty normal for me.

I had just gotten off work, parking the car in place when I got out and noticed an envelope sticking out of the mailbox. Of course I had assumed that it was just another piece of mail, so I brought it inside and sat it down on the table. It was only once inside that my heart quaked upon the realization of what the letter was.

DEPARTMENT OF HUMAN OVERPOPULATION RESOURCES

For Mr. Ryan Schaffer

LETTER OF PURGE NOTICE

I guess I never thought too hard on the idea that anyone could want me dead.

But once I read the message, it was obvious; my brother.

I had always overshadowed him. He always believed that our parents cared about me much more than him, and that I had more friends, more relationships, et cetera. I had always tried to reason with him – that it wasn't true, that there was plenty of times that people cared about him just as much as they did me.

By the time we graduated high school, he went somewhere else and none of us had ever heard from him again. I always felt pity for him, but now I had no choice. The hunt started on 5 minutes from when I finished the letter. I had to defend myself.

I did mostly what I remembered from the advice the surviving defenders of the hunt had given in various interviews and internet posts – I boarded up the door, the windows, got my pistol, and headed upstairs.

It was quiet for a while. I had locked myself in my bedroom and had waited for what seemed like an eternity until I heard a load scratching noise in the backdoor. At this moment my body shut down in fear, as I realized the mistake that I made.

I had only barred ONE door – the front one. I had totally forgotten about the backside of the house, save the windows. I kept my gun close as a soft thud continued from the backdoor, through the house, and up the stairs.

Finally, it stopped.

My hands were shaking now, pointing the gun at the door in front of me. With a loud crack the axe made a whole in the door. And another. And another. And another.

Finally the door burst opened, and I shot.


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