Bonus Episode | One Cold Night

0:05 Hey, everyone. Paul here. Today we're sharing a short Halloween treat. As listeners know, teenage Robin Murphy wanted to be a writer and a journalist when she grew up. She gave some of her short stories and essays to her friend James Blaisdell, and a few of them were included in the police files. This one was written the same year she vanished, and frankly, it jumped out at us. Although Robin never finish the story, we thought we'd share the fragment we found with you. An excerpt from One Cold Night by Robin Murphy, read by Kathleen Horne.

1:07 The night air was cold and still, and it seemed that everything had frozen, that everyone had drifted off into emotionless, timeless sleep, recuperating from all the trick-or-treating and the partying, all the laughter and loud noise. It was almost 2.30 in the morning. Nothing, no one was moving aside from a stray cat or a fallen leaf blown by the bitter wind. Everything was gone, it seemed. The weary streets were absolutely deserted. Hurried footsteps broke through the silence. As disturbing as a bolt of lightning striking a jaded tree, Kimber cursed herself for staying so long at her friend's party.

2:00 But then her car might have still broken down, and she still might have been stuck. but maybe she wouldn't have been the only person on a dark road in the middle of nowhere. She had only another block or so until she reached her apartment, but her shoes were so loud she wished she could remove them. The shattered glass and broken eggs that littered the streets prevented her, so she tried to walk slower, softer, but then the cold numbed her legs and her anxiety grew, and so she hurried on. She was scared, though she had trouble admitting it to herself without using the excuse of paranoia.

2:42 She was not paranoid. It was merely the lateness of the hour or the eerie quietness of the post-midnight that brought out the fear instinct within her. That was what made her quicken her step, chilling her insides as she took in the frozen air. Puffs of icy fog formed at her mouth and made color rise in her cheeks and nose. God, Kimber hated this neighborhood. She hated it while growing up, and she hated it now. It was only a matter of time before her savings got large enough to allow her to move. It had only been a matter of time for years, true, but soon, very soon, she noted as she looked around, it would be the right time to finally leave. Anything could happen in these streets, and lots had. Anybody could appear out of nowhere, pull

3:32 her with them back into that nowhere just as quickly... And there would be no one to help her. No one to hear her scream. She walked faster. And then she stopped. She had to. The icy edge of a blade that glimmered in the frozen moonlight held her at bay. Her arm was twisted back at a painful angle. She tried not to breathe to swallow. The blade was so cold, so close. The grip on her arm was firm and warm breath hissed in her ear. Good girlie. You've done this before, haven't you? He took the knife away only slightly and only long enough to drag her away from the street. I am going to die, she thought. I'm going to get even colder. I'm going to die. But she could still get away, she argued silently. As long

4:39 as he put down that knife. She prayed for him to do so. He pulled her into the alleyway between two apartments. It stunk of garbage. He paused and held the knife up, looking at the way the moonlight made it glimmer as he twisted his wrist back and forth, making her watch. If you scream... He left the sentence unfinished to let her imagination run wild. He looked absolutely mad.

5:10 His breath stank of alcohol and his hand quivered in anticipation, hoping that she would move. His eyes wandered back and forth from Kimber to the blade, waiting, thinking of what he could do with what he held in one hand to what he held in the other. Slowly, slightly, the grip in her wrist was loosened. but she didn't dare move yet. Go on, girly, run, his nauseating breath hissed, and you'll be dead before you take one little step.

5:46 What do you think? No one would ever, ever know. He looked away, considering his eyes were very focused, very clear. She would remember them for the rest of her life. A little blood, he murmured, pressing the blade closer, watching as a few droplets of crimson escaped and ran down her neck. That's what vampires like, you know? You ever see a real vampire? What do you want? Kim Bird stared at his hand, at the knife. The real question is, what do you want, baby? He used the blunt edge of the blade to level her chin and licked his lips.

6:32 Kimber was freezing. She felt death approaching, waiting patiently beyond the alleyway to come and claim what would soon be his. She wondered if when her flesh was severed, the blood would freeze and people would be confused as to the cause of her death. Until, of course, she defrosted. And then it would start to get real messy. No, she thought, stop it. Stop thinking like this. but suddenly, like a flash in the darkness, she found a light of hope, a way out. She lifted her hand up to his face, and the knife slowly, cautiously drew away from her neck, anticipating excitedly her next move in this newfound game. You want to know what I want, she said soothingly, her hand trailed down his unshaven face. She leaned over as

7:29 if to whisper the answer to him. but instead lifted her free hand and grabbed the knife, pushing it away from her. He tried to shake her hand off of his. If he had been thinking straight, he would have knocked her down. He would have struck her. But it was late. They were both tired and cold. Both their hands held the knife, and something had to happen. Someone had to lose.