Lioness

The grass hides the predator.  Only part of her face can be seen.  Her eye, golden brown, shows her focus.  The tall golden grass flows in the wind as the lioness lays in wait, her fur keeps her hidden, blending in, even as the grass blows.  Across the watering hole the gazelles graze silently.  Their ears twitch and they start to look around.  The lioness still lays in wait, not a muscle moving.  The gazelles continued to graze as the lioness starts to move to the other side of the watering hole.  She quickly moved to the other side and some of the gazelles raised their heads; not seeing the lioness coming so close.  She crouched down and got ready to pounce. The gazelles started to move away from their spot; out of the sense of fear.  The lioness pounced then; attacking the closest gazelle.  The rest run across the watering hole.  Hoofs hitting the rocks and water splashing; they ran full speed across the water.  The gazelles left the weakest to be killed. When the lioness pounced, claws extended, ripped into the flesh of the gazelle.  Teeth tore into the neck and one bite it was dead.  The lioness picked up the gazelle in her mouth and carries it back to her cubs.  As the lioness gently places the gazelle on the ground, the cubs pounce on the food almost instantly.  They start at the stomach, eating whatever they get to first.  The blood pooled around the gazelle and covered the fur of the cubs.  The lioness is lays close by with a watchful eye on her cubs.  In her eye, you can tell she senses something wrong.  Another lioness is stalking in the nearby tall grass.  Food has been scarce and she was looking for something for her cubs.  The lioness moves closer to her cubs and her fresh kill.  She circles the group a few times and starts a low growl.  As the other lioness comes closer, she leaps towards her and lets out a growl.  The other lioness turns and runs off; knowing her place in the pride.  The other lioness stays crouched down in the grass far off.  Once the cubs start playing with the gazelle’s parts, the lioness helps herself to some fresh meat.  Once she is done, she cleans her paws and grabs her cubs one-by-one and cleans the blood off their fur.  Glancing around the savannah, each animal has their own space and their own way of surviving.

Poem - Music

As the violin keeps on chanting

Guitars are being plucked

Music flows into my ears

No note going unmissed

Just like a symphony surrounding my head

Timpani drums keep the rhythm

The high notes covered by the flutes

Hard notes from the tubas coming up from behind

Directing the waves through a simple hand motion

Louder and softer the music comes in

Telling a simple story through the rise and the fall

Music keeps the rhythm of my heart

On the Spot - Lioness

The grass hides the predator.  Only part of her face can be seen.  Her eye, golden brown, shows her focus.  The tall golden grass flows in the wind as the lioness lays in wait, her fur keeps her hidden, blending in, even as the grass blows.  Across the watering hole the gazelles graze silently.  Their ears twitch and they start to look around.  The lioness still lays in wait, not a muscle moving.  The gazelles continued to graze as the lioness starts to move to the other side of the watering hole.  She quickly moved to the other side and some of the gazelles raised their heads; not seeing the lioness coming so close.  She crouched down and got ready to pounce. The gazelles started to move away from their spot; out of the sense of fear.  The lioness pounced then; attacking the closest gazelle.  The rest run across the watering hole.  Hoofs hitting the rocks and water splashing; they ran full speed across the water.  The gazelles left the weakest to be killed. When the lioness pounced, claws extended, ripped into the flesh of the gazelle.  Teeth tore into the neck and one bite it was dead.  The lioness picked up the gazelle in her mouth and carries it back to her cubs.  As the lioness gently places the gazelle on the ground, the cubs pounce on the food almost instantly.  They start at the stomach, eating whatever they get to first.  The blood pooled around the gazelle and covered the fur of the cubs.  The lioness is lays close by with a watchful eye on her cubs.  In her eye, you can tell she senses something wrong.  Another lioness is stalking in the nearby tall grass.  Food has been scarce and she was looking for something for her cubs.  The lioness moves closer to her cubs and her fresh kill.  She circles the group a few times and starts a low growl.  As the other lioness comes closer, she leaps towards her and lets out a growl.  The other lioness turns and runs off; knowing her place in the pride.  The other lioness stays crouched down in the grass far off.  Once the cubs start playing with the gazelle’s parts, the lioness helps herself to some fresh meat.  Once she is done, she cleans her paws and grabs her cubs one-by-one and cleans the blood off their fur.  Glancing around the savannah, each animal has their own space and their own way of surviving.

Classroom

There is always that one person in class; the one no one really knows.  They seem studious and sometimes way to focused on the class.  They sit in the back of the room and keep up with all the notes.  They put forth very little effort but still pass with an A.  This quiet kid is unapproachable, he can be hostile towards the people who try and be nice.  They maintain a smile on their face but it seems shallow.  The smile sends a chill down my spine.  No one dares to think about what happened to their childhood; nothing good could have happened to them.  I see him in the lunch room with the same smile on his face.  He picks at his food like every other student but he seems less likely to eat it.  Even when I see him around the school that evil smile is on his face.

This kid isn’t alone we discovered the day he trapped us in our math class.

It all began when he started laughing.  The teacher stopped talking and the whole room turned around.  He sat there laughing and laughing; eyes gone wide and mouth open wide.

All of a sudden he stopped. He sat silently and stared right at the teacher.  He slowly stood up from the chair; climbed up on the desk and started walking across the desk tops.  He pulled a small gun out of his pocket.  The whole room started to panic, we were all uneasy.  As he walked, he said “Now, now, now…Let’s see who is in control now.  As everyone panics, I remain calm.  Everything will be fine, as long as you listen.”

He jumped from the desks on the last work and walked up to the white board.  The teacher started towards the window, shaking and unable to grasp the window.

“STOP! You haven’t heard my rules yet.  Why do you want to leave so quickly?  You will have fun today,” he turned around and leaned on the board as he tapped the fun on the board.  His speech was dripping with enjoyment.

He turned around quickly and started scrawling on the board:

Rules of my Classroom

1. My word is law

2. Decisions are important to life

3. You will decide your fate

4. Break my rules and your fate is decided

As he placed the marker down, the clang rang around the room.  Many people started to panic but no one moved.  He looked at everyone and started to smile again.

“Does everyone understand?”  He asked as he spread his arms out ad paced the front of the room, gun grasped in his right hand.

“No questions? Good, now the first decision.  Let’s pair up,” he said as he stood still in the center of the room, hands behind his back.

No one moved, he said pair up but my muscles wouldn’t allow me to.  I stood still but let my eyes connect to my best friend’s.  She moved closer as he boomed “Pair up!”

Everyone shifted around until they had a partner.  “Good, now let’s play a game.  I want one person to grab a pencil, any pencil will do,” he paused to watch everyone grab a pencil, “good, now if you didn’t get a pencil, well I am sorry.”

Everyone started to panic.  I had the pencil in my hand and my friend was looking at it.  I took the pencil and hit it in my pocket.  I wanted to know what was next.

“The game involves the act of murder.  I know we are all good people,” laughing through his sentence, “But now it is time to decide, is your life better than theirs.  Someone will die in the next few minutes in each group or I will kill you both,” he said with no thought.

I looked at the pencil and then back at my friend.  I lunged at her at once.  I decided then and there I wasn’t going to die today.  I started stabbing that simple yellow pencil into her chest.  She scratched me and pulled my hair.  She tried to fight back but finally i got that yellow pencil into her chest.  That last scream made me come back to reality.

