Friday, October 4, 2013

Serial Killer's Diary- Part 2

**Warning: these entries may be graphic and, hopefully, frightening.  Keep in mind this is merely fiction.  No humans have or will be harmed in the production of this blog.  All names have been chosen at random and are not meant to represent anyone, living or dead.  Any similarities are purely coincidental.**

10/4/13  10:45 PM

      Everything went terribly wrong and perfectly right all at the same time.  I arrived at the good doctor’s neighborhood an hour before her office closed and I parked in the cul-de-sac down the street.  Dr. Jenkins arrived at her home shortly after 6pm. In the flurry of cars arriving and departing, no one noticed or cared that I was parked there so I watched and waited.  Just before 8pm she emerged wearing an elegant dress and high heels.  As I had hoped, she was heading out for some fun…after all, it is Friday night.  My plan was to enter her home when she had left.  I figured I could learn more about her and, if I was lucky, find a calendar or a day planner to obtain her schedule.  I couldn’t continue to lurk in the cul-de-sac or the neighbors might get suspicious.   After she was gone, I strolled casually up the street.  The sun had gone down and I was wearing black from head to toe.  Not that it mattered, the affluent don’t stay home on a Friday night.  The neighborhood was empty. 
      Still in stealth-mode, I ducked behind a cluster of trees and crept through backyards until I reached the Jenkins residence.  I expected to have to pry open a window but she actually leaves a spare key under the doormat.  Seriously, who does that?  Anyway, her folly is my fortune so I went inside.  My leather driving gloves gave me the protection I needed but my fingers still retained their dexterity.  No prints.  That was the only part of my plan that went exactly as I had expected.  Once inside, I rifled through her mail, dug through drawers, and found her iPad.   Her password is password-unbelievable!   
      This is where the plan fell apart.  I was reading her office notes from my last visit when she came home.  Damn, that hybrid car of her is so quiet I didn’t hear a thing until she opened the front door, tossed her keys down on the table and kicked off those ridiculously high heels.  Before I could hide, she walked into her office.  Startled, she gasped and dropped her purse on the floor. 
      Then, it was as if a switch went off in brain and I pounced.  I grabbed the Tiffany lamp from her desk and swung the heavy base at her self-important head.  She fell with a thud and blood pooled on her polished, hardwood floors.  “Please”, she whimpered and I heard a high, blood-curdling laugh.  It took me a minute to realize I was the one laughing.  Her cold, compassionless eyes were now filled with fear and welling with tears. “There’s nothing more I can do to help you,” I hissed, spitting her own heartless words right back at her.  As if seeing it all through someone else’s eyes, I watched a maniac, dressed in black, choke the life from the blood-soaked woman on the floor.  Once I was certain she was dead, I left the same way I had entered.  I could feel her blood seeping through the knees of my pants, cold and sticky on my skin.  No one saw me as I slipped through the darkness to my old, beat up sedan.  
      Driving home, I laughed at my luck.  I had only planned to do some recon work but managed to successfully complete my entire objective.  I even remembered to back out from her iPod so that my name wouldn’t be the first thing to pop up.  I’d begun sporting the “Walter White” look, about a year ago, so there was no chance of stray hair connecting me to the crime scene and no finger prints through my gloves.  No one saw me entering or exiting her home and my car was parked too far away to be suspected anyway.  I feel both euphoric and exhausted.  I must sleep now but I will continue the details in my next entry. 

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