The Burnt Chronicles/Chapter 4: (Stan) The Blood-Stained Note.

Hope you guys are having fun with this series, here’s chapter 4 🙂

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CHAPTER 4 (STAN McCalister) the Blood-Stained Note

 

It has been a month since the Burnt Iron Killer died, life was easier to handle now, recently me and my son Ryan, have grown closer as a family. We have been going to see movies and even the occasional baseball game at the Diamond Backs stadium. To be honest, I haven’t been the best father in the world; I have always deprived Ryan of a father figure. Every time my wife was mentioned, I would throw a fit. Or the beer that was in my hand. But that was another time. That’s the past, today was a new day, and my day off.

I woke up one morning in my bedroom, and for the first time I felt full of energy. Like everything was going to be ok again. I open my eyes and look outside my window to the left of my bed. My thoughts were practically void of the Burnt Iron Killer.

It was bright and clear outside, sunlight poured from the window to my right, revealing the atmosphere of the room. The room was painted a light blue; it has always been my wife’s favorite color. This was originally our room, but now I was its only occupant. There were two tan-colored, wooden dressers pushed against each other to the wall at my right. My wife’s cloths were still in there; four Family pictures hung on the wall to my left. However some of them hurt me to even look at them.

The one that caught my eye the most was a picture of Laura and me at the park. I giving her a piggy back ride and Ryan took the picture for us. We were so happy that day; somehow, I forgot how that happiness felt. I forgot about the innocent side of the world, and how things weren’t always so bad. I never thought that happiness could come back to me, after all this time. I sit up then look at that picture. “I’m sorry Laura.” I whispered, my eyes water up as I stare down at my ring on my fourth finger of my left hand. I touched it and looked at the now faded inscription, permanently engraved into it:

‘Forever and always’, it had said. I did miss my wife. God I honestly was a wreck without her, still am. But I promised myself that I would become Ryan’s dad again. I wasn’t going to push him out of my life any more. I had to be there for him and for Laura.

Her death should not mean Ryan’s abandonment. Once more I look to Laura’s picture now thinking to myself only two words: Forever and always

*

I quickly got dressed and walked out my bedroom. I was dressed casually, and not in my usual work tie and suspenders. As I walk down the hall to the stairs, I notice Ryan’s door was wide open. I hear the clanging of cereal hitting the glass of a bowl only to realize he got up early; it’s only Saturday. I continue to walk down stairs and proceed to the kitchen. As I walk through I see Ryan all dressed up, in a red hoodie and jeans. It was the first time I have seen him wear something other than black. “Good morning, dad!” He greets me with a smile. I liked seeing my son smile; it made me smile as well. “Good Morning.” I greet back. I then grab a bowl from the cupboards at the other end of the kitchen and take some milk from the fridge and reached into the cupboard to get the box of Cocoa Puffs.

I sit down at the table Ryan was sitting at, and take a seat across from him. I take a bite of my cereal with my spoon and Ryan continues to eat his cereal. The silence that followed lasted for a good 3 minutes until I decided to speak up.

“I’ve been thinking, Ryan” I tell him. He suddenly looks up at me and gulps down the Cocoa Puffs in his mouth. “What, Dad?” He responds now curious in what I have to say. I pause, and then speak again. “What were you doing at the station that night?” in almost an instant, Ryan’s face grew red. His eyes were slightly wide and his expression was suspicious.

“Um, why?” He stalls. “Because… I don’t think you could have predicted a bomb setting off at the station.” I suggest; Ryan sighs then looks down at his cereal, then he looks back up at me and was about ready to confess. I knew he couldn’t have held it in for this long. “I was… going to steal a file on Aunt Sharon and my cousins murder case.”

How did he think of this idea? Honestly, it’s stupid to even think about stealing from the police. The idea backfires on itself.

“I know.” I respond, His eyes widen again and his eyebrows slant in-ward, as if he was confused. “How did you know?“ He asks. “Son, I have been thinking the same thing you were thinking of for the past 2 years.” I explain. “Every day, I thought: Where was my brother? Did he run away? Was he afraid? Or was he the one who killed Sharon and the kids?” My questions were disturbing to me at the time, and I’m pretty sure Ryan felt the same way I did. “So soon after they died, I started to investigate. And once I first saw those people that B.I.K murdered, I-” Ryan stopped me and finished my sentence. “Thought that B.I.K murdered Aunt Sharon and the kids, and scared Uncle Devin off.” His expression changed and was more interested at my accusation than confused.

“You see Ryan; I have been into my fair share of trouble. Hell If I had been trying to solve a case like this when I was 17, then I probably would have thought I could do this alone. But the fact is we aren’t supposed to do these things alone. We need help from time to time.” I explain. “What are you trying to say dad?” Ryan asks, “I’m saying…” I pause to think then start to speak again, “I’m saying, I need your help Ryan.” I ask for his help. There was no more danger so I might as well ask him to help me find Devin, he was in fact an honors student in forensics, and maybe he could help. I want us to be a family again, and maybe together we can find my brother and help him.

“W-what, you want my help?” He stammers in reply. “Yes, you see; I was too harsh on you, and I’m sorry. But I can trust you and I know that he’s out there somewhere.” I explain. “But dad, where do we start?” I’ll take that as a: ‘Yes dad, I’ll help’. I think about what he asked and I come to a conclusion. “At the downtown station; I transferred all B.I.K-related evidence there.” Ryan makes that confused face again.

“See: I knew you would do this someday so I transferred the evidence into the evidence room of the downtown station.”  I knew what I was doing, not to mention I know my son better than anyone. “Smart.” He compliments. “It takes a detective to outsmart a detective.” I wink and take a spoon full of my cereal. He smiles and chuckles as well, then continues to eat his cereal. “So, Partners?” I bring up the question as I hold out my hand for him to shake it. He looks down at my hand, drops his spoon and firmly shakes my hand. “Partners.”

*

Soon after breakfast we drive into downtown Tucson in my Mazda. We are riding down Broadway and me and Ryan are talking about random things. Ryan chuckles in the passenger seat as I Finished telling a joke. “How come you’re not this funny at home?” He asks. “Well before I wasn’t in a ‘joke-telling-mood'” I responded while laughing.” Yeah, well I’m glad to see you in a good mood, dad.” He says with a smile. The laughter soon dies in the car after he spoke, and all we could hear was the rumbling of the engine. I haven’t talked to him about school lately so I guess I’ll break the silence.

“So how’s school going?” I ask still focused on the road. “School is ok.” He answers. His voice seems calm yet I could sense he was holding something back. I make a left down the main road and continue to speak to him. “Is there anything happening in school lately; Bullies, girls, projects? “; “Uhh No.”

Liar, he was never very good at lying. “C’mon! I know you, Ryan. Mr. Lady Killer!” I say encouragingly, if asking him doesn’t work then flattery will. He chuckled feeling good about himself, “Ok, well…” He pauses “There is this one girl.” He smiles and strokes back some strand of his long hair hanging between his eyes; I smile and look at Ryan then back at the road and check my rear-view mirrors, then I look at the road again and start the conversation on this girl he knows. “Ok then tell me, what’s her name? Is she cute? Does she know you exist?”

The question was supposed to be relatable. At my age I was always shy and had my face in a book. Bullies were the worst back then, they would always tease me for being short, or they would pick me up by the shoulders and throw me against the wall and beat me to a pulp. However I didn’t regret any of that, it toughened me up and made me who I am today.

“Her name’s Delilah; She’s in all my classes, and yes she’s cute. She’s beautiful actually.” He corrects himself, while his speaking he’s staring into nothingness and smiling at the same time. I never really saw him so happy. “She’s been sitting in front of me in every class, including forensics. We never talked before though.” His smile went away at that realization. ”I don’t know, I guess I’m just scared to come up to her and just talk, you know?” I stopped the car in front of a tall five-story tan building. We arrived at the down town station.

I turn to Ryan and he looks back at me. “We’re here.” He says. “Wait Ryan-” I stopped him before he could reach for the car’s door handle.

“Yes Dad?” He replies and looks at me.” When I met your mother, I felt the exact same way you did.”, “Embarrassed and Nervous?” He interrupts. “First let me just say it takes a man to admit that.” I pointed out and gestured at the fact. “And second, you don’t need to be ashamed or embarrassed. You just need to believe in yourself.” He looked at me looking confused. “Look just walk up to her and say: Hey, do you want to go out sometime? “, “But dad you can’t just directly ask someone on a date, it is a little stalker-ish; you have to get to know them better.” He explains. “Alright then ‘love guru’, show me the way, I’m all ears.” I wittingly tell him.

He chuckles and thinks or a second then puts on a straight face. “You first have to friend her on Facebook or something. Then the next day you act all casual and say: ‘Hey I saw you on Facebook. Do you want to hang out or something?’ And then you just play it off from there.”  Isn’t that what I just said? I mean we didn’t have social media in the 80’s but isn’t that technically what I just said? “So don’t do the direct approach yet, but friend her on Facebook first?” I ask sarcastically and smile at him. He gestures his left hand at me to try and make a point, but as he is about to speak, he’s at a loss for words and nothing comes out of his mouth. I think I just stopped his brain for a moment.