He laughed at the front of the room.  I looked around and there were bodies everywhere.  One person from every group was left standing, many shaking yet I was fine.  I was just covered with blood.

He was pleased with our actions and said “Good job, you are of a higher mind, a better person in all actuality.  Being selfish doesn’t make you a bad person; it made you a living person in my classroom.”

Our teacher started to head back to the door.  “Ah, ah, ah…..” we all hear as he starts towards the door.  He pulls out a pencil from his pocket and caught her in the temple.

“We are down to 14 people; does anyone else want to leave?”

No one could move, but the one girl in the front who was crying.  She rushed the door and he let her cling to the door.

He came up behind her and placed his hands on her back.  He slowly lowered his hands on her waist and quietly said “Do you really want to leave after what happened to our teacher?”

She whimpered in reply and tried the door handle again.  He just stood there holding her waist.  His face was close to her ear and he continued to whisper in her ear.  I could hear nothing of their conversation.  She finally stood still.  He lifted his hand to move the hair away from her ear and then followed the curve of her body as his hands fell.  He slopped his hand back into his pocket.

I diverted my eyes before anything else happened.  I heard a light thud and I peeked through my hair at the scene.  He body was lying on the ground, blood pooling from her temple.

He walked back of the front of the room, “Move the desks to the wall,” he demanded, gun now back in his hand in his hand, pointing it at all of us.  We all listened and moved quickly.  As soon as every desk lined the walls, we gathered into the center.

“I want everyone to sit in a circle facing the inside,” he said with a mysterious tone.

We all moved silently into a circle.  I was looking directly at one of the guys in my class.  His face showed he wasn’t afraid but his eyes lied.

“Close your eyes,” I heard from behind me.  “We are going to tell something about ourselves now.  I mean a secret of a sort, something no one knows about you,” he said, his voice traveling around the room.

My eyes remained closed as someone started talking.  “I have not secrets,” I hear from the other side of the circle.  I knew something happened when I heard a grunt form the same place.  I toned out the rest of the talk until it was near me.  I got hit in the back; I guess it is my turn to talk, “I have thought of killing everyone before.”

He continued walking around.  I toned out the rest of the secrets.

“Open your eyes,” spoken into my ear.

I look around and everyone else is dead, blood pooled everywhere.

The bell to change classes rings all around.

Thoughts in Class

Quiet mummers in the background

The teacher talking without an end

Thoughts have wandered to someplace else

Only part of the lecture comes into my ears

I can’t focus on just one thing

Constantly jumping from topic to topic

Scattered thoughts cannot be contained

Still the teacher talks on and on

Students writing their notes quickly

No one knows what I am thinking

Only my thoughts keep running

Circling and circling all my focus is lost

Only writing my thought down on paper

Still the teacher keeps on talking

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Horror Story - Hidden

I wake up, as always, the alarm is blaring and I hear the traffic down below.   I roll over and look at the sky blue wall of my downtown apartment.  I get out of bed and pull up the sheets.  I straighten them all out and make sure there are no wrinkles.  I walk across the gray carpet and to my laptop and start my daily research.   As time flies by I realize that I am running late for work.  I grab a banana off the counter and run out the door.  I go down the elevator and out the main door into the busy New York streets.  I hail a taxi and jump in and say “New York Times.”

I relax and slide down into the black chair and think “This is only the second time this week and I was doing work for my article.”  I start to peel my browning banana when I realize my article is lying on my desk and I am praying that I saved a second one on to my flash drive that is hidden in my desk.  I gaze out the window and chew on my banana, watching the traffic rush by as we finally pulled up to the main building.

“Twenty-two nineteen,” says the driver as I toss him twenty three dollars and leap out of the car and race into the building.  I dodge the main desk and start toward the elevator but my boss came out and wasn’t looking in the best of moods. I dash to the stairs and start the long ascend to the fifth floor.

“This isn’t the first time I have had to do this but yet my body hates me,” I mumble to myself as I round the second flight of stairs and look up and sigh.  I drag myself up the next few flights of stairs and I stumble out the door and lean against the wall to catch my breath.

“Gabriel?  Why did you take the stairs up?  The elevator is working just fine,” my boss, Mr. Frost says as I straighten up and reply “I decided that I need to start getting my exercise in.  The stairs are a great way to do that.”

“Why is it that I feel you are lying to me, St. Patrick?” Mr. Frost replies with a stern glare.

“I am not, swear,” I reply, holding back my smile.

“Get your article to my desk ASAP,” Mr. Frost says as he turns around and goes into his office and the door slams behind him.

I sigh and run to my desk, almost knocking a stack of paper out of an intern’s hands and a cup of coffee out of a secretary’s hand.  I slide into my chair and roll past the computer.  I unlock my desk drawer and snatch the bright red flash drive off the bottom and plug it in.  I scroll through the hundreds of articles and I don’t see my new one.

“Shit.  I really need to save my articles on here more often,” I mumble to myself as I open my e-mail for the article.

“YES!” I say aloud and everyone looks over at me and I click the e-mail attachment, “Sorry, I found what I was looking for.”

I quickly hit the print button and run to the printing room on the other side of the office.  I stand in front of the printer and tap my foot on the ground impatiently.  “Come on, Come on. Print faster!” I yell at the printer.

The paper is finally finished and I grab it and run.  I start toward Mr.  Frost’s office and start back toward my desk to staple my pages together.  I go back to his door and knock on the door.

“Enter,” I hear from Mr. Frost on the other side of the door.

As I open the door, I see Mr. Frost typing at his computer and talking on the phone about business.  “Here is my article,” I say as I place the papers on the desk.  Mr. Frost gives me an angry look and continues to type at the computer.  I quietly leave the room and head back to my desk.  As I finally sit down and start to work on my next article.  There has been no really big news in the city so the most current political standings is the only good headline news for the past week.

I decide to open the Internet and check out other papers.  They are all printing the same thing we are printing.  I open my e-mail and see that police Chief Hanson, sent me an e-mail about a new string of drug busts happening in the last few months.  I smile and say “So much better than politics,”

As I open Word to start typing, I get a phone call from a number I don’t know.

“Hello?” I say.

“Is this Mr. St. Patrick?” a voice replies.

“Yes,” I reply but all I hear after that is the sound of static and the call ends.

I close my phone and set it in my desk drawer as I started to type.  The day blurs and I finally look up from my screen.  The lights are out and no one is left.  The light of my computer screen gives off a light glow in my small cubical.  The soft glow creates shadows all over my desk as I look at a small family picture from Christmas ten years ago; I notice the shadow blocks me out of the picture.  “The reality that my family has disowned me,” I say as I look for my phone.  My phone lights up as I pull open the drawer and I look at the caller ID.  “That same unknown number,” I say.  I press end and put it back in my pocket.

I walked around the silent building to the elevator and I press the small button and lean against the wall.  As I hear the gentle hum of the elevator as it comes up and the bell dings, as the doors open; light floods the floor.  I walk in and hit the first floor button.  I look at the gridded light panel above me and think about the calls I got today.  As the bell dings, my mind is pulled back to reality and I start my walk home.

I stop at a local diner close to my apartment and eat a burger and some fries.  As I sip on my Coke, I gaze out the window at the bright lights from the buildings down the street.

It’s near daybreak and I just can’t sleep any longer.  The nightmares of my childhood haunt me.  I roll over and look at the clock and the face reads “5:00.”  I pull down the covers and walk across the light gray carpet to the balcony door and I watch the cars past me by.

