Mrs Folsom comes to visit F/Ffff
Posted: Thu Sep 03, 2020 2:44 pm
Anette was washing up after dinner when, suddenly, a hand was pressed against her mouth and she was pressed against the kitchen wall by someone, dressed in a black, hooded catsuit, black gloves and black boots.
"Don't scream or run!" a female voice hissed in her ears. "O.K?"
She nodded and the hand over her mouth was taken away.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" she whispered.
"Who I am is not important, and I want you to do exactly as I tell you." the woman said. "Are you alone?"
At that moment, the kitchen door opened and ten-year old Chloë, dressed in a pink footy pyjama, entered. Her eyes widened at the sight of her mother and a stranger, dressed completely in black.
"Who are you?" she stuttered.
"Ah, eh," Anette desperately stuttered, "This is Mrs. Folsom, from my work. Remember me telling you and your sisters about her?"
Of course there were no Mrs. Folsom working with Anette, and as Chloë was a smart girl, she realized they could be in a lot of trouble.
"Ah, yes." Chloë turned to the intruder. "Good evening, Mrs. Folsom. How do you do?" she said, and curtseyed as she had been taught to do.
"Eh, good evening, sweetie; Chloë was it? I'm very well. Thank you for asking. I'm sorry to barge in like this, but your mother and I had planned on playing a little game with you, your mother and your sisters this evening. She forgot to tell you, I take it?"
"A game!" Chloë's eyes beamed, as she loved playing games, but didn't get the chance that often. "What kind of game?"
"Well," the intruder had to crouch to be able to look Chloë in the eyes, as she was quite small for her age, "you have heard of games where you get tied up, and have to get free as fast as you can, haven't you?"
"Yes, ma'm."
"Well, this is one where your mother tie you and your sisters up, then she gives me something I want and I tie her up. The thing is; you're not allowed to try to get free for one hour after I've left. Have I made myself clear?" The last question was clearly directed at Anette.
"Yes. Perfectly clear, Mrs. Folsom."
"Good. Now, Chloë. I left a bag outside. Would you be a dear and get it for me?"
"What do you want from me? I don't have any cash in the house, and the items that are valuable are marked by the police, and the markings cannot be removed. At least not without destroying the item itself."
"I know," the intruder sighed dramatically, "and that would of course be a damned nuisance, had it been something like that I wanted. But all I want is an old ledger that I know hasn't been tagged, and I know you keep in a safe in your bed room."
"The old ledger?" Anette was stunned. "What do you want with that?"
"Never you mind. Ah; here's Chloë with my bag! Shall we begin?" 'Mrs. Folsom' made a gesture towards the living room.
In the living room, thirteen-year old Sonya, dressed in a red footy pyjama, and fourteen-year old Astrid, dressed in a crimson ditto, sat in the sofa watching a film. They both looked up as the door opened and their mother and youngest sister entered. Astrid turned the sound on the T.V off.
"This is Mrs. Folsom, from mum's work." Chloë said before anyone else had the chance to say anything. "She's come to play a tie-up game with all of us, but we have to wait an hour after she's gone to get free. Neat, huh? Oh, and she wants some old book mum has in the safe in her bed room."
Without saying a word, the girls, who had understood that just about everything Chloë had told them was a lie got to their feet and Chloë stood beside Sonya and they all turned around.
Without a word, 'Mrs. Folsom' handed the bag to Anette, who opened it, took out three lengths of rope, and started tying her daughters' wrists behind their backs. Then, she took three more lengths, made them sit on the sofa, before tying their ankles together. Lastly, she took three handkerchiefs, which she balled up and placed inside her daughters' mouths, and tied scarves over them.
'Mrs. Folsom', who had followed Anette's every move, gave her a quizzical look.
"No; please don't ask." she sighed and shook her head. "Let's just get that ledger, so we can have our evening back; shall we?"
A couple of days later, a message turned up in the local paper. It read:
"To Mrs. Folsom.
