The Killings
There weren’t supposed to be monsters in the world. That was the deal. Everything was supposed to be about rationality and the tangible. Yet here he was, contemplating that the recent killings were the work of something beyond this world. He was questioning his logic. So were the others in the precinct, especially as he had had the naivety to state aloud that maybe the murders weren’t the work of a serial killer. The missing liver and other internal organs fit the serial killer narrative, a classic one. Still, there was something off about it, not only because of the repeating pattern from other killings all over the country, but also because similar murders had happened here thirty years ago, at exactly the same time. Okay, that usually meant a traveling serial killer, but again, something was off about all the facts.
He glanced behind him at the blue and red flight flashing against the trees and the men in uniforms combing through the area. Snow drifted slowly down, making the scene look still. He watched as his breath swirled out of his mouth.
A dog walker had found a new body, and this time it was on the other side of the usual hiking trails where the others had been. The city still refused to close the trails. It was their biggest source of income. There was nothing new there. He battled every day with the fact that money went over people.
The body was loaded at the back of the coroner’s van, sealed in a black plastic bag. The sound of the doors closing snapped him back out of his trance. He returned his gaze to the darkening paths leading into the woods. No other footprints marked the ground besides the dog walker’s. It was like the body had landed where he now stood from the sky, and like the others, his internal organs were missing. This time, whoever had killed him had taken his brain out too. Or parts of it, as the coroner had suspected, who had found gray matter inside the victim’s nose.
Others around him were ready to bag up the scene. No one wanted anything to do with the murders. Like tonight, nothing tied anyone or anything to the murders. Most likely, the street cams leading up to the trail’s parking would only show the dog walker driving there and nothing else. And he had already checked. The man wasn’t anywhere near the other murders. Meaning, he was starting to think again that this was the work of a different kind of monster, not the human one.
He shone his flashlight into the woods, combing through something, anything to clear his thoughts, but the woods didn’t respond. They were mute against the drifting snow. He had one murder left, and the killer would be gone, having gotten their eighth victim. At the back of his mind, he knew that if he just found the reason, how and why the victims were connected, and what purpose the liver and other organs served, he could figure it out. But he knew better minds than his had tried and come out empty.
He shut off the flashlight and turned back on his tracks, the snow crunching under the soles of his boots. His car was waiting behind the coroner’s van. The others would be happy that he was ready to leave the scene. He had been the only holdup to them getting back home to their kids and spouses. He had his waiting at home.
His partner was already inside the car, in the driver’s seat when he got there. They were the last ones to leave after he gave the command. One more time, he combed the woods as the car’s beams cut through the darkness. For a moment, he was sure there was a hole in the woods, sucking out all the light, but then it was gone as his partner reversed the car.
“Wait,” he said.
His partner gave him a side-eye.
He glanced back into the woods. There was nothing there. He shook his head and let his partner drive off.
—
What I got today was a lyrical mystery of overcoming a monster, written in the omniscient third person. I have an idea of what is going on there, but it would have taken me a day or two to finish this one, and it doesn’t serve the purpose of these prompts. But there’s a door that leads to other places, and there is a killer, but not a serial one – not in the way I take pleasure out of killing, but more in the vein of this is an experiment, and I need ingredients.
Thank you for reading! Have a fantastic day, and see you tomorrow ❤
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