The Lost Football Game
by Randall Mark Luke Davis
Another Friday evening gone by and another lost for the football team. Jim had been playing football at Centennial since he was a freshman and knew very well the taste of defeat, but this had been a slaying of the team. Thankfully that was behind him now he was a senior and would be playing for a winning college team. As usual Jim went to the post-game sorrow feast and came home late. On the kitchen table there was a note waiting for him, which read.
Dear Jim,
I've seen you at all the games. I think you are the best player on the team.
Why do we still lose all the time? Well hopefully tonight we'll win.
Jim didn't think twice on the note. His mother often wrote uplifting notes for him before and after games.
"Mom, thanks for the note!" Jim yelled in the still mostly dark house.
There was no reply. When Jim went to the den his father wasn't there watching the scores of the other high school teams.
"Mom? Dad? Anyone home!" Jim yelled. By now he was getting angry that they weren't home. "Hey, guys! If you went out to dinner without me...!" Jim yelled to the darkness again. Still no reply came for him. Jim thought then that they had gone to bed early for some reason and quietly walked upstairs only to find another dark hallway. As he turned to look at his parents bedroom he saw the family pet, Tiger, walking out of the bedroom. "Hey Tiger, what are you doing in there? You know Mom and Dad won't let you in their bedroom."
Jim picked up Tiger and walked into his parents room quietly.
"Are you two asleep" Jim whispered as he took a step into the room. The room was totally dark. The blinds were drawn shut and even the light from his parents alarm-clock didn't shine in the room.
"I hope you two are decent because I'm going to turn on the light," Jim said hoping to get a reaction out of his parents. As soon as Jim flipped on the light he let out a scream and dropped Tiger. His mother laid on the bed and by the way she was smiling you knew she was no longer with us and his father was draped over the night-stand with a quill sticking straight out his back. Jim quickly remembered the ink on the note had been deep red as well as bit runny. That and his mother hated to write in red ink. Jim's mind was racing faster than even he could run as a running back! Who wrote the note? Who did this? Why?
"I wrote the note." A soft almost gentle voice said.
Jim spun around to see a small girl standing there. Jim knew she was in one of his classes, but had never really spoken to her before.
"W...Why? Why did you do this!?" Jim screamed a burning rage in his eyes.
"I've seen every one of your games. You were so great! I wrote you notes all the time and put them in your locker. I have all your yearbook pictures on my wall. Everything I have of you is on my wall and now I want to finish my collection."
The police found Jim hanging on her wall the next day. The police never could find the girl. People still say they see her coming to the football games. With every game the only one she cares about watching is the running back.
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