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I watched the sunrise from my quiet neighborhood park.  I was up since 5 am and sleep just wouldn’t come to my eyes.  As I sat on the swing and listened to the birds, I started to think about the lack of work I have had lately.  As a private detective work was limited and right now there was no work.   As I heard the traffic of New York rush hour, I started toward my small white house just two blocks over.  Children were already standing at the nearby bus stop waiting to head to school and I saw people walking for their morning exercise.

As I rounded my street, I could see the white fence of my neighbor’s yard, their small brown dog barked at me as I passed by their house.  “Home sweet home,” I thought as I started up my front walk.  I pulled out the key and slipped it into the lock, the door opened without a sound.  I walked across the light brown hardwood floor to the tiled kitchen to get my day started.  I pulled out the loaf of bread, two eggs, and the orange juice.  As I started to fry my eggs, I put my bread in the toaster, and pulled out a plate and a glass.  As my eggs finished frying, my two pieces of bread popped up and I placed them both on my black plate and poured my orange juice.  I walked to the table and placed my black plate on the red placemat.  I started to eat slowly as the sound of the bus comes around and people leave for work.  The clock slowly ticks to ten.

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 The morning goes by in a haze, the same routine every day, going to the same place.  As I look at the small clock hanging in my cubical, I realize it is already past ten o’clock.  This morning has been a typical quiet day but I know it won’t stay this way.

I got more calls from the unknown number but I ignore them all but I know the police chief, Chief Hanson, is coming in today to discuss the drug busts with me and that will cause people to ask what new big news I got.  Mr. Frost will probably have to call me to his office to discuss the said  big news and then to top off my day, my computer will crash.

The day continues surprisingly smooth, until I decide to head home.  As the time for me to leave comes around, I hit save and then my whole computer decides to corrupt the files and close everything down.  I restart the computer and start to retype my article.  As I quickly type my article the clock strikes eleven and I hit print and save and I head toward the printing room.  As I watch the paper slide out into the tray, my phone rings.  The unknown caller for the fourth time today.  I flip the phone open and say “Hello?”

“Gabriel St. Patrick?” the voice responds.

“Yes, this is him,” I reply.

“Do you know why I am calling you?” the voice asks.

“No. Who are you and why are you calling me?” I say as the phone call ends.  I close the phone and stuff it in my pocket.

I grab the paper and head back to my desk.  I shut the computer down and I store my article in the safest place, my desk.  I lock the drawer and start to leave.

I stroll to the elevator and wait for its arrival.  As I walk into the elevator and listen to the calming music, the dinging bell disturbs my thoughts and I head for home.

As I walk toward my apartment, I sense someone following close behind me.  Every time I turn around, there is no one there.  I decide to take the shortcut home, positive no one is following me.  I place my hand on my small pocket knife and pray that I am actually right.

“Gabriel St. Patrick?” I hear from behind me, the voice reminding me of the phone calls, as it echoes behind me.

“Hello?” I say, stumbling over the word.  I quickly turn around and I look for someone in the dark shadows of the alley way.  Fear in my eyes, tuning my head back and forth.  Suddenly a light laughter floats to my ears from behind me but before I can turn around, I am on the ground.  I feel their weight on my back and I can feel their punches into my head.

My instincts start to kick in and I start to fight back.  I manage to turn around and punch him in the face.  His nose splatters blood on everything and the look in his eyes turns to shock.  He gets off me and backs up to recalculate the situation.  I slip my hand into my pocket and fumble with my pocket knife, almost dropping it.  I close my hand around it as he come closer to me.  He charges at full speed and yells.  I flip open the knife and start to back up, hoping he will back off.   As I straighten up on the wall,  he runs right into me.   I am bending over from the pain in my abdomen, from being sat on, and my knife slips right between his ribs and into his chest.  He manages one last punch as he falls to the ground.

I stumble backward and watch as he slides the knife out of his chest.  The blood flow gets worse and I can’t walk away; my eyes are stuck.  I watch him die; I watch the life flood from his body.  He is dead by my hand.  I don’t feel upset; there is something more than guilt, more like happiness.  This slight feeling of happiness is from knowing I killed him.  I grab the knife off the ground, and head towards my apartment.

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 It is early morning; I woke up at five like always even though I wish I could sleep longer.  I walked to the nearby park and took pictures of the sun coming up over the houses.  I was surprised that I wasn’t the only person there.  There was a young man, late teens, sitting on a bench.  He looked like he had been there all night and his eyes were watery and red.  Before I realized much more about him, I took a picture of him with the morning sun coming up behind him.

I walked by and didn’t say anything.  He reminded me of my childhood friend.  His light brown hair and golden brown eyes revive the memories of Gabriel.  The way his hair shined in the light.  His forever searching golden eyes.  This boy's begging eyes just called for me to reconnect to Gabriel.

I sighed as I recollected my memories and continued by.  I just let my mind drift to happier times.

------------------

 I am recollecting my thoughts as I come back from a late lunch break.  All the work for today is done and I am deciding when to leave.

I come back to my desk and drop into my chair.  Looking around I notice my phone and I pick it up.  I have ten missed calls.  A couple are from Chief Hanson, a few from some unknown numbers.  The last missed call is from Sarah Sinclair, my childhood friend who I haven’t heard from for many years.  She left a short voicemail and asks me to call her back.

I scroll to her number in my contact list and just stare at it for awhile.  I am unsure how this will go but I finally hit send.  “Sarah?” I ask when I hear the phone being picked up.

“This is. Who is this?” she asks in return.

“This is Gabriel.  You asked me to call,” I reply.

“Can I call you back?  I am working on a case.  Thanks for calling me back,” she says, I can hear a smile in her voice.

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” I reply.

“Okay, call you later. Bye,” she says right before the call is ended.

The phone call ends and I start to clock out for the day.  I decide that I need to relax for the rest of the day.  I head to my apartment and collapse on my couch.  The sound of traffic passing me by fills my ears and the dimming light shines through the window as I watch life pass me by.

My thoughts lead to the guilt of the killing.  How it really didn’t bother me, how my life really hasn’t changed.  What changed the most is the itch, the incurable itch to kill again.

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 My morning went by surprisingly smooth, I called Gabriel and he didn’t answer but he called me back later.  It was now my turn to call him back.  When I rounded the corner from the small corner store I decided to call him back.

I waited with the phone next to my ear, listening to the quiet rings. I slow my walk as I listen for Gabriel to answer my call.  Voicemail gets my call yet again.   I slipped my phone back into my pocket and continued home.

It was quiet in my neighborhood.  The children were all at school and I treaded quietly down the side walk.  I could hear the birds singing and the leaves fall from nearby trees.

Police sirens break the silence.  I automatically turn to my house to get the phone.  I need to call the police station; need to find out what happened.

As I dumped my groceries on the table, I grabbed the phone and dialed the number on the note on the counter.  I got a hold of the detective I talked to last week, Detective Cody Miller.

“Hello, Detective Miller.  This is Sarah Sinclair.  What are the police rushing to now?  I hear the sirens just now,” I said hastily.

“I am unsure of what is going on but the site is 24^th Street, one mile down from 14^th.  I want to say it is in an alleyway,” he said in reply.

“Thanks.  I am about to head the scene now.  I am wondering what has happened.”

“Give it ten minutes and then head there.  I might be able to find out more about it."

