Tell a story that begins with a ransom note

     “$1 million to ever see your daughter again”. It’s 3:30 pm. That’s what the note said, scrawled on yellow lined paper, in handwriting resembling that of a young child’s, blue ink. 8 words. 1 sentence. Amazing the impact that can have on you.

                My daughter has been taken. My baby girl. Maybe not my flesh and blood, but still my child, my angel. 15. She’s only 15. Is she ok? Is she hurt? Is she calling out for me right now? What is she thinking? I wonder if she had a lunch. Silly thought at a time like this. I haven’t even opened my door yet.

                “$1 million to ever see your daughter again”. It’s 3:31 pm. I can’t stop seeing the words written there in front of me. Blue ink. Blue like my eyes. Blue like my heart. This must be a nightmare, a trick. My blue ink eyes must be playing a trick on me. It’s not. I know it’s not, but still I hope.

                I hear screaming somewhere. It’s loud and annoying. I wish it would stop. Whoever is screaming needs to stop. It’s me. I’m screaming. I’m screaming and I’m crying and I can’t stop. My throat and lungs burn with the effort but I can’t stop. Maybe she hears me and knows that I will never stop looking for her. I will get her back. My baby. My angel.

                “$1 million to ever see your daughter again”. It’s 3:32 pm. My daughter. My baby girl. She’s been taken, stolen. By who? To where? For what purpose? $1 million. She’s worth so much more than that. More than those 8 words. Than that blue ink. Than that yellow lined paper. I waited so long, tried so hard to get her, and now she’s been taken. Just like that.

                Things are growing. Maybe I’m shrinking. I want to shrink. To curl up and when I open my eyes, everything will be better. Perhaps I’m being swallowed. By time, by God. Is there a god? Surely not. He’d never let something like this happen. What did I do wrong? It’s hard to breathe. Hard to think. I don’t know what’s happening. The screaming has stopped. People are shouting at me now, crowding in close. I wish they’d leave. Everything is black. Silent. Gone.

                “$1 million to ever see your daughter again”. It’s 3:33 pm. I’ll find you.