Archive | May, 2013

Chapter Nine: The Spider

25 May
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Hating mornings doesn’t help. You still have to get out of bed.

Gotta answer the question though. How does a killer think of themselves? And …

Serial killers. Are they addicted to killing? Don’t want that to happen. Sure as hell don’t want to go through life having to resist the urge to kill people. If you train the way a serial killer trains do you become one yourself?

Still you have to train somehow.

Freezing and not going through with it the first time is not an option. It would lose everything. Plus probably go to jail for the attempt. No. No. No.

Got to train. Got to think of the target as an IT.

How do killers think of themselves?

This is a problem. It can be solved. You solve that problem by killing IT.

No. Don’t want to think of yourself as a killer. A solver, but that sounds kind of stupid. Avenger? There is nothing to avenge. Nothing has happened yet. Your job is to keep it that way. Stop it from happening.

You didn’t choose your job, your job chose you, but it is still your job.

Stopper? No. That sounds like a cork in a Champaign bottle.

Keeper? That sounds just plain stupid.

“I am the solution.” How does that sound?

The Solution had better start solving something. Mastering the art.

A lot of serial killers go after those who are least likely to be missed or sought after. By killing prostitutes, transients, drug addicts, they can go for years without anyone realizing a serial killer is even operating. Perhaps that should be the place to start.

No, not start. The first human to kill, the practice target to make sure you don’t screw up on the real deal. Even serial killers don’t start with humans they start with…

What?

Never killed anything before. Not a bug. Not a spider. Hate spiders. Tell the truth, spiders are scary. Killing a spider is scary.

Damn. Like you are not afraid to kill a person? Like you are not afraid that you’ll do it and then get caught? Like you are not afraid you’ll botch it up and go to jail without having done it? Like you are not afraid you’ll chicken out and not do it at all and just let your life be ruined? Other’s lives too.

Yeah. Okay, scared. Admit it. Need a drink. Can’t drink: need a clear head. Practice. Need to practice murder.

How? Bombers during the war caused havoc that killed innocent women and children, but they felt no guilt because they were removed from the chaos. They pressed a button. They did not see the faces of the people they killed. Kind of like a computer game, maybe even less personal.

There is a daddy-long-legs in the garage. Everyone says it is a harmless spider, but it is still a spider. There is also an ice scraper in the garage, has about a three-foot handle. Is that far enough away?

Okay, get up your nerve. You are The Solution and the only solution is to kill it. Go to the garage: Open the door: Turn on the light.

Yep, there is the spider in the corner. Just where it was last time.

Now the ice scraper, hanging on the wall, just where it was last time.

Here I stand, in the middle of the room, just where I stood last time.

Hating the spider.

Fearing the spider.

Believing the spider knows I am looking at it.

Believing the spider knows I am afraid of it.

But not tonight.

Tonight I get my hand, both hands, on the ice scraper, I force myself to yank it off the wall. There is a lead pipe in my chest that wants to weld me to the ground and keep me from moving. I know it is my fear. My unreasonable fear. The fear that wants to suck the life out of me just as that spider would if it were big enough.

It wants to.

I know it wants to.

It wiggled in its web. It turned to look at me, I know it did. It is watching me.

It wants to know what I am doing.

I stare at the spider.

The spider stares at me.

If I can’t kill a spider how can I kill a human being? I must kill the spider. I must: I must. I have to kill the spider.

I will kill the spider.

I am the Solution. The solution is to kill IT.

Remember, It is not a spider, It is not a human being. It is an It and I must kill It.

I charge the spider holding the ice scraper with both hands in front of me.

“Die, It, die.”

© 2013 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Eight: The Proposal

18 May
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L C went out with Raymond Stanhouser a couple of times. It was okay. Kind of fun but not romantic or exciting. The biggest thing was she decided she did not want to start out life as a full time mother.

Guinevere was at a fun age. Everything was new and over flowing with excitement. Watching a caterpillar crawl across a leaf was a wonderful adventure. Nothing was trite, dull, or boring. Learning the difference between friendly bugs you could hold in your hand and unfriendly bugs that bit opened up a new world.

Stanhouser’s children were beyond all of that. They were dealing with grades and sports and school and friends. Butterflies were “uh huh.” Trees were so many cords of wood, lawns were to be mowed on weekends if they could not escape doing it altogether.

Guinevere and Rocko, L C’s gold and white chihuahua, were playmates. L C took care of both of them. Stanhouser’s children were at an age when they wanted to “own” a dog, but did not want to take the time to feed it.

L C was not ready to see herself as a soccer mom. It was not a bad future to look forward too, at twenty-five or thirty it might be a lot of fun. But not at twenty.

Still Raymond never asked her directly. And, although she knew he wanted more than just a one night stand or a current girlfriend, he never told her how he felt about her or what he wanted. Had he made it clear she might not have dated anyone else. She might have committed herself to his future. But he did not.

When Nathaniel asked her out she did not hesitate. He was closer to her own age and had just entered a  high-tech career as a digital marketing agent with a promising future.

When Nathaniel was with her she was his entire world. No cell phones, no meetings, for the time they were together he was hers. That was so nice.

It was as though her taking a profound interest in Nathaniel was the trigger that caused Raymond to pour out his hopes and desires for their future. The day after she began thinking of herself and Nathaniel as a  couple Raymond came up to her, in the grocery store of all places. In the fruit section, when she was standing in front of apples and oranges, thinking of making a fruit salad. There was no preamble.

“You are the most precious thing in my life. I love you. I want you to marry me. I want you to love my children. I want them to love you.”