“Okay, sounds good,” I said before I hung up the phone.

I paced the kitchen; waiting and watching the clock.  Ten minutes went by and I rushed out the door to the car.  I waited in the daily traffic and tried to get there quicker.

I got a call last night about someone wanting me to find their missing boyfriend.  They couldn’t get a hold of them and they have been missing for two days.  I had a feeling that the scene that the cops rushed to was going to be where I needed to be.

As I rounded the corner to the 24^th Street, I saw the police line just a couple car lengths away.  I drove up to the line and explained how I was a detective and I am looking for a missing guy.  He let me through and I parked not that far away.  I walked up to the scene and I heard the police chief call after me.

“Hello Chief Hanson.  What’s going on here?”

“Dead guy found in the alleyway.  What are you doing here?” he asked, as we walked towards the alleyway.

“I got a call from a lady two days ago.  Her boyfriend is missing and I am looking for him.  She sent me a picture.  I came here with a hope to find him or get closer to finding him,”  I replied.

We headed into the alleyway and I saw the guy laying there.  He had a single wound to his chest; looked like a small pocket knife.  There were no other marks to his body.

“That’s him,” I said as I pulled out my phone to show the police chief the picture.

------------------

The sound of the TV is quiet behind me as I hear something about a killing on 24^th Street.

“Isn’t that where I killed that guy? The one I left in the alley way?” I thought to myself.

I turn around slowly and start to watch the news report like everyone else but I realize that I could be writing a story on this.

I start back towards my desk and start to type up the story using the information known to me.  I know I can’t call the police station yet, I have to wait for the time to call.

I finally decide to head home.  The police station couldn’t tell me anything about the murder so my story is done for now.

I arrive at the house and I think about everything that has happened.  The murder won’t leave my mind.  I am itching to kill again.  I just can’t wait much longer.  The thrill of killing is crawling up again.  I can’t get rid of it.  I want to kill again.  I try my hardest just to forget about the killing.

“I can’t kill anyone.  It is wrong, and I did not mean to the first time.  I will lose my job and get put in jail,” I thought to myself, trying to convince myself, that is all I need to think.

I shrug off the thought and start to make dinner.

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It was late when I finally arrived back to my house.  Explaining almost nothing to the lady who called me about her boyfriend.  I am still not sure who killed him or why but I had to deliver the bad news; her boyfriend is dead.

When I finally did get home, I rolled right into my bed.  Still in my jeans and t-shirt, I laid there thinking about getting back up and taking a shower but when I was thinking my eyes drifted closed.

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The alarm goes off as always and I sit up quickly.  The sky blue walls come into my vision and I recall what has happened as I click the alarm button.  I pull my legs out from beneath the sheets and begin my day like normal, today doesn’t feel like a normal day though.  I am much to calm and not worried about work for this to me a normal day.

As I head towards the office building, I know I can’t resist the urge to kill again.  It is building up inside and it is ready to escape.  It is like a monster clawing its way out and it is ready to play.  I try to suppress the urge as much as I can but it starts to creep up all day long.  This monster wants out.

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Today was a typical day in killer hunting; I made many phone calls, was put on hold for hours and I couldn’t tell you how many times I was hung up on.  I finally gave up for the day around six and headed to central park.  I walked the park about seven times, thinking about the case, the case files and the witness comments.  This stress is going to eat me alive.

The next day was completely different, I got answers and the case files made sense.  Yesterday was just a bad day and I am unsure of why.  The killer was still unknown to me and there hasn’t been anymore killings in the city.  As the sun started to set I headed out into town to see the city life.

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The city life is all around me and I can’t escape my instinct to kill again.  That is all I am thinking about and the only thing that keeps me going.  I start my look for a new target.  Anyone could be next, anyone around me.  I spot this older lady, about mid-forties and she gives me a disgusted look from across the street.

“She is next,” I whisper to myself.

The look in her eyes set me off.  I want to kill her now but there was no point in killing her in the crowd of people.  She would have to wait.

I started following her and discovered where she lives, a small apartment complex made of  brick in the more suburban part of the city.  She lives on the fourth floor in room D.  This all I need to know for my plans to be put in action.

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I decided today to go see my mother in the city.  The brick built building looks worn down and the stairs to the fourth floor look worse.  I knock on her door and there was no answer.

She doesn’t have a cell phone, so I decided to take the day off and spend it in the city.
The day went by with no problems and I went shopping around in the city and I went all around town.  I didn't buy much but I left happy and with a lighter wallet than when I started. 

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 I come back when it is dark. I waited for awhile and then she comes out on to the roof.  Unknown to me as of why but I start up the stairs to finish my deed.  I put the small knife back into my pocket and there was a swift change in my plans.  My plans are now to shove her off the roof.

She is there silently, staring at the night sky.  She seems peaceful as the stars twinkle above, hidden by the night sky.  Her short graying hair is nearly combed back and her head is tilted back.  My foot steps are hardly heard and my arms are reaching out in front of me.  I push forward with barely any thrust.  She falls slowly to the ground.  She seems to float as she falls to the ground, I sink to the edge of the roof and start to second guess my natural instincts.  She was dead there; bones broken and just laying there.

I started down the short stairs to the inside of the building.  Down the four flights of stairs, I hear my foot steps echo in the stairwell, making me uneasy. My breathing is uneven and my hands start to twitch. I am nervous of what I will see when I make it down the stairs to see the body laying there.

Horror Story - Coincidentally

This is the second part of the story.  The first part is Hidden and it is a work in progress. If there is anything that should be fixed in this story, please make a comment.

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I wake up at exactly eight o’clock.  I push the sheets down to my knees and slip my legs out from under the sheets and place my feet on the light gray carpet.  As I slowly stand up, I stretch my arms over my head.   I turn around and pull the sheets up and smooth out the wrinkles.  I head to the bathroom and walk to the small white counter.  The cool touch of the white tile floor sends a quick chill up my spine.  I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and start to brush my teeth.  I count to myself “1-mississippi, 2-mississippi, 3-mississippi….” And change sections after I get to 20.  I then walk back across the soft gray carpet to my closet.  I flip on the dimming light and open the door.  I look at all my clothes, organized by style and color, and slowly make a small circle to see them all.  I finally choose my black dress slacks, and a light blue polo shirt.  I grab my black dress shoes and socks for work and then a black pair of gym shorts and a light blue t-shirt and tennis shoes for my run and leave the closet.  I flip the lights back off and walk to my bed.  I put them on the side of the bed near the bathroom.  My clothes are laid on the bed side by side and I go back into the bathroom.  I turn the shower on to the highest setting and pull out my white towel.  I quickly take a shower and dry off as I walk back on to the gray carpet.  I get dressed and smooth all the wrinkles out of my shirt and pants.  I then sit down on my bed and put on my left shoe and then my right shoe.  I stand back up and turn around and smooth the wrinkles out of the sheets and head to the basic white door.  I open the door without a squeak and walk on to the hardwood floor.  I listen to the slow tick-tock of the clock and match my pace to its rhythm.