We enjoyed the game very much. You're welcome to come over and play some more, whenever you want."
It was signed: "Your friend, Chloë."
"Don't scream or run!" a female voice hissed in her ears. "O.K?"
She nodded and the hand over her mouth was taken away.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" she whispered.
"Who I am is not important, and I want you to do exactly as I tell you." the woman said. "Are you alone?"
At that moment, the kitchen door opened and ten-year old Chloë, dressed in a pink footy pyjama, entered. Her eyes widened at the sight of her mother and a stranger, dressed completely in black.
"Who are you?" she stuttered.
"Ah, eh," Anette desperately stuttered, "This is Mrs. Folsom, from my work. Remember me telling you and your sisters about her?"
Of course there were no Mrs. Folsom working with Anette, and as Chloë was a smart girl, she realized they could be in a lot of trouble.
"Ah, yes." Chloë turned to the intruder. "Good evening, Mrs. Folsom. How do you do?" she said, and curtseyed as she had been taught to do.
"Eh, good evening, sweetie; Chloë was it? I'm very well. Thank you for asking. I'm sorry to barge in like this, but your mother and I had planned on playing a little game with you, your mother and your sisters this evening. She forgot to tell you, I take it?"
"A game!" Chloë's eyes beamed, as she loved playing games, but didn't get the chance that often. "What kind of game?"
"Well," the intruder had to crouch to be able to look Chloë in the eyes, as she was quite small for her age, "you have heard of games where you get tied up, and have to get free as fast as you can, haven't you?"
"Yes, ma'm."
"Well, this is one where your mother tie you and your sisters up, then she gives me something I want and I tie her up. The thing is; you're not allowed to try to get free for one hour after I've left. Have I made myself clear?" The last question was clearly directed at Anette.
"Yes. Perfectly clear, Mrs. Folsom."
"Good. Now, Chloë. I left a bag outside. Would you be a dear and get it for me?"
"What do you want from me? I don't have any cash in the house, and the items that are valuable are marked by the police, and the markings cannot be removed. At least not without destroying the item itself."
"I know," the intruder sighed dramatically, "and that would of course be a damned nuisance, had it been something like that I wanted. But all I want is an old ledger that I know hasn't been tagged, and I know you keep in a safe in your bed room."
"The old ledger?" Anette was stunned. "What do you want with that?"
"Never you mind. Ah; here's Chloë with my bag! Shall we begin?" 'Mrs. Folsom' made a gesture towards the living room.
In the living room, thirteen-year old Sonya, dressed in a red footy pyjama, and fourteen-year old Astrid, dressed in a crimson ditto, sat in the sofa watching a film. They both looked up as the door opened and their mother and youngest sister entered. Astrid turned the sound on the T.V off.
"This is Mrs. Folsom, from mum's work." Chloë said before anyone else had the chance to say anything. "She's come to play a tie-up game with all of us, but we have to wait an hour after she's gone to get free. Neat, huh? Oh, and she wants some old book mum has in the safe in her bed room."
Without saying a word, the girls, who had understood that just about everything Chloë had told them was a lie got to their feet and Chloë stood beside Sonya and they all turned around.
Without a word, 'Mrs. Folsom' handed the bag to Anette, who opened it, took out three lengths of rope, and started tying her daughters' wrists behind their backs. Then, she took three more lengths, made them sit on the sofa, before tying their ankles together. Lastly, she took three handkerchiefs, which she balled up and placed inside her daughters' mouths, and tied scarves over them.
'Mrs. Folsom', who had followed Anette's every move, gave her a quizzical look.
"No; please don't ask." she sighed and shook her head. "Let's just get that ledger, so we can have our evening back; shall we?"
A couple of days later, a message turned up in the local paper. It read:
"To Mrs. Folsom.
We enjoyed the game very much. You're welcome to come over and play some more, whenever you want."
It was signed: "Your friend, Chloë."