A Long-Dead Mother is Kidnapped.

So I was looking at a writing prompt site, and one of the prompts that appeared was ‘A long-dead mother is kidnapped.’ And I couldn’t resist writing the following:

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A middle aged man sits alone in his living room reading the paper. He reached one hand up to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and turned the page. His cell phone sitting on the coffee table begins vibrating.

‘Who would be calling me at this hour?’ he wonders. He picks up the phone and frowns that he doesn’t recognize the number or even the area code.

“Hello?”

“I’ve got your mom! I’m going to slit her fucking throat if you don’t show up at Wembley Park tomorrow at midnight with 500 grand in cash!” He could hear a muffled woman’s voice crying in the background coming from the other line.

“My mother died four years ago. I think you have the wrong number.” He answered dryly.

“What? Seriously?”

“Fraid so.”

“Shit… Your name isn’t Carl?”

“Francis.”

“Dammit… Sorry to have bothered you!” The caller hung up.

Francis looked at his phone with a small frown and a raised brow. He set it back on the table with a sigh and returned to reading his paper.

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