The streetlight over my head flickered, not enough for it to block my vision for a few moments, yet just enough to be noticeable. I looked up at it for a moment from the park bench I was seated at before turning my gaze back to the road. I was awaiting a bus for to take me back home. I deeply regretted what I'd done and needed to make some sort of a getaway. I figured what could be more inconspicuous than a simple bus ride. I'd even left my car behind to seem less suspicious of any wrong doing.
You might be wondering what it is I could've done that was so monstrously horrible. Let me take you back to the beginning.
I had been researching serial killers for a while now. Finding out the way they grew up having an affect on how or why they killed was always one of the most interesting parts. I loved seeing the images that came from the aftermath of the deaths and their long lists of victims and how they were able to get away with it for so long. The interesting way they got rid of the bodies that tore apart any kind of connection anyone could have to them was one of my favorite parts.
My favorite killers of all time was actually one I'd been following around for a while. You see, there's been a bunch of seemingly unrelated murders happening around town. Ones that left the victims heads decaptiated. Nobody has been able to uncover the heads, yet the killer would leave behind a tooth from the head in the victims hand to help them identify the body.
How did I know those exclusive details? I have a friend on the inside. I met him at a bar, us both finding a common interest in killers. We've been talking and hanging out frequently, leaving us to share information regarding the murders he's bore witness to. I would in turn hold conversations talking about some interesting serial killers I'd recently uncovered while doing research online. One of my favorites was one who would somehow put something in the victims clothes that their dogs would smell before pouncing and eating them alive. They caught the guy snooping around one of his ex-girlfriends' house.
I didn't want to tell my friend, but I believe I've found the serial killer. With all my years of researching into the subject, I finally put it to use and tracked down a certain amount of people that it could possibly be based on behavioral patterns and crossed each person off after following them home each night for nearly a week. Most of them caught on to me after a few days, yet others seemed like they didn't care much.
There was one person who drew my suspicion the most after following them, because they would take many cautious looks around before creeping into their storage shed outside their house for several hours.
I figured tonight would be the perfect night to confront him. I made my way to his front door and knocked. They door was pulled open but nobody to greet me. Then a hand came from the darkness within the house, followed by a sharp pain to my throat. An a moment I was pressed against a wall with a knife to my throat, face to face with this beautiful man of a serial killer. "Why have you been following me?" he demanded.
My only reply to him was a smile before telling him I was a big fan. I told him I research serial killers all the time and he was one of my favorites. He pressed the knife further into my skin. "How do you know it's me?" I replied with "I know my stuff."
He let me go, I dropped to the floor clutching my throat. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now." He said with the knife pointed at me. I shrugged before telling him that I'm a serial killer as well.
He must've had some kind of idea because he cut my throat and carried me off to his shed. In some of my last moments of life, I saw what was inside, all the evidence he needed to pin it on whoever was inside. He stole my wallet and put his in my coat before running off. Not too long after, the police arrived to get rid of my dead body. I hadn't had time to tell him I was planning to become a serial killer. My first murder weapon, however, was yet to be in use.
You might be wondering what it is I could've done that was so monstrously horrible. Let me take you back to the beginning.
I had been researching serial killers for a while now. Finding out the way they grew up having an affect on how or why they killed was always one of the most interesting parts. I loved seeing the images that came from the aftermath of the deaths and their long lists of victims and how they were able to get away with it for so long. The interesting way they got rid of the bodies that tore apart any kind of connection anyone could have to them was one of my favorite parts.
My favorite killers of all time was actually one I'd been following around for a while. You see, there's been a bunch of seemingly unrelated murders happening around town. Ones that left the victims heads decaptiated. Nobody has been able to uncover the heads, yet the killer would leave behind a tooth from the head in the victims hand to help them identify the body.
How did I know those exclusive details? I have a friend on the inside. I met him at a bar, us both finding a common interest in killers. We've been talking and hanging out frequently, leaving us to share information regarding the murders he's bore witness to. I would in turn hold conversations talking about some interesting serial killers I'd recently uncovered while doing research online. One of my favorites was one who would somehow put something in the victims clothes that their dogs would smell before pouncing and eating them alive. They caught the guy snooping around one of his ex-girlfriends' house.
I didn't want to tell my friend, but I believe I've found the serial killer. With all my years of researching into the subject, I finally put it to use and tracked down a certain amount of people that it could possibly be based on behavioral patterns and crossed each person off after following them home each night for nearly a week. Most of them caught on to me after a few days, yet others seemed like they didn't care much.
There was one person who drew my suspicion the most after following them, because they would take many cautious looks around before creeping into their storage shed outside their house for several hours.
I figured tonight would be the perfect night to confront him. I made my way to his front door and knocked. They door was pulled open but nobody to greet me. Then a hand came from the darkness within the house, followed by a sharp pain to my throat. An a moment I was pressed against a wall with a knife to my throat, face to face with this beautiful man of a serial killer. "Why have you been following me?" he demanded.
My only reply to him was a smile before telling him I was a big fan. I told him I research serial killers all the time and he was one of my favorites. He pressed the knife further into my skin. "How do you know it's me?" I replied with "I know my stuff."
He let me go, I dropped to the floor clutching my throat. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now." He said with the knife pointed at me. I shrugged before telling him that I'm a serial killer as well.
He must've had some kind of idea because he cut my throat and carried me off to his shed. In some of my last moments of life, I saw what was inside, all the evidence he needed to pin it on whoever was inside. He stole my wallet and put his in my coat before running off. Not too long after, the police arrived to get rid of my dead body. I hadn't had time to tell him I was planning to become a serial killer. My first murder weapon, however, was yet to be in use.
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