PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
As soon as the lights went out I knew it was not an accident. And even though I had been preparing for this very moment, I wasn’t prepared at all. I was half hoping my suspicions about Oliver were wrong and nothing would happen. That my Sunday would proceed as normal. Oliver was my neighbor turned nightmare and all because of a misunderstanding about the mail. I had known he was out of town and was doing a neighborly favor by checking his mailbox when I found a severed hand. I knew the next one found would be mine.
More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here.
Kate Cornwell: Stories of my life 
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