Taken


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3. A Note

A few days went by since I “ran away”, and I hadn’t gone to school either. One day when I went back after asking people around town about my dad, I found a note on the door:

Hi Harry. Sorry I stole your dad away from you, but I needed him. Let’s just say we have some unfinished business to settle. If you want to see him again, tomorrow, come to the back door of the clock tower that leads to the top at 5 pm. See you then.

Sincerely,

Mr. X

I stood there in shock for a while wondering if I was actually going to be able to see my dad again. It seemed too good to be true. I felt like it was all a trap. Mr. X was just luring me there so he would be able to take me away too. But one thing was for sure. I had to go. Any chance of seeing my dad again was worth it. But before I went, I did a little research.

It turned out that the clock tower had some crazy conspiracies about it. Some people say that a lot of people have been murdered there and they never get solved because people are too afraid to go in. Others say that it’s almost impossible to get in and the few that do normally don’t make it out. At first, it was very discouraging, but I found the address of one of those few and… He lived right across the street!

His name was John Hold and he had moved in a couple of weeks ago. No one had ever seen him leave his house besides getting the newspaper, but luckily for me I had. When he ordered his groceries delivered to his house, I was usually the one who delivered them. So, hopefully he would be willing to talk to me. I had decided that I was going early in the morning, the same time I normally left. I grabbed all the stuff I needed and walked out the door, locking it and putting the spare key in the plant right next to it.

I pulled the hood of my dark grey sweatshirt over my head, trying to keep people from noticing who I was even though there was no one outside this early. I walked swiftly across the street and knocked quietly on Mr. Hold’s door.  I heard quiet and hurried footsteps on the other side of the door. The door opened and an inch and a half of the face of an old man appeared in my view. “Um, Hi Mr. Hold. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?” I asked nervously. “Sure, Harry. Anything for the boy who helps me with the groceries every week and won’t take even a penny in return.”  Earlier I was thinking about accepting those very generous tips, but right then I was happy that I hadn’t. He opened the door all the way and I walked in.

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