I smile and get out of the car to walk toward the building. My Car kind of stood out from all the other cars in the street. Ryan soon after caught up with me as I make toward the door. “We are not done yet.”; “No but I think you are.” I say confidently He groans as I chuckle, and we walk through the stations doors toward a front desk. The building was well-lit, and had plenty of room. The only down side to it was the multiple cops running up and about the station doing whatever business they had. The place looked like New York in rush hour.

The Front desk was made of marble and was very well kept and organized by the man behind the counter. He was wearing a tie and a white dress shirt with slacks.

“Hello sir, what can I do for you?” He asks me, “We would like to look at some evidence that was transferred here and to bring it to a secure location.” I confirm my business; however the man doesn’t seem too convinced.” And you are?” He questions. I quickly pull out my badge and show him my I.D;”Detective Steven McCalister, and this is my son Ryan” I gesture to Ryan at my right.”Ok detective right this way, But Ryan can’t come back to the room with us.” I look to explain to Ryan why he can’t come. “It’s ok I’ll wait here.” Ryan says. “You sure?” I ask. “Yeah it’s cool.”; “okay, be right back don’t move.” I tell him as I continue to the evidence room with the desk clerk and leave Ryan in the waiting room.

He led me down the hall and to a silver elevator surrounded by the silver hallway. We stepped into the elevator and sit in the re till we reach the 5th floor.” This way sir.” he gestures outside the elevator doors as they open. He turns left and I follow him to a gated area of the floor then he takes off a set of keys he had latched to his pants and he opens the gate and lets me in.” There you go sir. Check with the clerk at the desk to the right so that you can pull out whatever evidence you need. I’ll wait here.” He explains. I then leave the lobby with the desk clerk to the evidence room.

 

 

What felt like hours to get that box of evidence only took 20 minutes; why does time seem to slow down at the most dull moments? Whatever, at least I got the files. They were in a small office box that I had placed them in with a bold- lettered, red stamp on the top with the word confidential; I carried the box with me and I took the elevator with that clerk from the front desk.

Apparently, not even a professional detective can be trusted with the very documents he had transferred. When I reach downstairs I see Ryan sitting in a chair in the waiting area while officers just walk across the room, going along with their own business. Ryan looked uneasy, he was slightly slouching and was moving his eyes left and right trying to examine the room. Once he looks at me he gets up and walks toward me as I come to him holding the box of evidence. His movements were rushed and he looked tired.

“Did you get the evidence?” He asks with his voice sounded uneasy. “Yes I did, are you ok?” I respond.” Yeah I’m just thinking.”, “About what?” I ask. “Well…” He pauses and looks down then looks back up again.” What if we didn’t kill him? Or What if he escaped the fire?” I knew he was talking about the killer and I could understand his concern, the unpleasant tone in his voice sounded almost disturbed.” Son, he’s gone ok? We saw him unconscious, and all because of you.” I reply to his question.”I know dad, I just have this feeling, that he’s not dead.”

I look down and prepare a response. But just as I am about to speak, the P.A over the room comes on. “ALL UNITS REPORT TO 9675 EAST RAKER STREET, ALL UNITS PLEASE RESPOND NOW!!” Just like that every cop in the station storms out of the station in a panicking manor.

All the officers drop what they are doing and rush out the entrance to the parking lot and one- by- one they all leave in their squad cars. “What’s going on?” Ryan asks as he looks around at the cops running frantically outside.” I don’t know must be big though.” I reply. “We should follow them.” I look to him and realize maybe he’s right we should see what all the panic is about.

Quickly we rush into the car and I place the box of evidence in the back seat as Ryan rushes into the passenger side of the car, I immediately hop into the driver’s seat and pull out of the parking lot. “Raker Street, do you know where that is?” Ryan suddenly looked intense and worried.” Yeah we used to go by that street back when you were in elementary school.” I reply as I curve left at a green light, I am soon met with a police car on front of me and I proceed to follow them. “How do you remember that far back?” He asks. “You don’t really forget these kinds of things.” I tell him.” Yeah, but even I would forget.”;” I guess I have good memory then.” I reply soon enough we are stopped at the street address.

Swarms of cop cars cover the scene and all that remains visible is a house fire. Police soon get out of their cars to block off the scene. A fire truck soon arrives and pulls up to the curb next to a fire hydrant.” Dad let’s go.” Ryan suggests; I trust him and all but what if what is there is too gruesome for him to see. I guess it’s ok if he can come with me to investigate. “Sure” I replied uneasily.

We soon rush out of the car; soon after I locked the doors we get through the crowd of cars and make it to the crime scene. Ryan somehow got there faster than me; I could see him just standing there crippled in fear and shaking slightly. I finally caught up to him and saw the horror he had seen. “No…” He whispers as if he had saw death himself.

The body count was at a usual four people. All of them decapitated and burned slightly. Their heads were stuck on four shining metal poles. The blaze behind them was roaring with intense heat, engulfing the house in pure hell fire. The first head was one of a small infant, a small innocent child, now mangled and burnt to a crisp. The second and third was of a husband and wife, the eyes were gouged out of their sockets, and blood still dripping from the snapped jaw of the wife. The last head was of a teenager, a boy just about Ryan’s age, his skull was showing as a result of his head being lit on fire. One half of his face was intact as the other half revealed part of his skull.

“Oh my…” I bent over and vomited on the ground. I quickly wiped my mouth while Ryan had just kept looking at the young man’s head still burning endlessly upon that pole. Why didn’t he just die? Why couldn’t he just go away forever? Ryan’s innocence is now destroyed and lost in the fire before us; he sure as hell didn’t need to see this, not today.

“I should have killed him.” he whispers. “I should have fucking killed him…” He turns at me and as I get back up and look into his eyes, they were full of hatred, fear, and pain.” They’re dead because of me!” he gestures at the scene before us, I just stood and look at him, and I can’t help but thinking: was I really the blame for this? Should I have let Ryan kill him while he had the chance? “Now son-” I start just as I’m interrupted by Ryan.

“No dad, it’s my fault and we are going to fix it!” He exclaims. Parts of the house collapse in as fire fighters are hosing down the building. “You and me dad, we are going to track him down, and then…” He pauses and looks and the still crackling flames. His face grows red with anger and sweat pours from his forehead. “… We will kill him.” He tells me slowly as he turns around and walks to the car; but I’m afraid I can’t let him do this. That boy’s impaled head had proven to me that I can’t risk Ryan’s life to find this bastard, it’s too dangerous. I could never live with myself if Ryan would suffer the same fate.” No Ryan, we can’t. I’m sorry “He halts in his tracks and looks to me furiously as I apologize.”I knew it!” He sarcastically chuckles and his expression turns dark once more.

“I knew this whole, ‘I trust you’ shit wasn’t going to last! Well thank you, dad, for the false hope!” He frowns at me and looks at the fire. “Son it’s too dangerous, that boy right there could be you!” I exclaim. “Maybe so, but I’m not going to sit back and watch this madman kill like this!” He shouts and storms off into the car behind the crowd of cop cars. I sigh heavily and slowly walk back to the car.

As I pulled into the driveway, I can’t help but think that Ryan may be right. I mean Ryan had the chance; the pole was in his hand. He literally had the upper hand. And I had to let my morality get in the way. I don’t know why but something in the back of my mind keeps telling me I was right to stop Ryan from killing this man. Either way, Ryan wants revenge or at least he wanted to avenge for these people that this freak had murdered, and I had denied him of that.  I pull in next to my son’s car at the driveway and proceed out of the car. I retrieve the evidence box in the back seat. Afterwards, I head for the front door of the house when Ryan gets out of the car and slams the door behind him. He walks frustratingly to the door at a much faster pace than me. I look up at him then look down as I sigh in frustration. Then I look at the evidence box, there was a note on top of the box taped onto it. Was this there before? I stare at it with caution, I wanted to ask Ryan if he saw this note here before, but he was in the front seat with me and the box was in the back; isolated behind Ryan’s seat.

The handwriting was sloppy and the note was stained with spots of red. I wasn’t sure what the red stains were but I had a pretty good idea as to who it’s from. Why is he doing this? What can he possibly want from me?

I then walk inside my house and place the box on the coffee table and toss my keys on the sofa across from the table. I sit down on the sofa and rest my head on the pleather couch. As I lay my head, I hear Ryan stomping his way down stairs, I then realize he can’t see this, not on top of the box, if he sees this note he will be even angrier with me for even having a connection with the killer. I quickly take the note, fold it in half and put it inside my jacket pocket.

 

“Ok let’s see the evidence.” Ryan demanded from behind me as he plops next to me and takes the lid off the evidence box and started slowly picking out items of evidence in plastic bags which are labeled and sealed. He had the decency to handle them with latex gloves on. After He pulled out the first couple items he pulled out a small plastic sheet in his pocket and lays it flat on the table and slowly pulls the small shreds out the box and lays them down upon the plastic covering.