            As I hit the slick white tile, I look up at the clock to check the time. “8:40” I say to myself.  I slowly walk around the chestnut table, running my finger across the top, and to the refrigerator.  Inside I look at my breakfast supplies: eggs, cheese and bacon.  I pull them all out and lay them in a line of eggs, bacon, and cheese.  I then slowly turn around and walk to the pantry to get the bread off of the second shelf.  I then go back to the counter and lay the bread next to the cheese.  I pull out two pieces of the white bread and put them in the white toaster on the medium setting.  I then pulled a frying pan off the rack of clean dishes and placed it on the stove top and fried up my two eggs.  When the eggs are almost done I throw in the bacon that I fried and the cheese and it finishes just as the toast is done. I pull the toast out and scoop the eggs out of the pan. I place them on a red and black designed plate and set it down in front of my chair and walk back to the refrigerator and get my glass of orange juice.  As I sit back down I go through my plan of things to do today: run from 9:15 to 9:45, work from 10 am to 8 pm and then walk through the park from 8:30 pm to 9:30 pm, if possible.

By the time I finish eating it was 9:10, so I head back to the smooth hardwood and go to the staircase and head up to the computer room.  As I listen for the stairs to make a noise all I hear is the tick-tock if the clock.  I swiftly head to the computer room and sit in the black chair.  I wait silently as the computer comes to life.  As I wait I think “Today is a day of passion.”  As the computer comes to life I click on the internet and look at the other top headlines for today in Chicago.

As 9:15 comes to show on the face of the clock, I turn off the computer and head to my garage door.  I get into my red Jeep and drive to the nearby park, 6^th Street Park, and start my daily run.  I run counter-clockwise around the park while everyone else runs clockwise.  I see the small play structure and the creek many kids play in during the summer.  Spring in Chicago is still to chilly for most to take a dip in the creek. When I run, I make sure to miss the cracks in the sidewalk.  Not because of the superstition but because of the imperfection. As I run my four laps, I watch the same group of six people run by.  In the group there is one woman that steps on almost every crack around the park.  The faults in the sidewalk aren’t to blame but the missing the imperfection should be common.  Making the world perfect should be on most people’s minds.

I finally leave the park with anger rising in my chest.  That lady always makes my anger rise.  I get back to my Jeep and I climb in and turn on the classical music and relax.  As I arrive at my house at 9:45, I pull into the garage and walk back to the hardwood floor and walk down the bare hallway to my room.  My feet hit the gray carpet and I walk to my bed.  Clothes for work are laid out and put on my black slacks and dark blue polo shirt and shiny black dress shoes.

I quickly get back to the garage and get in my Jeep and drive off to work.

My office building is about 5 minutes away.  As I walk into the red brick office building I look up at the sign, Chicago Tribune in bold black letters.  As I walk through the door I hear “Hello Patrick! How are you doing today?” from the secretary.

“I am doing well. How about you?” I reply, as I walk to the elevator in the hall next to her desk.

As I wait for the elevator I think about the lady in the park.  I think about how angry she makes me and how much she flaws the world.  In the silence of the lobby, all I hear is the sound of the elevator coming down and the tick-tock of the clock above the desk.  When the elevator comes, I hear the ding of the bell and the sound of the doors sliding open.  I walk in and listen to the elevator music as I ride up to the 5^th floor.  I exit the elevator and pass by David.

“Hey!  Patrick?  Are you listening?  I have something for you to write about.  It will be great headline news,” David says.

“Just tell me.  I have to try and finish the headline I started last night for tomorrow’s newspaper, and finish it by tonight,” I reply as we walk towards my desk.

“You should write about the community’s plan to make the streets safer for children to walk on.  It will show we really care,” says David.

“That sounds more like a story Katie would write about in the Community section,” I reply as I look at the plaque on my desk.  “Patrick Seems” engraved in the gold, and all I want to do is turn it down so no one can see my name.

My name represents the things I have done.  I have done many things and have gotten away.  I changed my name and the city I live in but yet my old self still follows me.  With the first crime came guilt and the second one came less until now.  With the urge to kill a sixth person comes no guilt but only desire.  “Today is a day of passion” I whisper loud enough from only my ears.

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It is 9:15 and I finally start my day.  I have to go for my daily run to the Chicago Tribune office and make a stop and talk to Patrick to see if he has any new crimes for me.  Patrick is my go to guy.

As I started my run the to the Chicago Tribune, I run to the 6^th Street Park, as always and run around the track.  When I finish my four laps around the track I head back to my house then run to the Chicago Tribune by 10 o’clock.

I arrive in front of Patrick’s desk and his back is turned to me.  “Knock, knock?  Is anyone here? Earth to Patrick.” I said.

“Hey Sarah! I have nothing new for you.  Are you still hunting down the note killer?” Patrick replied.

“Yeah.  He is getting harder and harder to track down but he killed my mother and I will find him.” I replied.

“I will let you know when I find anything.  See you tomorrow, Sarah,” Patrick says to me as I walk away.

“See you tomorrow.  Same time as always,” I yelled back.

As I left the building to run back home I decide that taking pictures in the park would be nice.  So I headed back to the 6^th Street Park to take some pictures before all the kids head over there again.  As I arrived at the park there were lots of kids there today.  I still took pictures but I asked their daycare teacher before I took them.

At noon I decided to go and see if Patrick would join me for lunch.  I put my camera in my pocket and started my run to his office.  When I arrived I went up to his floor and stood at his desk and asked “So how does lunch sound to you?  I really don’t want to go alone.”

“That sounds great,” Patrick replied.

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Around noon Sarah shows up at my desk and asked me to join her for lunch.  I told her that that was a good plan.

As I finish up the last of my stuff before we left for Sam’s Deli, David came up and asked “Where are you going?”

“Lunch with Sarah. Why?” I ask.

“Ah. You just keep scrambling around the building and then you leave and then you come back hours later and scramble around the building some more.” David says.

“It is all work related.  I have to go get information for my article.  I will see you later.” I reply as Sarah and I leave for lunch.

We start our slow walk towards Sam’s Deli and when we arrive I get in line and order our normal lunch – ham, turkey, and cheese with a little mayo.  While I order lunch, Sarah gets us a table in the sunlight.

As we eat our lunch, Sarah tells me all about her morning.  She tells me about taking pictures of the daycare class in the park and the pictures of the garden she took.  Listening to her talk about her morning make me swallow my anger for now.  I hid the pain up inside.

After lunch we walk back to my office building and go our separate ways.  I head back up the elevator to my desk and sit down to finish my article.

My current article is on the latest outbreak of bank robberies.  The police are giving the press a good bit of information but knowing the police chief gives you even better information.  In my article, there will as much detail as I can put and my readers will greatly appreciate it.

By the time 10 o’clock rolls onto the clock face, I start to leave the office.  I am one of the last ones, except for David, as always.  By the time the elevator comes and I walk out to my Jeep, I decide not to go to the park for a walk.  I just want to go home and sleep.

As I arrive at my white Victorian house I slow down and pull into the garage and come to a complete stop.  I got out of the car and walk to the door and walk across the white tile to the hardwood floor and then to my gray carpeted bedroom.  As my feet hit the carpet I kick off my shoes and lay on the bed.  I lie down and think “Tomorrow is a day of blood.”

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Around 11 o’clock, I decided to post the pictures form the park.  When I took the pictures I told the daycare teacher the web address and my cell phone number so that she could let the parents see all the pictures I took.

After I posted all my pictures, I decided to continue with my mission and hunt for the note killer.  I discovered the other day that he moved to the north east part of the country and the hard part is going to be finding out what area.