It seemed the oddest of times and the oddest of places to make such a confession. It was as though she had been thinking of making fruit salad and now she was being asked to choose between apples and oranges. She couldn’t make the decision. Nor did she feel right about turning him down, telling him she was seeing someone else, in the center of his own grocery store. Something like that should be said on neutral ground. It would not even sound right if it were done in the parking lot.

What she said was, “This is so sudden. I hadn’t… I didn’t… That you liked me that much. I really enjoy being a nanny,” she hedged. ”And I have to spend time thinking about this. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a full-time mommy. I mean I think the world of you, and I don’t know the children that well yet.”

“You will get to know them and they will get to know you. And love you as I do.” He stated.

Later she wondered why she did not just come out and tell him, “I’m seeing someone else and I think it might be serious.” She did not try to answer the question because in her heart of hearts she knew the answer. If something went wrong between her and Nathaniel she wanted to be able to go back to dating Raymond without him feeling she picked him up on the rebound. A subconscious intention she would rather hide from herself.

 

 

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Chapter Seven: Lonnie

11 May
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The morning was cold. The morning was crisp. The colors were sharp. The cloud looked like you could lick it for an ice cream cone.

Whew! That shit he got today was way over the top. Lonnie felt he was almost psychic. He saw and understood everything so sharp. The normal world was like an old black and white TV show. This was like, going past High Definition, going past Blu-Ray, into the next epoch of experience. Everything was sharp. Everything stood out clear. The world was in 3D and he was a ring tailed avatar.

Today he was able to follow Cody with ease, and stay far enough back Cody wouldn’t catch on. Yeah. Because Cody had training. You had to be sharp with him. Right now he was standing behind a long black car looking over the top of it as Cody crossed the street at the stop sign and disappeared around the corner. Lonnie jay walked and race walked to the corner to see where Cody went. If he kept this up, and kept doing the right crap he was going to be the best tail artist in the whole flipping world.

It was a privilege just to be the best friend of Cody. Man, yeah. Who wouldn’t want to be the best friend of a guy who was so smart, so cool, so mock, he was working with the CIA. Maybe someday Cody could get him a job working for the CIA too. Course Lonnie wasn’t smart like Cody. Cody knew all about electronics and videos, and all kinds of stuff like that. Cody always seemed to know the right things. Like how to score the hottest chicks and the strongest drugs, how to hot wire a car and how to bug a house. Hey, maybe being the best tail artist in the whole world would get him a job with the CIA someday too. They need people who can tail. Always gotta be somebody the CIA wants tailed. And Lonnie was the best. He was proving it right now.

Cody was jaywalking. Probably trying to make a tail, like him, reveal himself by jaywalking behind him. But Lonnie was too smart for stuff like that. He walked past, noting the building where Cody went into, crossing at the walk and doubling back with a fast-footed gate keeping close to the walls of the buildings.

Lonnie went inside the door where Cody had disappeared. It was dank. It didn’t look like from the outside but inside it was a house converted into a run down apartment building. The hallway smelled of dog piss. It splits. A short hallway to an open window looking out on a patch of uncared for grass and a longer hallway leading to a partly opened door leading to an alley. Choosing the partly opened door, Lonnie sprinted down the hall. He had not expected the floor to complain so much as he put his weight on it at each step. He didn’t slow down or stop because the damage had already been done and anyone looking out now would see him. So he sprinted faster.

Out the door. It wouldn’t close fully behind him.

No Cody.

No sign of anyone. He looked around the corner where the window opened out on the unkempt grass. There was somebody climbing in, but it wasn’t Cody.

Lonnie wandered around for a while and then went home.

 

 

(c) 2013 all rights reserved.

Chapter Six: The Nightmare

3 May
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Kick the covers off using both feet.

“Damn, damn, damn.”

Daylight. Morning. I hate mornings. No one should have to get up until at least noon.

Not much sleep last night, nightmares full of blood and body parts and angry people who refused to die. But then who sleeps well when they just decided to become a murderer the night before?

Who decides to become a murderer anyway? Besides me of course.

That alone is enough to give a person nightmares.

And what about me?

So I ask myself. Can you even murder anybody? You’ve never killed anything in your life. Not even a bug. Not a bee, not a spider, not even a fly.

Nothing.

How in hell do you kill a human being?

Not like there is a school you can go to that will give you online training in the privacy of your own home. Who teaches murder?

Can you Google that? You can Google everything else. Go to Google, all the information that can be found is here somewhere.

Not safe.

If you did find the answer on the net some Abby Sciuto somewhere would find out you had and then what?

Premeditated murder.

Don’t want that. If something goes wrong and you are caught red-handed you want to be able to claim it was spur of the moment: Self defense preferably. What if something goes wrong? Better think about that too. Better think about that a lot.

Premeditated murder. If someone really premeditated it the first priority would be to get away with it. By law premeditation means intending to do it, even minutes ahead of actually doing it. But real premeditation? That requires careful planing in advance. Which is a nasty snag because I can only take so much time or it will be too late.

Back to the question.

How do you learn to kill?

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A great WordPress.com site

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

War By Other Means

Politics & Philosophy

this is... The Neighborhood

the Story within the Story

stillness of heart

MUSINGS : CRITICISM : HISTORY : PASSION

The Guilty Preacher Man

abandoned illustrations

matchtall

A tall women amazon model WordPress.com sit

Three Wise Guys

Best not to think about it

Mister G Kids

A daily comic about real stuff little kids say in school. By Matt Gajdoš

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

The Judy-Jodie and Kelli Memorial Blog

A great WordPress.com site

A Financial Life Coach

Your Financial Life Coach

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Dysfunctional Literacy

The world's most entertaining literary blog!

Top 10 of Anything and Everything - The Fun Top Ten Blog

Animals, Gift Ideas, Travel, Books, Recycling Ideas and Many, Many More

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Thoughts

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