“Excuse me?” I ask as I look at every move he makes. He stares down and looks to his right, at me. “We need to find this guy and if any of this stuff can help us then I’m not wasting another second. We will find him.” He explains. His tone was dark and sincere. “I thought I told you we are not doing this anymore, alright? Even if B.I.K’s alive and active doesn’t mean we can go hunting for him!” I demand. “Look dad… If we find him we find your Brother.” He tells me trying to reach some angle of persuasion.                                        “What are you implying?” I ask as anger fills up in my voice. “I’m saying maybe B.I.K knows about your brother. Maybe, just maybe, he killed him and no one knows what happened to him because he was dead before they even so much as heard a word from him.” He gestures as if to talk with his hands and then pauses to hear my reply, which I did not give. He scoffs and shakes his head and returns to examining the evidence. “Whatever Dad, I’ll just do this on my own.” I didn’t so much as spoke a word to him. He crossed the biggest line of all and I was so angry that speaking to him will just result to more yelling, I sigh and get up from the couch. Ryan moves over to occupy the space I used to sit in on the couch, and completely ignores my anger and focuses on the evidence. I swear sometimes this kid gets on my nerves.

I then walk to the fridge, grab a beer, and walk up stairs to my room. I plop onto my bed in my room and then I slowly sit up and pull out the blood stained note with my left hand as I held the beer in my right. I leaned at the edge of the right side of my bed and I take a sip of the beer and started to read the note from my ‘secret admirer’. I started to read: “DEAR DETECTIVE…” it read,

“I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU AND YOUR SON…” I suddenly had a chill down my spine.

”YOU WILL NOW CEASE ANY AND ALL ACTIVITY, RELATED TO CAPTURING AND OR KILLING ME; THAT OF WHICH I FIND TO BE IMPOSSIBLE. BUT IF YOU DO NOT COME TO TERMS WITH WHAT I DEMANDED, I WILL KILL YOU AND THAT STUPID HALF WITTED SON OF YOURS.”. A flash of anger filled my eyes as I read on,

“NOT ONLY WILL I KILL YOU TWO, BUT I SHALL MAKE EXAMPLES OF YOU. I WONT JUST IMPALE YOUR HEADS AND BURN THE BODIES, I WILL BATHE IN YOU AND YOUR SON’S BLOOD.’

With every word, my stomach grew weaker and every sip of beer made me more intoxicated and unmanageable. I was beginning to mumble to myself. I read on.

“YOU WILL REGRET THE DAY YOU SPARED ME AT THE STATION! YOU WILL REGRET EVER KNOWING WHO I AM, SO TO SPARE YOU THE PAIN OF ALL I HAVE JUST EXPLAINED, QUIT WHILE YOU’RE AHEAD! SIGNED BIK. P.S. IT’S BEST WE KEEP THIS NOTE AWAY FROM MY NEPHEW; SEE YOU SOON BROTHER…”

Oh My God…

The Journal of Sam Williams (original short story)

Hi guys once again I wrote this in a creepy sort of Reddit styled //NoSleep story though it is not on No Sleep. Enjoy and Next chapter of Burnt chronicles will be up shortly!

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January 6^th 2016

Today I saw her, the first glimpse of someone so beautiful and so amazing. I swear I was in the presence of an angel. I don’t know what to do; honestly I am scared to even talk to her. Obviously I feel something for this girl so why can’t I gather the courage to talk to her? I wonder if she has a Facebook, of course she does… everyone has a Facebook. I guess I need to ask for her name. I guess that’s a good conversation starter. Right?

January 7^th 2017

Yesterday was amazing, her name is Carrie. After talking to her I found out that we both share some of the same interests. She is really into DC heroes much like me and we both love to read Stephen King. Finally someone that I can quote King books with. Of course I am not rushing things. I may have fell in love with her but I am not going to be that creepy guy that asks her out after the first day of meeting her.

I will let us be friends first. Then when she is ready I will try and ask her out.

January 20^th 2016

Hi Journal, sorry I have not been keeping up as much as I wanted to. I have been sidetracked with Carrie. I still laugh when I think of her and that Stephen King book. The coincidence is remarkable. Not that they share any similarities, Carrie Michaels is far more beautiful than Sissy Spaceck, any day of the week. Speaking of Carrie, we are now officially going out. I am so happy that we can be together now after holding my love in for a whole month.

Journal, she has this most amazing smile. I just can’t stop thinking about it. My friends call me obsessed but I shrug it off knowing that I can love a girl and not be obsessed.  I continue to ignore what they say and focus a little more on Carrie. I am just happy that she wanted to be with me just as much as I wanted to be with her.

March 5^th 2016

Back again. More news I got a promotion at my Job at the call center. I am a team leader for my group, can you believe that? Finally my hard work has paid off; it’s not easy being a sales rep.  Anyways, Carrie and I  are still amazing as ever.  Lately we have had some time to ourselves since we have the same days off. Just recently we did something I was too shy to do.

We had sex for the first time in her apartment. Journal I have got to say, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever been with. I just cannot stop thinking of her smile, her eyes, and her body. God I have to stop there, anymore talk like that then I will have to change my clothes! Okay, I have to go, I have a date tonight. Hopefully it will go well 😉

*

Umm, this wasn’t a good night. We got into a fight last night. I’m here sitting at my computer with a bottle of Jack next to me. Carrie is amazing and everything she just doesn’t understand what I meant. We got into this tiff about religion. I am a firm believer in God and she isn’t ; she says she doesn’t believe in any of that stuff and I don’t know that came over me. I snapped, I told her that she should believe. I didn’t say anything rash just that she should believe. I guess she took it to heart and felt insulted. WE spent dinner in silence then after dinner I dropped her off at her apartment and snapped at me.

Here’s how it went:

“I don’t need you to tell me what to believe, Sam!”

“Carrie, please I didn’t mean-“she interrupts me. “Mean what, Sam? That I should believe because I need to be saved. God damn it! You sound like my mother; you act like you’re religious when you fucked me before marriage and swear like a sailor! You are such a hypocrite!” She storms to her front door and I get out of my car to try and chase after her. “Carrie wait!”, “Goodnight Sam!” she says abruptly and she enters her apartment and locks the door behind her.

As you can see there’s an issue. I will just talk to her tomorrow see if we can straighten things out.

March 20^th 2016

It was a long couple weeks, me and Carrie finally made up. Guy’s I can’t live without her. I know I should put God first in my life of course. But I don’t think Carrie is ready for any religious talk whatsoever. New subject I got her a present to make up for the argument. I went to the pet store and got her a puppy. It was a baby husky he was only a year old.  She took one look at the Husky and grinned from ear to ear as she took the puppy from my hands and held it in her arms. She decided to name it Cujo, of course it would be named Cujo. Once again we are the amazing power couple we once were a couple months ago! J

Once more I cannot help but admire Carrie and how pretty she is and how her personality is just so down to earth and awesome. A thought just came to me; what if I married her? I mean we have been together for almost four months soon. I guess I will have to wait and see if we are ready for that. Though I am completely on board for the idea. I can already picture the wedding. It sounds like an amazing idea now that I think of it.

June 1^st 2016

Today is the day, yesterday I went out to the jewelers store and picked out this really amazing ring for my amazing girl. Carrie and I have a bond, something so unbelievably profound that nor heaven or hell can separate us. I know this because last week I took her on this really amazing trip to Main. Being Stephen King fans we wanted to take a look at the placer that inspired all those books and we had the greatest time of our lives. Just when things couldn’t get any better I had contacted Stephen King himself through a friend of mine who worked for his publisher.  I picked a time and place and introduced Carrie, to Stephen mother-fucking King. She fangirled so hard. (I did as well, a little bit.) WE shook hands talked for a little bit and tooka  few pictures. It was incredible.

After we got back to the hotel I could feel the love wrapping around our bodies like there was no tomorrow. That night we made love like never before. It wasn’t just sex it was more. IT mad us feel like the center of the universe and at that moment we were. I want to have more moment like that. So today I am going to propose to her at this really fancy restaurant, it was this nice Italian place which had a live violinist orchestra play beside reserved tables. I reserved the band tonight to play a violin cover of her favorite song:  The Only Exception By Paramore . Hope this goes well guys. Wish me luck!

*

SHE SAID YES! HOLY SHIT, SHE SAID YES! OH THANK GOD!

Guys, she loved everything. Here’s how it went.

WE were talking about Cujo about how he is growing and everything and about how awesome our trip to Maine was and that’s when I start.

“Yeah, our trip was awesome.” I reply and she smiles while she takes a sip of her still full glass of wine (in case you thought she may have drunkenly agreed to marrying me). “Remember that night when we got back to the hotel?” I ask her and she giggles as she sets the wine down. “How could I not.” She grins and I swera I co9uld have been stuck there admiring that smile for eternity then I snap out of it before I stared on for too long. “Remember that moment when we were kissing and things felt like-“ ; “Like time started slowing down.” She says smiling and listening I swear I ma not making this up.

“Well, I want to have more moments like that and I know time is nearly impossible to control.” She stops me and comments. “Unless you are the Doctor.” Did I mention she liked Doctor Who? God I love her, anyway I continue. I laughed, she laughed and I started again. “I love you Carrie, you are practically my life now and now-“ I raise my hand and give the signal for the violinists to come over. The small group of men stand behind me and start playing the song. It wasn’t too loud so I was still audible. “ I want you to be apart of my life forever and ever. Carrie Michaels, will you marry me?” I say this as I get on one knee beside her seat and she is crying tears of happiness. This was one of those moments. When time started  up again she nods and holds out her hand for me to place the ring on her finger. “Yes of course, Sam.”  As she said this and I stood up and raised her from her seat and as the song ended we kissed.

This moment was absolutely magical; now we will be together forever.