After hours of searching and pain staking staring at the computer screen I gave up and walked across the gray carpet to the white tiled bathroom to brush my teeth.  After I was done brushing my teeth I walked back across the apartment and go to my bed.  I pulled down the

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I wake up at exactly 8 o’clock and get ready for my daily run in 6^th Street Park, exactly like every day.  As I start my four laps, impulse starts to take over and all the desire of killing has come rushing back to me.  I ran my typical laps and then waited in my Jeep for her to finish.

As she walks up to her blue Honda, I slowly get out of my Jeep and walk up behind her.  I quickly put a rag filled with chloroform to her mouth and held there for a few moments as she slowly went limp.  When she is completely limp, I pick her up and carry her to my Jeep.  I gently place her in the trunk and cover her with a black tarp.  After she was covered, I get in the driver’s seat and drive off to my house.

After I carry her to the basement and tie her to the chair and lock the door as I go to the kitchen, I begin to pace back and forth.  I hear the door bell ring and I quickly head to get the door. “Sarah?  How are you?” I ask her.

“I am doing well.  Can I come in?” Sarah asks.

“Yes, you can.  Let’s sit in the kitchen.” I reply

We walk across the hardwood floor and then the white tile and we finally sit at the round chestnut table.

“Why weren’t you at work this morning?  I showed up at your desk at 10 o’clock like always but you weren’t there,” Sarah states.

“I was doing research for my article,” I quickly reply.

“It is okay,” she says as she looks at her watch, “I have to go now.”

“Okay, let me walk you out,” I say as we cross the hardwood to the front door.

I then head back to the kitchen and pace around the kitchen some more.  When I start to hear the lady in the basement begin to move I silently unlock the door and walk down the stairs quietly.  I slither along the wall, hiding in the shadows.  I slowly start out of the shadows as she stirs even more.  Her eyes get large and fearful.  As I look deep into her forest green eyes, the impulse of the kill heightens. “I am running on impulse but now I must tell you, this poison will paralyze you but yet you will feel everything,” I say as my eyes reflect the cold in my heart, making the fear in her eyes become even worse.

I walk to the nearby table and I pick up the needle.  I walk over and run my finger down her right arm and a chill goes down her spine.  I slide my finger up to her elbow and I find the bright blue vein.  I inject her with the poison and went back to the table.  “Which one? Which one?” I think to myself.

I finally choose the butchers knife, not sharp but not dull, enough to leave my mark.  I walk back over to her.  I turn around and spin the knife on my finger tip and then run my knife along her neck and I can see the shiver in her eyes but her body won’t move.  I slowly untie her and gently place her on the concert floor.  I take the knife and make three small slits on the back of both knees and three small slits on the inside of each elbow.  As I slowly make three slits across her abdomen, blood slowly pools around her body.  I watch the life drain slowly out of her eyes and I say “In a world of imperfection, I am searching for perfection,” as I slowly run the knife across her throat.

As I walk back to the nearby table my OCD kicks in and I have a mad urge to clean up the mess.  I take the knife upstairs with me but before I get too far I turn around and look at the pool of blood around her and I am slightly hypnotized by it.  I continue up the stairs and head to my bedroom.  As I pass through the kitchen I drop the knife into the sink and continue down the hardwood hallway.  When I go into my room, I go to the closet and quickly grab new clothes.  I set the clothes on the bed and walk to the bathroom and got in the shower.  When I get out of the shower I quickly get dressed and walk to the laundry room.  In the laundry room I grab a bucket and a mop and cleaner.  I fill the bucket with warm water and walk to the kitchen to put it down near the top of the stairs.  I then grab the mop and cleaner and go down the stairs with everything.  I splash the bucket of water on top of the woman and watch the water swirl down the drain.

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I watched the water swirl down the drain at the end of my shower.  I got out of the shower and got dressed.  I walked over to the computer to begin more research but before I look too much longer I decided to call my friend Michal up and ask him if he could hack some government files for me. “Hey Michal! I got a favor you can do me. That is if you are able to do it.” I said.

“Well you know that favors are one of my specialties.  What do you need?” Michal asked.

“I need to you to hack some government files and see if you can find any information on a serial killer called the note killer.  He has killed people all over the country and hasn’t killed anyone in the past 3 years,” I said.

“Where have you looked? I know I am not first on the list of ‘hunting things down list’,” replied Michal.

“I looked in all the usual places and all I found out was that he lives in to the north east part of the country.”

“I will look into it but remember that I have other computer things I need to do so I will come to it as fast as I can.”

“Thank you.  I love you, like a lot.  I owe you big time.” I said.

“All the ladies love me and you don’t owe me anything.  Just remember where all you facts come from.” Michal said as he hung up the phone.

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 “Midnight,” I say to myself.

I walk out to the car and get in the driver’s seat and start towards the park.  I placed the woman’s body in the car earlier after I was done cleaning and now it is time to place the body.  I drive into the parking lot and slowly get out of the car.  There is no one in sight so I walk around back and pick her up.  I carry her to the swing set and gently place her in the swing.  I cross her legs and I take her arms and put them around the chain and make her fold her hands like she is praying.  I place the note in between her hands and I wipe all the wrinkles out of her clothes.  I take a few steps back and look at the scene and then I silently leave for my house.

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I woke up at exactly 8 o’clock and begin my day as always.  I get ready for a run and I walk around the house.  I decided to check my e-mail to see if Michal sent me anything.  My inbox was empty and I closed out of my e-mail.  I grabbed my camera and set off for the park.

When I got to the park, I saw a lady sitting in a swing and I took a picture if her and then started my run before I got too preoccupied by taking pictures.  As I ran around to the front of the lady I realized that she had blood along her stomach.  I went over and tapped her on the shoulder and she fell on the ground dead.  I screamed, and then calmed myself enough to call the police.

After the police showed up, they asked me all the normal questions and then told me to stay around the scene for a little bit.  When they unfolded her hands I saw the note.  This has to be the work of the note killer. I waited until they held it up and I read it really quick.  It said “In a world of imperfection, I am searching for perfection.”  “Bingo!!” I think to myself.  I quickly look for the cop that asked me the questions and asked “Can I leave?  Here is my camera; the only picture is the one of this lady.”

“Yes.  You can go.” He replied.

I ran as fast as I could back to my apartment and as I ran in the door I decided to call Michal. “Hey!....Guess what?....The note killer….has struck again….he killed a lady in….Chicago.” I said.

“I know.  It is already on the news and I figured that you were going to want the information now.  Here is what I found: they figure he has traits of OCD, is impulsive and he lives like an average person.  You shouldn’t pant like that when you call someone because they might worry about you because you sound really bad,” Michal told me.

“If people I call after I am done running that is what they get.  And why should they worry about me, they should all know that I am fine.  Thank a lot that helps.  I owe you,” I said as I was hanging up the phone.

I ran over to the office to see if Patrick would like to join me for lunch because I got information on the note killer.  When I walked up to his desk he was looking away and I asked “So what about lunch with me?”

“I guess I can.  I have to finish this article by tonight and I want to try and leave early, so can we hurry?” Patrick said.

“Yeah.  Let’s go then,” I replied.

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I go to lunch with Sarah around noon.  We walk into Sam’s Deli and I get in the line and she looks for a table.  As I head over with lunch in hand, she gestures toward the empty chair.  She tells me all about her trip in the park this morning and I sit and listen with great enthusiasm.

“The note killer has struck again.  He killed some lady and left her in the 6^th Street Park,” Sarah tells me.

