Dear Reader,
I suppose you wonder why I killed her. The knife laying by her body, crimson at the end, flowing down the regret-filled dagger. My manic laughter can be heard for miles, but no one is listening. The tears in Lowry's eyes cascading down her cold body, landing on the grassy plain beneath. My car is parked behind us and her briefcase can still be seen from the front window - sitting on the passenger's seat.
The hours prior we spent in her office. The rows of empty seats faced us while her pen clicked against one of them - the globe on the top spinning with each tap. Her lecture before taught about the fall of the Western Roman Empire, and I - the oldest in the class - sat in the front watching intently. I was going back to school to be a professor, specifically a history one, but I had trouble finding a job. The principal had joked that if something were to happen to my teacher - god forbid - I might get her job. After the lecture, I approached my professor, Lowry, questioning her about the Roman Empire, and she responded with a smirk telling me that she was about to go to lunch, but I could join her to discuss it. So, I hopped in her passenger's seat, and we drove to an old cafe on the outskirts of the city. While eating she informed me that the emperor of Rome was overthrown due to poor, misguided leadership - killed by a Barbarian Germanic leader. Afterward, I offered to drive back to the college, and she stepped into the passenger's seat. I drove her to an isolated valley and, scarred for her life, she attempted to jump out the window - crashing into the grass of the beautiful plains. I searched her briefcase, looking for a first aid kit, but all I could find was a knife - lying sideways against the walls of her mustard-colored bag. I reached in and pulled it out - knowing what her plan was all along. My eyes flung to her body laying on the plain. I grabbed the car door handle, and I pulled viciously. My ready hands grasped the knife, as I hurdled toward her. The knife came down quickly, slashing her throat. In the desolate plain, I laughed to myself saying, the job is mine!
Sincerely,
Your new history professor
I suppose you wonder why I killed her. The knife laying by her body, crimson at the end, flowing down the regret-filled dagger. My manic laughter can be heard for miles, but no one is listening. The tears in Lowry's eyes cascading down her cold body, landing on the grassy plain beneath. My car is parked behind us and her briefcase can still be seen from the front window - sitting on the passenger's seat.
The hours prior we spent in her office. The rows of empty seats faced us while her pen clicked against one of them - the globe on the top spinning with each tap. Her lecture before taught about the fall of the Western Roman Empire, and I - the oldest in the class - sat in the front watching intently. I was going back to school to be a professor, specifically a history one, but I had trouble finding a job. The principal had joked that if something were to happen to my teacher - god forbid - I might get her job. After the lecture, I approached my professor, Lowry, questioning her about the Roman Empire, and she responded with a smirk telling me that she was about to go to lunch, but I could join her to discuss it. So, I hopped in her passenger's seat, and we drove to an old cafe on the outskirts of the city. While eating she informed me that the emperor of Rome was overthrown due to poor, misguided leadership - killed by a Barbarian Germanic leader. Afterward, I offered to drive back to the college, and she stepped into the passenger's seat. I drove her to an isolated valley and, scarred for her life, she attempted to jump out the window - crashing into the grass of the beautiful plains. I searched her briefcase, looking for a first aid kit, but all I could find was a knife - lying sideways against the walls of her mustard-colored bag. I reached in and pulled it out - knowing what her plan was all along. My eyes flung to her body laying on the plain. I grabbed the car door handle, and I pulled viciously. My ready hands grasped the knife, as I hurdled toward her. The knife came down quickly, slashing her throat. In the desolate plain, I laughed to myself saying, the job is mine!
Sincerely,
Your new history professor