July 4^th 2016

The wedding was perfect, just amazing. I met Carrie’s parents there and she mine. Meeting her mother I realize that she had a point about me the first couple months we were together.  And then I started drawing the similarities between Carrie Michaels and Carrie White and realize what her deal was before. But that is the past I already swept her off her feet and we will soon be living together with Cujo in our new apartment downtown.  Life just keeps getting better and better with us.  Today is her birthday so we are going to the park were I first met her. The day I changed forever, and for the better. I am so glad I am not a  murderer anymore.

July 20^th 2016

I swear I am not a monster, Oh God, I swear I am not! Not anymore! Fuck!

Guys, I did something I never thought I would ever do. Carrie and I got into a fight.  We argued over the upkeep of the house. I wasn’t doing the dishes whenever she asked. And she kept forgetting to do laundry, the argument got so heated that we kept finding shit to pin on each other:

“You are so fucking lazy you forget to clean the dishes, vacuum, hell our fucking dog can eat off the plates since they aren’t clean!” she yells tossing yet another dish in the sink that I didn’t do.  “At least Cujo is being fed, you never feed him and he is left to starve all day while you work until I get home!” I yell back. “Oh really, like your some kind of angel, Sam? Are you some fucking saint? Mister Christian! Well guess what I found digging through your little journal the other day?” I freeze and my face gets pale white, she knows not to go into my stuff but she does so anyway and this is what she pulls against me.

“What are you talking about?” I demand to know and she is hyperventilating. “You’re a fucking murderer, Sam! You’re fucking sick!” She screams and I can see the tears well up in her eyes. I am pale faced, and shaken to my core, no; not my girl, not my wife she can’t think this of me.  I was a killer before I met Carrie. I preyed on women like her, but she was not like the others. “NO you don’t understand; I’m not like that anymore, I don’t kill people anymore.” She starts sobbing and runs out of the kitchen and into the living room where it was more open and she wasn’t being pushed into a corner, but I would never do anything to her; doesn’t she know that?  “Never the less you did that Sam. You killed people before me! Am I just the next target ? huh?” I shake my head and at this point I am crying as well.

Through tears I plead with her begging for her to forget what she saw and to ignore my past. “NO!” She screams “MONSTER!” she hisses at me and I snap at her, I called her a bitch and I hit her. This isn’t how it was supposed to be I didn’t even mean to do that.

Oh God, what have I done? She stormed out of the apartment; I am worried that she will never come back. It’s already midnight and I don’t even know what to do.

^*

She came back all right but it’s okay… everything will be okay. She has completely forgiven me, hell, she loves me more than ever before.

I gently stroke her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. It’s ok my love. We will be okay. Cujo keeps barking in the other room. I locked him in there because he wouldn’t stop licking up Carrie’s blood.

We will be okay, now time will stay paused, we will continually live in his moment; forever and ever.

Even now her limp body is pressed against mine, we are happy, even made sure she would be able to smile forever. Never has that smile looked so beautiful. I even made sure I was able to see her eyes, they will never close and I can always see the twinkle in those luminous pools of light for as long as I live.

Nothing matters anymore; the sirens in the distance, the blood that covered me and the furniture, Cujo barking like a rabid dog… none of it mattered. Nothing else matters  except for me and my beloved Carrie.

 

 

BREAKING NEWS:

Newly wed Sam Williams has been identified as the infamous serial killer by the name of the Eastside Butcher. He was reported by his wife Carrie Williams earlier today having discovered he kept a Journal of all his previous killings.

Carrie Williams was asked of the police to try and keep Sam Williams calm in his home until the police had arrived. Unfortunately upon arrival the Police did not find either Sam or Carrie at the scene. They only arrived to the couple’s pet dog locked in the bedroom and human blood and skin tissue found in various parts of the home.

There is speculation on whether or not Carrie Williams is still alive and missing or kidnapped by her husband The Butcher. Any information on the couple’s whereabouts is greatly appreciated. Please contact the TPD tip line if you have nay information to offer.

---

Hows that for an ending ? Hope you liked it! Goodnight guys!

Burnt Chronicles: chapter 1/ foreword from the author.

Hello, and Welcome back, I understand that I have not been posting lately and i have no good reason for doing so under a regular schedule. Lately maintaining a blog has been increasingly difficult due to everything that has been happening lately. But all that aside i have good news to share: (Disclaimer: IF you don’t like horror get off this blog, and the Following news is for introductory purposes. If you do not wish to listen to me babel like an old man in the body of a 21 year old, skip to the part where it says chapter 1 about 4 paragraphs down and starts reading/ Warning: Errors and horror and cursing ensues) (Second Disclaimer: The story i am revealing is told from the first person view of each of the three characters mentioned in the rest of the foreword. Don’t know what i am talking about? Read the foreword… enjoy!)

Starting today I am releasing something that I have never thought  would show to the world (Let alone a blog that i created when i was 17). This blog does not have  a large following and  in hopes of fixing that i am releasing the very first book that I have ever written in the form of a  series. I know in the past I have tried writing series posts for this blog and trying to be very consistent with them and all but one attempts have failed. Ultimately I would just post the entire half-assed  copy of these stories in hopes of good reactions and thrills given to my viewers…. something about that last sentence didn’t sound right. 

Keep in mind this book i am about to release was from my roots, my time in high school was a time of finding myself and finding my true skill set. As a writer i made mistakes with this book: an impractical story line, too many cheap gore thrills, grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors. This copy I will present is the rough draft slash first edit of My horror/crime/supernatural tale of a serial killer, a teen aged boy with an unclear destiny, and a detective who is father to the boy. All three colliding heads in this jumbled up story of demonic origin  and hellish fury brought upon an unsuspecting family. 

Also keep in mind that i did little research in making this story; as my 17 year old self said once: “Fuck it, I’ll edit it all out once I am finished” Now here we are from my dreams of this hopefully becoming a movie, to knowing i can write much better than this.I am proud that i finished this and am about to release it, because if i hadn’t I wouldn’t have finished my new book (NO SPOILERS) or would have started my two other projects which i am working on. A lot has changed since I was 17. I Listen to Radiohead and Panic! at The Disco instead of Green Day and Linkin Park. I have my own place and a PC that can process all the shit i do instead of an Compact Laptop (which i wrote this story on as well as my newest book). I am about to be 21 and i have my own apartment a fiance that i love very much and two cats that both annoy the shit out of me and make me love them as well. Enough babble, now i present to you: The Burnt Chronicles: The story of B.I.K ( Chapter one of course. Tune in this blog every Saturday for the next chapter!!) 

The Burnt Chronicles: Intro/ Chapter 1: The Job

 Introduction

 Ever have one of those moments where you just snap? Where the very fragment of your mind just cracks and you just lose control? I’ve snapped; I have lost all hope that I will ever be the same.

I watch my bitter half take control as I stand by and watch; the blood-red windows I call eyes can’t see anything but red. The cold doesn’t bother me anymore, it comforts me, and it lets me know that this dark abyss I used to call Hell is a haven. I can now find peace, knowing that the other half of me is doing the evil deeds of my fractured mind.     I peer outside of my dark-haven to see what my troubled half may be up too. One time, I discovered myself covered in blood running down from my hands to my elbows.

I may need counseling, because in my own demented mind, blood arouses me. The dark warm liquid just tempts me to lick it off my fore arms. As I look on, I noticed that I am working on one of my victims.

I step in, knowing that I couldn’t miss this.

‘You’re not ready.’ Says my inner voice ‘Let me gut this bitch!’ She was lying upon a dining room table, unconscious and beaten to a pulp.  ‘Ok, have fun.’ The sinister voice within spoke to me and I was in control again. I grinned from ear to ear and studied my victim.

She was stripped naked and was covered in blood splatters. Her face was purple from the bruises I have given her. Unfortunately, she woke up before I could begin. She starts to groan in pain sounding as if she had wakened up from a hangover.

“W-where am I?” She mumbles as she tries to open her purple, swollen, eyes.

She looks up and sees me; I’m obviously going to hear some screaming unless I gut this bitch quick. She finally opens her eyes wide enough to see me; her eyes grew wide and fearful at the very sight of me. She sits up quickly as to try and run off and lets out a loud scream; I try to react but I’m too late.

As she rolls off the table and stands up, she make a run for it and dashes across the kitchen floor. As she runs from me she slips on a small puddle of blood that I had casually “left” there. She slips and falls forward slamming her own head into the marble floor; she’s unconscious again.

That was easier than I expected, it’s hard to work when my victims are screaming like banshees.

I squat down and reach to grab her shoulder then I roll her over on her side.     She had a big round bruise forming on her forehead and blood running down from her nose. I feel her neck to see if she had a pulse. I waited a couple moments to feel that last bit of lingering life within her. Her pulse vibrates onto my fingers for a few seconds and then it had stopped.  No pulse… Good, then this should be easy.

I stand up from over her body and look down at the drawer below the counter to my right. I open the drawer to look for a worthy weapon; there I find a butcher knife; not the most popular murder tool but it will do.

I grab the knife and crouch back down over her body to hold her head straight and yank her hair to keep her still.

“I’m going to enjoy licking your blood off the floor.” I whisper silently in her ear. I plunge the sharp end of my butcher knife into the neck of the woman. Blood sprayed violently out of her neck from her jugular, the very liquid sprayed onto my face then spread on the black-and-white tiled, marble floor.