“I heard about that.  My next article is all about it.  Can you give me an inside look on the murder scene?” I ask with slight happiness in my eyes.

“Why do you look happy about this?  A lady died Patrick.”

“It is just, I am happy to write about something really important.” I reply as I think “I am lying to your face.  It is really all about the way you talk about it.  It makes me so happy to hear someone talk about the way I kill someone and how it upsets them.”

Sarah continues to tell me about her hunt for the note killer and my mind starts to wonder.  I look at the typical crowd in the deli.  Lots of people on laptops and cell phones, they are all doing work things.  All these people have to go back to work soon.  “Way too soon in their minds,” I think.

As I look around I notice a man at a nearby table, I realize that he is here every day.  Eating the something and sitting in the same place.  I applause his consist way doing things.  I then notice that something is different.  He is throwing trash on the floor.  I never notice it before but I never sit this close to him.

“Are you going to pick that up?” I ask him nicely as I smile.

“NO, why should I?  They pay someone to do that job,” he says back, with anger in his voice.

“Well that isn’t a good way to look at it.  You should really pick it up,” I say a bit more sternly.

“I don’t think I will,” he says as he dumps the last of his food on the floor and walks to the bathroom.

I pick up his trash and throw it away.  I follow him to the bathroom next.  I go in casually and act like I didn’t go in there because of him.  I watched him wash his hands as I got out of the stall.  While I was in the stall, I pull the shoe lace out of my shoe and put it in my pocket and I check to make sure my gloves are in my pocket.  I walk to the sink and wash my hands as he slowly dries his hands.  While his back is turned I walk up and pin him to the wall.  I then use my shoulder to pin him in place while I put on my gloves. I grab the shoe lace and put it around his neck.  I turn him around so I can watch him die slowly and painfully.  He fights me for the string and I fight back.

He throws punches and claws at my hands as the air slowly is cut off from his lungs that are like a deflating balloon.  His eyes turn really big and the irises turn red as the blood flow is slowed, his pupils get larger and larger making his irises smaller.  I laugh in his ear as I watch him die.  I tell him “The world doesn’t have a heart but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a soul.”

He tries to throw punches, barely missing my face.  I throw a hook punch to his right temple and he goes unconscious.  I drop his body and drag him to the closest stall.  I untie the shoe lace and I then place him on the toilet, retie the shoelace tightly around his neck, and hands in a place of prayer, in complete peace.  I take a few steps back and gaze at the scene.  I remove my gloves and throw them away.  I slowly walk to the sink and scrub my hands clean.  I grab my small note book and write “The world doesn’t have a heart but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a soul.”

I walk back to the main room to find Sarah but she was gone.  On the table there was a note that reads “Sorry I had to leave. See you later.”  I sit down and realize what I have done, so I quickly leave the area and run to the park.

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 I got to the park around 1 o’clock and I walked around the track a couple times.  I went over everything that happened today.  I sat on a bench and started to recall the crime scene and I wrote everything down for Patrick.  “I hope Patrick is alright,” I thought, “He was in the bathroom for a long time.”

As I finished my writing I looked around at the swing where her body was left.  I had this sudden remembrance of the scene at night, but as quickly as it came it vanished.  “I am not sure what that was all about but it is time to head to Patrick’s office to bring this to him,” I calmly said to myself.

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 I finally arrive at the office at 3 o’clock, just as Sarah runs up to me.

“Here is everything from the crime scene I remember,” Sarah says as she hands me a piece of paper.

“Thanks,” I say half-heartily.

I walk back into the lobby and ask the secretary how her day is going and make small talk for a little bit.  I try and avoid the unavoidable – work.

I finally have to go back to work and I go to the elevator and swiftly go to my desk.  I avoid David and continue through my day.

I arrive at home near midnight.

“Midnight again.  What to do,” I whisper to myself.

I hear my neighbor move around in their backyard as I get out of my Jeep.  I walk out front to my solid black mailbox and I slowly open the lid.

As I look inside, I hear “Hey there neighbor!” close by.

“Hello,” I reply as I roll my eyes.

“I have heard a lot of commotion here lately.  What’s been going on?”  He asks cheerfully.

“Not a lot but if you come in I can tell you what I have been doing,” I reply with evil thoughts running through my head.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” He replies.

I lead him into the kitchen through the garage door.

“Wait on second, I think I forgot to lock the front door earlier,” I say to him.

I quickly go around the front of the house and make sure all doors and windows are blocked off and no one can get in or out.

A few nights ago I set up the house like a giant maze, except the only difference is there is only one way out.  My way out.  In each room there is a riddle to help you escape except the escape is to the basement, my lair.  I set up each room to have only this – one note and one piece of tape on the note.

Everything is set up to plan and I head back to the kitchen.  As I walk to my chair, I close the door to the hallway and lock it.  My neighbor looks at me with confusion and I just sit down normally.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask him.

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 I went for a run near 3 am.  I ran past Patrick’s house and there were no signs of life, any lights or sounds.  I was going to knock on the door but I decided that 3 am is too late to knocking on someone’s door.

As I ran back to my house, I got a call from Michal.

“Hey Sarah! I got more information for you,” he said to me.

“What is it?  I am on a run, let me catch my breath,” I said, panting into the phone.

“Well you don’t have to talk, I got more information on the note killer,” said Michal.

“Tell me,” I said in reply.

“The note killer is making more information on himself than he thinks.  I can connect these killings to some killings in New York City.  A guy killed about five people and left them in popular spots all around the city, left sitting in a look of peace.  Every person was killed in a unique way and the kills here are even more different than the ones there.  His signature is the note he leaves but the other part is how he leaves them.  His first kill is the only one that doesn’t match.  The cops suspect that he felt scared and he killed him out of impulse.  They also suspect that he won’t stop because he had a happy feeling form it,” Michal quickly told me.

“That is a great thing.  Now I can try and find him even more by connecting the two cities,” I replied.

“Well I am still searching for things.  Talk to you later,” Michal told me.

“Okay.  Good-bye,” I said as I hung up the phone.

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 He has been running around my house for hours.  He spent well over 4 hours screaming his head off in one of the rooms.  He also sat on the ground rocking back and forth.  When he stopped that he started trying to find his way out.

Now it is time for me to join the hunt.  I have watched him for hours and I know his game.  I go to one of the rooms and I stand in the corner and wait for him.

He walks in after a few minutes and walks to the far wall for the note.  I slink closer into the corner and I watch him, I decide that I can hide and be unnoticed.  A few minutes after he leaves, I walk over to the hidden compartment in the wall and open it.  I turn on the speaker system that I hooked up last week.   I walk back to my office and lock the door.  I sit down and start my game. “You know what you have to do,” I say over the speakers.

I watch him jump.  He looks around and starts to yell at me, “What have I done?”

“The question really is what haven’t you done?” I ask him.

He continues to scramble around my house, looking for the way out.  I know he will never find the way out.  I decide to play a game with him.  I head into one room downstairs and I bring the remote with me.  I hide in the room and wait to hear him come by.  I click the button and you hear “Not much time left,” over the speakers and he dives into the room I am in.  I close the door and hid farther into the corner.  He looks around but I go unnoticed.  He walks back to the door and opens it.  I continued to do this for a little while but he never notices me so I give up and head back to my office.

