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Jeffrey | The Dreamweaver

Updated: Jan 13


WARNING: Contains violence. May not be suitable for more sensitive readers.



I was out riding bikes with my daughter and there were quite a lot of people cycling home trying trying to beat the looming storm that already dropped enough light rain to make the roads quite wet and slippery.


As we were close to home, I decided to pick up the pace before it started raining any harder and just as we had passed a slowly moving line of cyclists I realized I had miscalculated the distance of where to pull off the road onto the sidewalk near home, so I made a sudden tight turn onto the street before our house and while I nearly wiped out, managed to stay on my bike and turn around long enough to see that my daughter had also kept up behind me and had successfully navigated the turn.


As we made it end of the street and turned right to go around the block, a young man rode up beside me and said if I heard the derogatory comments another cyclist made as I passed him up before making the slippery turn.


He told me it was Jeffrey, taunting me about having been released from prison years before he was eligible due some technicality.


The man said I shouldn’t let him intimidate me, especially seeing how Jeffrey had bought a house in our neighborhood with the deliberate intention of taunting me and harassing my family.


I stopped my bike and asked the man how he knew me and about Jeffrey, and he said he was hired by the court to protect me and my family.


He then told me that Jeffrey had just cycled into a long gangway and would soon be at the back gate of his house, so if I hurried I’d be able to confront him before he went inside.


I got the end of the gangway just as this Jeffrey person was opening the gate and I told him to freeze and not make a move.


Quite unnerved by the fact that Jeffrey was nearly two meters tall and towered over me, I told him not to turn around, hoping he’d obey and therefore stopping him from seeing me.


I told him to put one hand on his head and slowly get down on one knee, and then the other, and finally lay flat down on his stomach.


When he was finally on the ground, I took one of his arms and stretched it around to the back of his head so he would think I was about to put handcuffs on him.


Just then, I noticed a barbecue grill near another neighbor’s fence and saw a long two-pronged steak fork on the bottom of the grill and quickly reached for it.


Taking the large fork, I drove it deep into Jeffrey’s side, then twice more, once into his stomach and a third and final time into his abdomen and up into his heart causing Jeffrey to moan then gasp in excruciating pain.


I threw the fork to the ground and started running away, nor sure whether to go home and call the police or simply leave Jeffrey to die there.


Then I woke up.

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