Sure enough it formed a red, dark puddle. I laughed at the blood upon the floor. I wanted to pour the red liquid all over my face so badly! But I must control myself. I stand back up with an evil grin upon my face, and I notice my work is unfinished. I look down to see the butcher knife still stuck inside her neck. “Oh, yeah… I almost forgot.” I said playfully.

I lift my foot up and stomp on the knife on her neck. The bone snapped, tearing through flesh and tendons. The sound pleases me but my work is far from done. My process is complicated yet worth it in the end. I bend over the girl and grab her head. To my left I notice a cabinet of wine bottles that decoratively were hung on a rack through a glass window cabinet.

I go over and grab the bottle from the middle rack and proceeded to the front yard. There in the lawn were five heads impaled on my iron poles I got from an old steel mill.

The expressions of fear and death permanently marked on each ones face. To the far left was an empty pole stuck in the ground, ‘this spot is reserved.’ I thought to myself as I slowly laugh. ‘Make sure to burn them all!’ the sinister voice said from within.

I placed the woman’s head on the empty pole and the blood spurted out from the neck down the pole. The display satisfied me; I felt a boner arise within my pants as I grabbed my crotch staring at the heads on the poles. But then I wanted to complete the task before I did anything fun.            I open the wine bottle I had taken out and begin to pour the liquid on all the heads. I just spray the shit all over the blood soaked heads and soon the bottle was empty. I toss the bottle on the grass lawn and I take out my lighter, I slowly savor the moment and press the lighter to each head.

I watch the fire grow violently and intensely around me. ‘You are ready, go forth and raise hell.’ The voice inside encourages me as I walk away from the blazing fire. The smell of burning flesh spread across the midnight sky.

I turned to the fire from the doorway of the house and smile. I was far from finished, and this was only the beginning.

BURNT CHAPTER 1 (Detective Stan McCalister) the Job

The nights have grown longer, and the days have gotten shorter. Every day I think I can save everyone, but I can’t. Sadly, that’s just reality. Sometimes I don’t find myself worthy to be a detective. But if it supports me and my son, so I’ll just hang on for now.

Today was both terrifying and stressful. Not necessarily a good thing, but it is completely accurate for this time.

The Station called in on a homicide on Grove Drive and Winston Road, where a series of murders have been committed. I guess you can call them serial murders.

The M.O. has been the same as the last six-teen murders that have been called in the past two years. He preyed on families of four, and he’s always used the same method: He would cut of the heads of these families and would impale each head upon an iron pole.

Then he would display them sticking into the ground in a row. The worst was yet to come, because just when you think he has done enough damage, just when you think it’s over, he sets each head on fire, then leaves the pile of headless-bodies in the living room. The bastard never left one shred of evidence, he’s smart but sick.

The first time I have encountered this horrific display, I was mortified. I vomited on the side of the road. Never, in my 20 years working as a detective, have I thought anyone would be capable of such gruesome attack.

Who would do such a thing? The expression on the victims faces were hard to make out. After all each of them were burnt to a crisp. We took to calling this bastard, The Burnt Iron Killer, B.I.K for short.

Today, B.I.K made a hit on a local family down Grove Drive, same M.O.; impaled heads being lit-up, and displayed in the front lawn. It sounds like some sick Halloween prank. But this isn’t Halloween, and this is no prank.

As I arrive in my car at Grove Street, I see the press and random bystanders crowding the scene of a two-story tan house. Its front lawn surrounded by yellow police tape and cops telling the others to stand back as the blood work guys do their job.

I then park at the end of the street; I got out of the car and continued to walk toward the house which was only three houses away. As I walk up there I hear the officer to my left yelling at the bystanders to stay back. “Sir, you’re not allowed in here!” An officer commanded at me. I sigh then flash my badge at him. “Come right in detective.” he says pointing to the crime scene ahead. I then put away my badge into my left breast pocket, but just as I’m about to duck under the yellow tape and go in, I hear tires screeching from afar.

“Late, again.”  I say under my breath; I stand back up then turn around to look behind me to see my partner’s red Chevy Impala parked next to my Mazda. My partner, Johnny, was always late and had a knack for arriving shortly after me. He proceeds to jump out of his car and slams his door shut. Then he continues to run to me, swiftly and panicking. He was wearing a trench coat and a fedora, he was very old fashioned, but was a damned-good detective.

“Why are you always here early?” he shouted as he came closer to me then finally he approaches me. “On-time, not early.” I reply, looking at my watch. “Well then, why are you always on time?” he asks and adds emphasis on ‘On time’.

“Because, Rookie, I care about my job, and about how I dress on my way to work.”

I commented gesturing at his old fashioned get-up. “Whatever man, this looks good!” He defended himself,” Sure it looked good, in the 1920’s”;”Whatever man, so what do we have here?” He asked as he pointed at the scene of the crime. I turn to the crime scene and go into professional-mode.

“There are six people dead instead of four. The M.O has changed slightly but the murder weapon’s the same as all the others: 5-foot-long iron poles, and some source of flammable material.” I describe the crime scene as I look toward the six burnt heads in the front lawn. They were all expressionless due to they’re fiery demise.

“C’mon lets go inside.” I suggest as I pat his shoulder and turn to walk. He then walks with me behind the yellow tape. “God, I hate this part!” He exclaims. “Look, I don’t like it either, but it’s our job so come on.” I explain.

As we walk closer to the row of heads, I look to see only one head had the most gruesome, heart-wrenching, disturbing look:

It was a young boy, his head was burnt half-way and the hair on its head wasn’t there anymore. He had blue eyes staring at nothing, and his eyelids weren’t there anymore as well. As if the killer wanted him to see something before he met his end. His left side was burnt to hell, yet the right half was looking so innocent. His jaw was wide open and covered in what seemed like splatters of blood.

“Oh, God!” Johnny said as he bent over and kneeled down on the ground, he would have vomited if I hadn’t done anything.

”Off your ass Johnny! C’mon!” I exclaim as I picked him up by his shoulder. Good lord, doesn’t he know there are people here? He gathered himself and stood back up. “Son, I don’t know how you became detective, if your this squeamish on every damn case!” As I explained my confusion, he sighs and continues toward the house, and enters inside almost hesitantly.

I soon follow him in. What I saw next, was the most disturbing sight I have ever laid my eyes on.

Body, upon bloody body; all the decapitated corpses piled in the living room in the far corner behind a couch. Stains of blood covered the floor and the couch; you couldn’t step anywhere without seeing one spot of blood.

In this case this means plenty of evidence and one step closer to finding that son of a bitch.

But in my case, this means that bastard has taken it way too far. The body-count was six in all, and all were stripped naked. Their bodies laid motionless, still bleeding out small amounts of blood by the neck and through stab wounds, spilling blood on each of the bodies below the body they laid on top of.

A puddle of blood surrounded the bodies; the puddle was a big as half the living room. There were two bodies of children: one boy, and one girl. The rest were adults; three females, one male.

“Rookie what do you make of this?” I say in disgust, I was honestly more focused on avoiding the God-awful-smell inside the room. “I don’t know.” He said weakly. “Looks like the family were his target, but the other two women were caught in the cross-fire and he wasted them all.” He explains as he holds his nose looking as if he was going to be sick.

“What makes you say that?” I ask as I stare at the pile, whilst Johnny was leaning on the empty door-way of the living room. He refuses to speak; he turns his back and throws up in a barf-bag he pulls out of his right pocket of his trench coat. “What? Sorry Stan, I’m just not used to this!”

This just pissed me off, I expected someone like Johnny to deal with this better. I sigh heavily, anger flashes in my eyes and I walk closer to him, and then I grab his trench coat with both hands and hold him up against the wall.

For the first time, I lost my cool; I saw red and stared him down with deep sincerity upon my face. “Listen to me Johnny!” I whispered angrily to him. “This isn’t SHIT you simply ‘get used to ‘. This is REAL okay? It’s a serial killer; NO ONE is used to this.” with each word I wanted to punch Johnny so hard that maybe it will knock some sense into him. Maybe then he will grow a pair. “S-s-sorry” he stammered still with that pathetic sad look upon his face.

“So do your fucking job, got it!?” I exclaim as I let him go and storm into the kitchen to look for more evidence.

He walks with me once again and catches up to me in the kitchen. We look toward the oval shaped room and see the markers already set up around spots of blood all over the floor. There was one trail of blood leading out into the living room. A blood stain starting from the kitchen floor to the living room shows signs of a body that been dragged from one spot to another. At the beginning of this trail was a large puddle of blood upon the marble floor… and a foot print. It looks about the same size as the young woman in the pile of bodies.

Well it looks like we found something finally. I crouch down to see what appeared to be a vein or a tendon of sorts next to the dining room table which appears to also have a significant amount of blood and knife marks. “Oh my god, this must be where he cut off their heads” my partner says hoarsely as he stands behind me. The room was dark and all the life was drained from it. The blood alone tells a story.

A girl in the pile of bodies had blood on one of her feet, she was here; she slipped and fell as she was trying to escape and slams her head upon the marble floor. I guess that’s how one of the heads outside had a sort of deformed bump on its head.

But that didn’t cause the blood puddle. She was unconscious and the killer had decapitated her on the spot. “How does this not creep you out?” Johnny asks puzzled at my unusually calm behavior.