After a few more hours, he finds his way to my basement.  Now here is where the fun begins.  I wait until he heads down the stairs and I run down the stairs to the top of the basement stairs.  I slam the door closed and I flick on the lights.  I see where I painted on the wall in red, dripping paint, resembling blood, “THE END.”

I can only imagine what his face looks like as I collect my stuff to end his life.  I grab the sedative and my restraints.  I also grab the syringes of poison and I head down the stairs.  I hear my feet pounding on the stairs and him quietly sobbing on the floor.

“What have I done?” he asks through his sobs.

“I told you.  What haven’t you done is the actually question,” I say.

“Please, don’t kill me.  I have a family,” he pleads, looking at me with his big eyes.

“So?  I don’t care about that,” I reply.

“Please?” he pleads, almost crying.

I walk closer to him and corner him against the concrete wall.  I pull the syringe out of my pocket and stab him in the neck.  I push the plunger down and watch the sedative flow into his body.  I slowly turn around and pull out the table and I place the restraints to the table.  I walk to the other table and organize my stuff because my OCD is taking over.

All my tools are organized as I wait.  I wait patiently and just let his hopes die as he goes to sleep.  Finally the sedative works, I lift him off the ground and carry him to the table.  I lay him flat and attach a restraint to each arm and leg.  I make sure all restraints are tight and there is no way to escape.  This is his end.

I walk back to the kitchen and wait for him to awake from his drug induced slumber.  The night drags on and the moon fades to the sun.  Sarah hasn’t been heard from and I hear his stir.

I open the door slowly and I slip into the basement.  I make no sounds as I come to his side.  I grab another syringe, this one filled with poison, and slide the needle into his veins that run along his arms.  “The poison will take time,” I think, as the plunger is pushed down.  I watch the poison seep out of the syringe and into his body.  He fights the restraints, he keeps trying to break free.  Anger fills his eyes but he doesn’t notice that he is helping the poison flow into his body.  The life is slowly drained out of him and I watch his eyes go cold.

After I watch him die slowly, I pick up his clammy body and carry him upstairs to my garage.  I lay him in my Jeep and cover him with the black tarp and I go back inside.  My OCD takes over and I begin to clean everything.  The house looks completely normal; there is no evidence of the past few days.

As the night arrives I bring him out of my jeep and to his front porch. They have a peaceful white swing that is swaying in the slight breeze.  I place him sitting, facing the street with a blank look in his eyes.  In his front pocket I left the note.  The note reads “With many flaws there is no perfection.”

I strolled back to my house and dive off to work.  “Another long day with the people who annoy me most,” I think.

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 I woke up and watched the news, the note killer struck again.  A guy was left in front of his own house to be found by his family.  I heard my cell phone vibrate and fall on the floor.  I run across the room and drop to the ground to answer it.  “Hello?”

“Hey Sarah!  I have more news for you.  The note killer has left a lot of information behind on his path,” Michal said.

“Well Michal, that is great news,” I replied, “Tell me about it.”

“Well he left some DNA on this last kill.  It will take awhile to figure out who it is if he is in the system.”

“That is great news; I have to talk to Patrick about this now.  Talk to you later,”
 I said as I hung up the phone.

I ran to Patrick’s office as always and asked, “So can you come to lunch with me today?  I have more information to share.”

“I can’t today.  I have to finish my article for tomorrow,” Patrick replied.

------------------

 I was in the office for the whole day and I just finished my article about the note killer.  I think to myself “Ironic isn’t it that I am the note killer and I get to write all about myself.”  The cops are telling all of us that he wears gloves and cares about his victim because he puts them in a position of peace and there are no signs of abuse.  It is hard not to laugh when I write this because the cops aren’t going to find me.  Not until I want them to.

10 o’clock was showing on the face of the clock again and I was just getting ready to leave.  All my final edits were done and my laptop was going in my bag, when David walks up and starts asking me questions.

As I am walking towards the elevator, David asks if I can look at his article to make sure it makes sense.  I say “Of course I can,” and walk over to his desk.  I read through his article and tell him things he can change.  As he sits down. I walk to the front of his desk.  I pick up the name plaque and weigh it in my hand.  “Not to heavy but heavy enough to hurt,” I think to myself.  I take the plaque and crash it into David’s head as he starts to sit up.  He screams this death defying screech and I yell “SHUT UP!!!”

            As I yell I swing the plaque into his jaw and I listen to his jaw shatter into millions of pieces.  As I listen to his whimpering, continue to use the plaque to beat him up.  The more he whimpers the harder I hit him.  After what seemed like a million hits, I stop to see if he is dead yet.  He is sitting in his chair limp and bloody.  I look down at the plaque and place it on top of the desk.  I walk over to my desk and change my shirt and pull out a pad of paper and a pen and write the note.

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I went for my daily run and then headed over to Patrick’s office building and there were cops swarming the whole building.  I convinced one of the many cops that I was called in to work and I needed to head in the building.  I got in the elevator and went up to the 5^th floor looking for Patrick and then I saw the scene.  There was blood everywhere and the guys face was so beaten you could barely tell you it was.  Then I saw the note on top of the bloody mess. It said “A name represents everything you have done and everything you are,” but yet this one was different.  On the bottom of the note it was signed “Patrick Seems.”

“Patrick couldn’t have done that.  He is one of the nicest people I know,” I thought to myself as I ran to Patrick’s house.

I knocked on his door and yelled “Patrick! Patrick! Are you there?!?!”

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 I answer the door and I see Sarah staring at me.  I ask “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?” Sarah asks.

“Of course,” I say, as she walks in.  As I close the door I turn around and follow her to the kitchen.  As I was following her she starts to blink in and out of picture. Then she stops and comes into focus.

------------------

 As I walked to the kitchen I asked Patrick “Did you kill all those people?”  He didn’t reply so I turned around and looked at him as vanished from that spot and then reappeared closer to me.

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 We both walk to the table and sit.  I ask her “What do you want?”

“I just want to know if you are the killer, your name is on the note,” she says back.

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I heard the sirens before Patrick did.  I was waiting for them.

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 I hear the sirens and stand up. “Shit,” I say under my breath.

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 All of a sudden he grabbed me by the waist and made me move to the center of the kitchen. I had a hold of her and I slowly pull my gun up and out and rest it against her head.

------------------

 I felt the cool touch of the gun barrel to my temple and his breathing against my neck.

------------------

 I feel her body tense up and I whisper in her ear “I am the note killer.”

------------------

 He chuckled in my ear and then all I heard was the cops.

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 “Patrick, open the door!!! Patrick Seems, open the door!!!” the cops yell at me.  I hold Sarah closer to me and stand my ground.

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I now wait for the shot to go off.  “When is he going to kill me?  When is the end?” I thought to myself.  The cops finally breakdown the door and all they do is stare at us.

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 “Why are they staring?” I ask myself, “Don’t they believe I will kill Sarah?”

------------------

 They need to save me instead of just stare at me.  They are acting like I am the killer.  I didn’t kill anyone.

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 “Say good-bye” I whisper to Sarah.  “Coincidentally this doesn’t change any of the flaws in this world but it makes my world so much better,” I say aloud as I pull the trigger.

------------------

 I could hear the click of the trigger and the cold gun gets pushed in closer to my temple.

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 I feel her body go limp and I listen to the sound of her scream.

I felt his grip become loser and loser.  His last breath against my ear and his body start to fall behind me.

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As  I crumble…

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To the…

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Ground.