Alexandria Marie Johnson was murdered on July 23 1993-at least that was what the newspaper said. She was 16. We were neighbors. I was the one who called the police. On July 23, 1994 I walked into my room and found Alexandria alive, standing by a window. Today is July 23, 1994.
Overjoyed with joy, I went over to hug her, then a crash. She went through the window, back first, and fell onto the garden below — exactly how she died one year ago. That newspaper, it seems, was one year too early. Today is July 23, 1994.
The man held out four fingers, and he asked me to count them. “Why, there are four fingers!” I confidently replied. “That is incorrect. I am holding five fingers.” A wave of electricity surged through me. “How many fingers?” All part of the tort— enhanced interrogation procedure.
"Let us move on." I saw them roll in another bagged, squirming captive. When the bag came off, we instantly locked eyes. "Aaron!" They got to her! Her soaked eyes were begging me to save her. And then, on a silver tray, we were presented with 2 guns. The blindfolds went back up.
I hefted the gun in my hand. It was light—plastic! This is a water pistol, I thought. On the mark I whipped the gun around the room, spraying the witches. They melted Oz-style in smoke. Then I took Gina's hand, wiped her eyes, & together we left the coven for the world beyond.