“It used to, not anymore though.” I say in a quiet more depressed tone. I stand back up and turn to Johnny and place my hand on his shoulder. I assess the situation and tell him this:

“Johnny I think it only gets worse from here. I need you to know that if you don’t think you can’t handle anymore, than work on something else ok?” I suggest

“No, I can take it” He says shrugging off my hand. “I know what happened to your brother Stan. I’m-” My eyebrows raised and my depression turned to pain. “No don’t please.” I plead him to stop talking about Devin: my brother who was actually on of B.I.K’s first victims.

“I’m just saying, I’m with you on this, one-hundred percent of the way; I’ve been partners with you since day one and that doesn’t stop there. I got your back pal.” He tells me as he holds out his hand to shake mine; I looked at his hand then back to his face. I smiled slightly and shook his hand.

“You’re a good friend Johnny and possibly one of the best detectives I’ve ever gotten the pleasure to work with.” We have only worked as a detective for eighteen years and he was in fact the best out of the other two partners I had.

We then prepare to leave the kitchen. As Johnny left through the entrance I look around the life-drained kitchen one more time for evidence. I look toward the cupboards over the oven and the counter tops to the far left of the room. One of them was open; it looks as if the family had an extensive wine collection in the open cupboard. The bottles were stacked in an orderly fashion, each bottle looked untouched.

Why would this specific cupboard be upon amongst all the un-opened ones? I walk around the table and walk over to the cupboard to get a closer look. As I look inside it I notice something peculiar. One of the bottles is missing. I could tell because the order is messed up and one of the bottles from one of the center-shelves was gone. It stuck out the most considering it was in the dead center of the cupboard.

Wait a second? My face made a questioning expression and I instantly connected the dots as to how the heads were burnt. There was no gasoline found at the scene, or any other scene for that matter. There were only trace elements of…

“Oh shit…”

I walk quickly to the blood analyst in the living room. “John.” I called him out. He was taking pictures before he looked up at me. “Yeah?” He looked up at me as I walked toward him. He was scrawny and dressed casually with a badge hanging around his neck. “Remember the blood reports of the last few victims?” I asked quickly. “Yeah” He responded.

“What was the element most commonly found in the blood of each victim?” I asked again. He aused a moment to think and he remembered

“Alcohol-”

Shit, I knew it. “Johnny!” I called him over just as he was about to exit the house out the doorway. He turns around and walks toward me. “Yes, Stan?”; “Alcohol: the Killer used alcohol and some light source to light the heads on fire. He most likely used a lighter or matches.” He looks at me questionably. “What do you me-?”

He then pauses, realizing my logic. “Where’s the alcohol then?” He asks, “Missing, we find that, we find a lead.”. Just as I said that Johnny studied the room carefully and he stops in his search staring down at the bodies; his face grows pale and his eyes wide with terror.

“Hey…” He tells me still staring at the bodies. “Remember how you told me that it only gets worse from here?” He asks with a disturbed voice. “Yeah; why?” I reply.

“We never found a bottle of wine anywhere, where else would he hide a bottle than under the mess he made?” I stare at him, confused and clueless. Then I realized what he was thinking. I look at the pile of bodies then look back at him while he stares at the bodies with fear. “Johnny…” I paused then spoke again. “You don’t seriously think he’s that stupid to hide possible evidence under a pile of his victims?” I suggest, chuckling lightly.

“No not under the pile; IN one of the victims.” He says, and shudders under his breath as he holds his hand over his mouth. He shows disgust in his expression whilst concern appears on mine. I turned around at the bodies then I look closer and crouched down for a closer look.

The decapitated man on the bottom of the pile had something lodged inside his throat. It had the shape of a cork, wait a minute? I put on a latex glove I got out of my pocket and grabbed along the edges of the cork. It was surrounded by veins, blood, and muscle tissue. I proceed to pull the object, but it was stuck. I was curious, my partner was not. He backed up acting as if I was trying to defuse a bomb. I pull harder on the cork till finally it popped open.

I got the cork, but the bottle remained lodged inside the neck; just then the bottle started to spill blood that was inside the bottle. Blood ran smoothly from the bottle to the floor, only drenching the carpet in even more blood. I closed my eyes and dropped the cork into an evidence bag that I had always carried with me. I hold it above me then toward Johnny as I stare on at the bottle.

“Johnny, can you hold onto this in your trench coat? I have no pockets big enough for it.” I was only wearing dress pants and a button up shirt after all. “Sure thing.” He says disgusted, as he grabs the bag from my hand.

I pull back my hand and continue to look at the bottle. There was something odd about this bottle. It then stopped pouring blood and a single, white-colored string emerges from blood at the edge of the bottle top.

“What the hell?” I pull the string out of the bottle and from the end of the string is a silver colored key. “Uhh, Stan?” Johnny calls me. “What?” I say still holding a string with a blood-soaked key on the end. I stand up and walk toward him he is holding the cork in the evidence bag above his eye-level looking closely at it.

“You might want to see this.” He suggests as he handed the bag to me. I took the bag from his hand and looked at the cork through the bag. That’s when I noticed a message was written in the surrounding edges of the cork. It was written in what appears to be Sharpie marker. It read: ‘Come find me ‘; Looks like this bastard was waiting for us. “Fine” I say as I look at Johnny.

“This guy wants to be found? Then we’re going to find him!” I say in sheer confidence and fear; Johnny then nods in agreement and calls the sergeant in here to check out what we had found.

But why, why did he want to be found? Something wasn’t right; I could feel it in my gut. This is, after all, a serial killer we are talking about. If their goal is to be found, then that could only mean trouble for whoever finds him. I hope it’s me; I will find that bastard. And when I do, he’s going to regret the day he fucked with me and my family.

*

It was a long day at work so I then proceed to go home after I filed the evidence in the evidence locker. This job can’t be any more stressful; tracking down a serial killer was easy, but trying to be a father is hard.

Once I pulled into the driveway next to my son’s Ford, I felt a sense of grief come over me. Being home brought me discomfort. I always thought of this house as a reminder of pain and misery, ever since my wife died in this very house two years ago. I would talk about it but I don’t feel comfortable.

I walk up to the front door of the two-story, brownish-colored, house. Then I open the door and walk in to find my son Ryan on his laptop, sitting on the pleather couch next to the coffee table in the living room.

The living room was the first thing you see once you walked in through the door. Next on your right you would see the arch way into the dining room/kitchen. Then straight ahead from the entrance, was a stairway.

The house was a two-bathroom, three-bedroom house. One bathroom was downstairs, one was upstairs, and all the bedrooms were upstairs connected by a narrow hallway that was horizontally facing the front of the house.

“Hey Ryan, what are you up to?” I greeted my son and placed my jacket on the coat rack next to the door. I shut the door behind me while Ryan remains focused on the laptop, still not answering. I look at him. “Ryan? Hello?” I wait for his response “Oh what?” He finally answered. “Sorry dad I was focused on my project.” He replied sounding tired and worn-out.

“OK, so what’s the project on?”  If I know my son Ryan, then I know it’s important when he spends long hours of studying for a project.

And the only projects important to him were the ones that his forensics class assigns. “Forensics.”; “I knew it!” I point my finger at him acting cool while putting on a slight grin. I then proceed to walk to the kitchen’s fridge and grab a beer. “So, what are you guys doing this time?” I shout from the kitchen, as I opened the fridge.

“We are studying Serial killers”. Of course it had to be serial killers. I grab a beer from the fridge door, shut the fridge and walk into the living room standing beside Ryan leaning against the wall next to the couch. I open my beer and take a sip. “So, what serial killer are you studying, exactly?” I ask, I was a bit curios but I didn’t really want to hear all too much about serial killers the rest of the day. But for Ryan’s amusement I’ll listen.

“Just any one of them.” He replies now looking at me. My son was 17; bout’ the same height as I am and he had jet-black hair that went down to his neck. His eyes were hazel and he was as sarcastic as I was when I was his age; just like his dad.

“So everyone started working on world famous serial killers right?  Like Jeffery Dahmmer or Ted Bundy. But I went with something that’s infamous but not ‘world-famous’.” He explained “Well go on then spit it out.”

I tell him while taking another sip of my beer. “I’m doing my project on the Burnt Iron Killer.” The response shocked me. My eyes grew wide and the look of worriment appeared upon my face as I set down my beer. “But son-” I start sounding very concerned. “There’s not enough evidence to collect. We barley just got some new found evidence, today and we still can’t make sense of it.” I explain trying to persuade him to not do his project on that nut-job.

“Yeah but If I collect enough evidence and eventually you guys find him then maybe-“;”Whoa…Umm, you collect evidence?” I ask in disapproval.

“Earth to Ryan, this isn’t your job! Plus it’s way too dangerous to hunt down a serial killer!”

My voice volume raised and I was frantic. I can’t imagine what shit he might find, all the horror, all the gore; this would scar him for life.

“But dad listen,” He got up and put his laptop on the coffee table. “I was going to ask you: Let me help you on the case.” He looked at me with an expressionless face then proceeded to explain.

“Ryan, take a look at this.” I place my beer on the coffee table and quickly walk upstairs and into my room. On my bed was my work suitcase full of take-home evidence. Then I quickly go back to the living room. “Move your laptop.” I commanded; he quickly moves his laptop over the edge of the table and I gently place the suit case on the table.

