The Murder of Spruce Street

It was a pitch-black night on Spruce Street. Lucy’s heels clicked against the cobblestone. She didn’t want to be out so late, but she had no choice. Her parents had demanded that she be home after going to a party without their permission. It had been just a harmless invitation by her friends, and she was desperate to go unless she wanted to look like a coward. 

Now she was beginning to regret it. 

She had initially pleaded that she would take a ride home with her friends in an hour, but her parents had wanted her home now. 

She was especially scared of being out this late at night, but her parents didn’t seem to care.

Lucy walked for another five minutes, with only her footsteps to keep her company. 

Home seemed farther away in the dark, and she was getting more anxious by the second. 

Trees lined the street, and flowers dotted the cobblestone pavement. It was beautiful, but it was eerie. The street was so beautiful that it didn’t even allow cars on it. 

She couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the beauty around her and walked faster.

And then the squealing of tires echoed throughout the air. She could see the headlights of the car in front of her, illuminating a tall man who stood directly in front of it. 

The car then revved its engine and slammed directly into the man, and he yelled out in pain. 

All was quiet for a minute, and then she heard a car door opening.

"He's dead!" a voice yelled.

And then the car drove away as fast as it came.

It was over rapidly. Lucy cried out and closed her eyes, praying that nothing would happen to her.

She awoke with her eyes to the sky, which was blue. 

She then had a flashback. That night, the squealing of car tires, and then a car ramming into a man. She gasped when she remembered her parents’ words the night before. 

She got up and sprinted home, wondering what they were doing. 

As she reached the doorstep, she found all her belongings outside, with a single note: “All we asked for was you to come home. Was that too much?”

She broke down into tears after reading it. She then had an idea. 

She ran her hand across the bottom of the doormat, coming up with a key. 

Before she turned the lock, she hesitated. Was this the right thing to do? It surely was. There was no other option, she reasoned. 

She tiptoed in, looking around. Her parents sat in the living room, with tissues on the floor. They were dabbing their eyes and were in a conversation.

“It isn’t our fault.”

“What mistake did we make while raising her?”

“We did our best. She made a bad choice. We need to move on.”

Lucy couldn’t take it anymore. She rounded the corner and rushed over to her parents- and fell on the ground before them.

“Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry! Something happened, like a car crash or something, someone got murdered, and I fell…”

Lucy’s voice broke apart when her parents got up, and her mother went to the phone. 

Lucy’s mother rang the neighbor, Mrs. Fritz. Mrs. Fritz had always been fond of Lucy, and this was going to be heartbreaking for her. 

“Hi, Mrs. Fritz. Listen, Lucy has been kicked out of the house. Please do not offer her any hospitality.”

She waited for a reply on the other end and hung up. 

Lucy saw steel in her mother’s eyes. They looked at her, maybe because she was standing right at the doorway to the kitchen. 

Lucy backed away, horrified of what she had turned her parents into. 

She ran back outside and crossed the lawn to next door. Maybe Mrs. Fritz would still hold some sympathy for her. They had always been fond of her. 

Lucy rang their bell and impatiently waited. 

Mrs. Fritz opened the door and hesitated for a second before her eyes started darting around. 

Lucy took the opportunity; she started ranting. “Listen, Mrs. Fritz, there was this murderer when I was coming back from the party. I got hit, and like something happened. Just please help, it has been all one giant misunderstanding,” she cried desperately.

Mrs. Fritz’s eyes squared in on her, and she muttered, “All these homeless people on the streets. Ringing the bell and whatnot.” And then she slammed the door in Lucy’s face. 

Lucy sat on the sidewalk and cried. Tears formed a small puddle on the concrete. It was all because of that murderer. And then she began to doubt herself. Was it a murderer? Of course, it was a murderer she convinced herself. That car had seen that person. Besides, it was a walking path. Cars weren’t allowed on Spruce Street. So why would somebody drive onto it? It was a murder, someone with a score to settle. 

Maybe… she would learn something if she visited the site of the accident first? Maybe she could find some clues. But before she ran off, though, she had a change of mind. Maybe she should try the sheriff first. Her life right then was becoming a lot of maybes, she thought. 

So she stomped off to the sheriff’s office. 

She made her way there, stumbling over her heels from the night before.

She burst into the office.

“Mr. Sheriff, Mr. Sheriff, I need to tell you something,” she gasped. 

The Sheriff sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by fellow officers, busy laughing with the rest of his crew. “Hush!” his voice boomed. Everybody fell quiet at once.

“Yes dear, tell me now.” 

Lucy was elated that somebody was listening to her. “Mr. Sheriff, there was a murder on Spruce Street! I was there when it happened, and I got hit too, and I didn’t understand what was happening, and nobody is listening to me! You have got to help me!” Lucy was out of breath when she said this, as she had been ranting for quite some time now. 

The sheriff then said quietly, “And then I told her, you should have grabbed the gun!” 

The whole station roared with laughter, and Lucy couldn’t believe it. Why was nobody listening to her?

She screamed in frustration, and nobody batted an eye. She ran outside again and kicked a tree.

She immediately regretted it and winced. When she opened her eyes, she could make out the silhouette of a tall man… just like the one before the accident. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, making sure her pain wasn’t playing tricks on her. 

She could make out his figure better now, so she ran over with the last bit of energy she had.

She collapsed at his feet, just like how she had at her parents’ not so long ago. She looked up and saw herself face to face with an oriental man. His eyes looked kind, and his figure looked exactly like how it was that night. He looked physically battered, and his beard was unkempt. 

Lucy was sure it was him, so she asked him directly. 

“Was it you? On that night! Where you got hit by that car?”

“Yes dear, that was me,” he gravely replied. He winced, probably remembering the events of the night before. 

“Come on, then!” The sheriff is right there! He isn’t even paying heed to me. I need you to come to make him take me seriously!”

She grabbed his arm and started pulling him along. 

"Listen," said the man. "You're going to accomplish nothing by dragging me in there. They won't listen to me, you, or pay attention to anything you do."

That stopped Lucy in her tracks. She thought for a minute. Wasn't he dead?

"What do you mean?"

As she said it, it dawned on her.

“My dear, they don't listen to the dead."