~~

It was the same most evenings. Sam picked up Becky and drove his wreck to the parking area two miles outside town. There they could play the car radio full blast; they could hang out on their own.

It was already half-dark when they heard the local news: '... escaped from Locksley Prison... convicted for murder...'

Sam stopped drumming his fingers on the tacky steering wheel.

'... a full-scale hunt is under way,' droned the voice on the dashboard. 'Police are advising members of the public not to approach him. He is extremely dangerous, and has a hook instead of a right arm.'

'A hook!' said Becky. 'That's horrible.'

'Horrible, horrible!' said Sam, grinning in the dark.

'What was that?' cried Becky, and she jammed herself against Sam.

'What?'

'That scratching!'

'Keep your shirt on,' said Sam. 'This piece of junk's always creaking and groaning.'

'Let's go,' said Becky. 'Now, Sam. Quick!'

'If you insist,' said Sam.

'Sorry,' said Becky, when Sam pulled up outside her house. 'I just got scared. You coming in?'

Then Sam jumped up and walked round the back of the car to Becky's side. And there, hanging from the handle of Becky's door, hanging and still swinging, was a large steel hook.

~~

Greetings! I hope you enjoyed this one as much as the last one, or maybe more.

Note: these are not my stories, but I don't know who wrote them.

~ tol bean out