“Do you know what’s in this?” I ask him as I sit down on the couch on front of the suit case. He shakes his head looking at the case, “Sit down.” I say as I sigh, why am I doing this? Focus Stan, focus.

“What is this?”  Ryan asks. I look at him and look back at the case. I hesitate at first but fuck it, no backing out now. I quickly open the case and slowly open it all the way and push it slightly towards Ryan. He sits down and looks into the case. I could see the awe in his face; his eyes were wide but he wasn’t scared or anything; he looked more interested in the contents than he was fearful.

“You know what this is, Ryan?” He pulls out a bag containing a bloody cork. “It’s evidence from the Burnt Iron Killer case.” He was astounded. “We could easily track this fucker down with all this stuff.”; “We won’t be tracking any fuckers with this stuff.” He ignored me shit, this was pointless.

“Why do you have all this?” He asked “I asked the chief if I could do some personal studying with this, but that’s not the point. This is the story of a fucking mad man!” I exclaim while pointing at the case. “Dad, I understand.”; “No you don’t understand.”; “yes I do.” Damnnit Ryan! He then put down the bag with a cork in it and looked at me.

“Come on, think about how many lives we could save if we partner up and catch this ass-hole? Think about it! I am the top of my class in my advanced forensics class, I’m practically a detective.” He explains in ignorance. “Dad we can do this!” He exclaims with a grin; this is such bullshit. “What makes you all bad ass all of the sudden? What makes you think that this is easy?” I question is ignorance and just try not to lash out on him; he’s practically belittling my job! “This is a Fucking serial killer, Ryan; what would happen if he catches you!?” I start yelling and the expression of anger came on me. He is still and quiet, that grin he had is long gone now. Good, that means I’m getting to him.

“This guy will stop at nothing to rip you to shreds! I’m practically putting myself in danger here, I mean I want to catch this fucker just like anyone else, but this is no job for a kid. You got that?” I drink from my beer then set it down on the table again.

“Dad, I know it’s hard and ever since mom died you’ve been overprotective. But I’m older dad, I can handle this.” Oh no, he didn’t; anger consumes me and I begin to see red.

“YOUR MOTHER HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!!”

I was enraged I wanted to…- there would be no telling what I wanted to do just then. I stand up and my face turned red and intense with anger, my eyes cringed with ferocity. I was sweating in panic and my heart was beating faster and harder. My mind was not under my control anymore.

I would say anything now to keep my son from getting himself killed. “This psycho turned a whole home into a fucking slaughter-house! The last fucking thing I want is for you to get your stupid ass killed because you thought you were hot shit!!”

Ouch that struck a nerve; I could see the disappointment and the hurt in his eyes. I hope he learned something otherwise my anger would have been wasted on him. I never did like hurting my son like that, but if it meant protecting him then by all means I will do what I can to keep him safe.

“Fine then-” He sighed in disappointment. He then gets up, grabs his laptop and shuts it down and takes it with him upstairs. He didn’t try and grab the suit case, he just stormed upstairs.

“I’ll just study Jeremy-Fucking-Dahmmer.” He utters under his breath. What the hell, Stan? I know I was hard on him, but I needed to get him off the subject. I worry for him, and I don’t want him to get into trouble. I already lost my wife; I don’t want to lose my son. Even if it means putting him down, I had to keep him safe. I take a sip of my beer which I didn’t realize I was still holding. This is how you end a day in my house I guess.

Wish life wasn’t always like this… so full of grief and hate, we destroy ourselves with these emotions and somehow they affect the ones we hold close to our hearts. I wish there was another way. I really do.

 

Jacob Part 4

I woke up to the sound of screaming, my mom was downstairs and crying hysterically, sheer terror and fear emanated from her cries and practically shook the whole house. I jolted awake and immediately rushed downstairs in my purple onesie. Dad had imitated my habits and Carl was left in his crib crying at being awoken by mom’s fearful cry. We met briefly in the hall then started downstairs.
“What’s going on Daddy?” I asked him “I don’t know…” He mumbles as we both rush downstairs and find mom holding her hands to her face, in her bathrobe, staring down at one of the most traumatizing sites I have ever laid my eyes upon.

I stood there next to mom on the stairs, dad quickly came up and both he and I gasped at the site. One man laid there on the floor, head twisted backward facing the ceiling while the rest of his body lies face down, or whatever you would call it. To add insult to injury, his mouth was agape and his eyes wide with terror. He was wearing all black and I suppose he had a ski mask before it was lifted up to view what had killed him. His eyes, once a pale blue now was a very light shade of grey as did his skin look a sickly white. But that wasn’t the worst part…

The second man that we found dead had been ripped in half at the waist. His torso and above that was on our couch, blood still pouring out of his waist line along with his inards, slowly becoming his outards. He too looked the same as the man with the twisted head. His lower half lie there in a lake of blood before mom. I only found myself saying in my head one word, one terrifyingly shocking word that could have possibly destroyed whatever trust I had developed yet again: Jacob.

Did he do this? Was this a part of his plan to “protect” me? If so why couldn’t he have just beaten them up rather than kill them? We do live here after all, the last thing we need is a gore fest going down at our house.

Before I could process any more terrifying images my dad covers my eyes and smothers me in the comfort of his bath robe as to shield me from what he had been too late to keep me from seeing.

After we had called the cops they arrived shortly to interview each of us and carry out the bodies of the two men. Apparently these two were big on the most wanted list around town, they had been notorious for
robbing houses and not allowing a single shred of evidence to be left behind, well until now…

We each told the police what we saw, which was a little obvious, yet it was also very mysterious. Wouldn’t we have known if we were being robbed? Or wouldn’t dad have heard the tearing of flesh from upstairs? Or even the blood spattering unto the floor? Well- due to recent events- I guess the answer was no.

As the day progressed we were ordered to stay at a hotel for the next week or so while the police study the crime scene and clean up the mess. Mom and Dad began arguing about how they never installed a security system but the argument was soon sizzled by my little outburst in the car.

“Shouldn’t we be worried about what happened to those guys? Who could do such a thing?” I ask as we were on the freeway on our way to the Holiday inn. Mom gave me a glare from her passenger seat but then paused before she said something. “Your right…” Mom said. I guess this was the first time she admitted that but I did have a point. Even if I knew it was Jacob, how was I to ignore the fact that we should be worried? What if I gave Jacob the impression that my family was stupid or abusive? He pledged to protect me from everything and anything, even if it includes my own family. I hope he isn’t hearing this, that would sound like I didn’t trust him and he would then come after me in return of that failed trust.

“What?” dad asked as Carl started cooing at his rattle he held in his tiny hands while he sat in his car seat next to me. Mom then turned to him. “What happened back there was no accident… what if the thing or person who did this was still out there?” The car went dead silent, excluding Carl’s unintelligible coos. “What are we gonna do?” Dad says as we make an exit off the freeway and onto the road of hotel chains.

“I don’t know, but I think we should get a security system.” Mom mentions; and just like that they are on the security bandwagon. No more just locked doors and closed blinds; they were going to go full out on this one. But for the mean time we needed sleep and a couple of showers. We arrive at the hotel and we are told by the receptionist that we were expected to be here today and that the police department had pulled put the funding to let us stay the next couple days. This I thought was cool; the Holiday inn wasn’t too fancy but was cool looking and was so big and luxurious. To me, an almost-six-year-old-kid, this place was awesome, but that didn’t kill any thoughts of paranoia that I had about Jacob. Given his past with being cast into hell and being replaced as God’s archangel, I would say that Jacobs rage was almost infinite. How could something or someone so sinister be human? It was the only explanation I could come up with. Jacob had done this, and he was sloppy at hiding his kill. Not that I am an expert on killing but even I had known that leaving a dead body in the middle of the living room is a serial killers worst nightmare (evidence wise of course, depends on their motives) and yes- I have been watching CSI: NY late night while mom was asleep on the couch with the TV still on.

That night in our room, I slept on the second bed and Carl slept in his crib next to mom and dad’s bed. This bed was a queen sized mattress and my tiny body felt like I was on an island of comfort given I was smothered in the hotel’s puffy and stuffed blankets. But my comfort was the last thing on my mind. I had a bad feeling lying there in that bed. I was awake and I was looking up at the white hotel ceiling, I could almost sense him.

He was here, and my family was in the same room. Oh no. I could feel him nearby.

“Sarah…” I hear him speak but as I roll my eyes around my sockets to examine the room he was nowhere to be found. “Jac-“ he shushes me and I close my mouth almost shivering under my covers although I was very warm in this blanket. “Don’t speak, only you can hear me…” He starts, and I without a choice am forced to listen.

“I have protected you like I had promised. Don’t worry yourself with the destruction of these two filthy lowlifes, I have simply taken care of them the best way that I can. But I am aware that you and your family are scared. Don’t be-“ He explains, if this was the only way he knew how to help then he was no good. He assures me not to be afraid. Too late; I already am.

“You are under my care, and we must look out for each other. I am deeply sorry my methods scare you but it is only for the best.”

I was more than mortified that this had happened, I was holding my breath the entire time and with that I was holding back tears. I was so upset I didn’t want to talk but I needed answers. So with the softest voice I could conjure up In ask him: “Why did you kill them?”
He took a while to respond but he had.

“Because they wanted to kill you and I won’t allow that.”
That was the last thing he has said to me for the majority of that night until in my dreams I could hear his voice, I could only see darkness but within that darkness I hear these words:

You are safe with me.

But I could not imagine that I would be safe anymore; for some odd reason I thought that I wasn’t safe, but was rather the opposite:

I was in danger.

I immediately fell asleep from fatigue; however, late that night, I awoke to the sound of Carl giggling, everyone was still asleep and he was awake; not crying, but laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I silently as myself as I lifted the covers of me from the hotel bed, then that is when I saw it.

Carl was floating in mid air, as if he was being cradled by an unseen force, from that instant I knew who it was holding Carl. It was Jacob.

“Jacob-” I whispered now shaking from fear of what he might do. “-put him down, don’t hurt him.” I say shivering in fear, he remained unseen appearing as if Carl’s tiny person was floating in midair. Then that’s when it happened…

Carl burst into flames.

(To be continued)

Too Late (Inspired by the book: Left Behind)

A world dark in hatred and corrupted by the devil.
We as humans believe that ignorance is bliss, but it is merely blindness.
Children look upon us to see what they will become.
We as humans decline that of which we do not understand.
That of which is beyond you, doesn’t hate you.
Only few of us, are truly prepared.
The fire rises in hope of consuming its prey.
When we look to find those we miss, they aren’t there.
The clock is done ticking for all has stopped moving forward.
Are we beyond saving, no, are we putting it off then?
With the memories of those who have left you behind, you turn the gun against you.
Hell is coming, but not before Heaven
Tell me, is it too late?

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Hey guys this poem is a result of me reading Left Behind by Tim Hayes and Jerry B. Jenkins, if you guys are avid readers like me then you will know what this book is about. If not you guys should check it out but I guess it kinda gives it away, its about the end of the world and of the rapture, note you don’t have to be religious to like this book even though it has a lot to do with God, but it is a great book and if you are christian it will quite possibly be one of the most terrifying books you will ever read. 

Of course after I am done reading it I will review it on a Thoughtful Thursdays post, BUT for this Thursday I am reviewing a totally different book; tune in later to read my review on Gayle Foreman’s : If I Stay.

Stay awesome guys

Sincerely, HR

Falling

Falling through the mist of clouds like the broken wings of a bird.

The feelings of emptiness attempt to make you whole.

The air collapses onto your pale weak frame.

Nevermore will there be pain but the cooling sensation of the rain.

These skies show no mercy to the fallen but only to those who stood upright.

For those who thought of falling only fall at the climax of their plight.

Nevermore will there be sorrow at crack of the pavement.

-End

 

Vampire Academy: Series Review/ Thoughtful Thursdays

OMG, okay, for those of you that don’t know, I am a major Vampire Academy geek. Now if you don’t know what Vampire Academy is then let me break it down for you.

Vampire Academy is about two young Vampire students that come from two different races of Vampire, known as Moroi and Dhampir. Moroi are loyalty and are the essential key part to the vampire race, they are like the highest ranking form of people in the Vampire community. Moroi also possess special powers pertaining to the elements (Earth Water Fire Air). Dhampir are a mix of both human and vampires and basically doesn’t need blood to survive but they possess all the Moroi Strengths and none of their weaknesses. However, they have set jobs for the future the minute they are born and are destined to guard the Moroi and protect them from an ancient race called the Strigoi who are the bad vamps that were Moroi but they had killed while they fed or had been to turn Strigoi by being made to drink their own blood.

The Moroi Student is Lissa Dragomir who is best friends with Rose Hathaway who is a Dhampir. Together they have a bond that allows rose to telepathically know where Lissa is and how she is feeling and can see into her mind and through her eyes whenever she wants (I know kinda stalkerish but it comes in good use.) This comes in handy because Rose is training at Saint Vladimir’s Academy to become Lissa’s guardian once she graduates. They have developed this bond the night that both Lissa and Rose survived the car crash that killed her family.

Lissa is loyalty so this makes Rose’s job much harder when the Strigoi have their eyes set on killing Lissa. (Oh did I mention she has no family but rose and the rest of her family is dead? No? Well, now you know).

Anyways I don’t want to give away too much considering I have read the entire series and it was amazing and I want you guys to read it.

And NO, it is NOT like other vampire books, this is far better than anything I have read that was vamp related *Coughs**twilight**clears throat* what, who said that? Wasn’t me… 😉

But all BS aside Vampire Academy really hit me and had me begging for more till the very last book.
I wasn’t as passionate about VA as I was about TFIOS, but I wouldn’t put the two together since they aren’t even in the same category.

But VA had something different and something very refreshing to it; such as an amazing set of characters. (INCLUDING Dimitri Belikov, Jill Mastreano, and Christian Ozera) These guys are very important… if you have read the books you know what I mean. But anyways the author of this great book series is none other than Richelle Mead. She like most great authors are talented with first person narratives and contribute a little bit of themselves into the book. I don’t know Richelle Mead, but if I did I would email her like 24/7 about crazy fan boy shiz about Vampire Academy. Well no not really, but I would very much so ask her to be my mentor when writing romance; because not only is this series thrill-packed and suspenseful but is also an amazing romance and drama series.

Err, I am so on the brink of telling you guys EVERYTHING about the series but I think I have left you with a few cliffhangers enough to drive you bat-shit crazy. Plus I won’t spoil it for you; that’s just not right.
SO if you like friendship, love, blood, badass guardians, and an unusually awesome Russian Dhampir (if you know who I am talking about: *wink,wink*), and most importantly if you like Vampires than read Vampire Academy (Like the actual series not just the first book of six).

AND DON’T YOU DARE WATCH THE F*&%$#@ MOVIE FIRST! I swear the movie does not do the book any justice and besides we need the world to know that reading can still be fun. So read VA first please, at least read the first one then see the movie then compare the two.

You will choose the book over the movie every time. 😉

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Thank you guys for reading this book review and I hope you guys will want to read this series and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did. So Happy reading and STAY AWESOME guys 🙂
Sincerely,
Hells Reject.

A Family Born in The Wake of War

There once was a family born and raised in the wake of a war.
They spent time at the beach listening to the waves as they clash with the shore
They hid under tables and beds from the raids as they coated the streets with gore.
It wasn’t before long that the father was gone and kissed his wife and son at the door.

There were tears shed on the fearful night she heard a knocking on the door.
The father had died an honorable death when he went to fight in the war.
Once more the family head to the shore to hear the waves clash again.
When the son came up to mommy and said he had made a friend.

Mommy was sad and deep in her sorrow she didn’t listen to what he said.
He said: “Mommy please listen, my friend says he’s sorry daddy is dead.”
Mommy spun around tears in her eyes and hugged his son almost ignoring what he said.
“I’m sorry my son I’m here for you, let’s go inside it’s time for bed.”

Tucked in the covers lying in bed the son had more to say.
As mommy lay beside him he said this before she turned away.
“Daddy says he loves you and we will meet someday.”
Eyes widen in disbelief: “My child, how did you hear this today?”

The boy sat up from his bed suddenly his smile grew.
He was excited, a tear runs down his cheek this was something new.
“Son, are you okay? Is there something I can do?”
The boy looked at his mother: “Mommy don’t you see daddy? He’s standing right behind you!”

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Ironic Demise

Deep in the darkness and lingering shadows. I hear of the man that hung at the gallows. His ghastly shadow approaching me, fear creeps into my mind for the apparition cannot be.

His neck now broken and floating in thick air. Damaged skin, bone, and muscles beyond repair. His dead blood shot eyes fixated toward me. This was impossible, for it was I that hung him by the tree.

He moans and screams rather violently. His eyes turned black his spirit white, saying: “You did this to me!” I cower in terror in my office corner. I couldn’t bare this screaming and moaning, no not this horror.

He calms and tries to speak “your days are coming to an end.” I stare blankly at him, for i cannot comprehend. “What is coming to me in time, oh poor soul?”- “tell me now what my future is, that you so foretold!”

“There in the gallows you will see.” “For a crime such as murder- you shall suffer the same fate as me.”; “no!” I protest. “Be gone tonight and never return!”; “You cannot deny your future, this punishment is earned!”

I deny these accusations, i deny these facts. The ghost disappears without further attack. I wallow in brief, pain, and sorrow. I drink my spirits full till the marrow.

There comes a bang at my door, announcing my judgments arrival. “No!” I say, realizing my fate with no chance of revival. I turn to the window of my room and run to it mad. This is a better fate than the alternative, the other was surely bad.

I’ll become a ghost of broken bones than one of broken neck. The banging continues, oh how death crept. I look down out the window, oh what a great fall. But death won’t get me tonight, no i will beat them all!

But I’m a foolish murderer, a thief and a con. What better fate for me than the one I brought on? The devils and angels fought in my head. Do I jump out accept my fate instead?

To jump was the option but I couldn’t go on. The police burst through my door without a second more. At this my heart sank low and bounced from my chest. I broke through the glass, putting gravity to the test.

But, i met my fate after all. The rope next to my window hung against the wall. As I fell, i surely met hell, when the rope and my neck had caught on.

I hung by my window, in my accidental noose. Gagging and coughing I grabbed at my neck, but it wouldn’t get loose. I met my fate, my untimely demise, just as the ghost foretold. For as I drew my last faint breath, death finally takes its toll.