Number Thirteen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

A sleepy English town has been rocked by a series of murders. Everyone is both scared and thrilled by the turn of events. Well, everyone except Jane who has grown bored of the whole thing. But how
caught up in it is she really?

Submitted: November 15, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 15, 2017



A cool spring breeze washed over my sore legs and sent my skirt fluttering. Darkness swept over the land, fought in patches by the artificial illumination of street lighting. The fragrance of mown grass helped me forget about my days work as I walked home to my waiting husband, Pete, and two beautiful children. Pete would still be lying in front of the TV when I got back, my supper cold on the kitchen counter, and the kids should all ready be fast asleep by now.

Another murdered body had been found the night before and left everyone slightly more agitated than they had been all ready. And they were very agitated to begin with as this was the twelfth body found within the last three months. Sarah, my manager, had broken the news as soon as I arrived at the supermarket for another mind numbing shift. Working her way through scattered boxes she was upon me before I had even had a chance to take my cardigan off.

‘Have you heard Jane, the police found another body last night. Berty told me there was horrendous injuries all over it’. Sarah said breathlessly, she seemed to be enjoying the drama. I admit, at this point I was slightly relieved, I was half expecting to find out that I couldn’t take my requested week off having all ready paid for the hotel. It had been one of my spontaneous purchases, I had such a hard time controlling them.

‘Not another’, I replied having put on my best concerned face, it was all getting a bit repetitive now. ‘Where did this one turn up’?

‘Bank of the Severn, just past the Pengwern boat house’. I lovely place for a walk, unfortunately it would be a mess of police tape and gawking onlookers right now. ‘May be a woman who was stabbed, but you know what Berty’s like, hardly a reliable source of information’. Sarah loved a good gossip, since she had taken over as store manager the place had been full of hushed voices spreading the most far fetched of rumours. I preferred it before, when people just worked and never felt the need to tell me that so and so kissed what’s his name. I had quickly realised that gossiping is the practice of those with nothing to say but they are determined to say it anyway.

‘Yeah, I know what Bert’s like’, I didn’t, ‘hopefully they’ll find this sick freak soon’.

And that was how the day went from there onwards. Everyone looking for a chance to stop and chat about it, staff and customers alike, with numerous suggestions of who could be behind it and why. Throughout the day more details came out, it was a woman in her twenties who had been stabbed multiple times. Point to Berty.

In the last couple of months, as the murder frequency gained pace, even the BBC had been reporting on it. Their broadcasting vans scurrying around the place, eager to bring every little bit of news to the waiting masses. After the police arrested someone over the murders, around the time that the eighth body was discovered, the news agencies had gone on a crazed spree of reporting. Constant updates on the radio and TV, articles in every major and local paper, and everyone in town voicing there disbelief that a nineteen year old could do such an evil thing. They had all sounded disappointed when it turned out it couldn’t have been him, he’d been on holiday at the beginning of it all.

I had been relieved to leave work and not have to listen to another person talk about how terrible it all was. To just clear my head and enjoy the fresh air on my twenty-five minute walk back to my little sanctuary. The streets were quiet, most people had taken to heading for their homes as soon as night arrived. This was partly due to the murders but was also just how it was here, sleepy old English towns have never been known for their night life.

A scuff of a shoe caught my attention. Looking over my shoulder I saw a dark figure walking behind me. It was probably just someone going about their life, not a malicious thought in their head. I maintained my speed and continued on my way, no need to draw attention to myself just yet. Moving from the street I started across my local park. My back garden backed onto it, a perfect place for my kids to play whilst I kept an eye on them. The path cutting across it was well lit although a light up ahead was out and let the darkness encroach upon the path. I glanced over my shoulder again, he was still there but he had halved the distance between us and was getting closer! Was he following me or was the wider path just allowing him the chance to pass? My pulse quickened and I enjoyed a rush of adrenaline, it was quite a pleasant sensation.

The dark patch drew nearer as did the footsteps and my possible pursuer. Again I glanced back. Closer now I could tell it was a man, stocky in build and short in stature. With his hood pulled up his face was veiled in darkness, just like the land outside of the street lighting’s reach. I gripped my handbag and held it in front of me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing upright as my anticipation rose. As I entered the darkness he was just a couple of strides away. In my heightened state of alertness every sound was razor sharp, his heavy breathing sounded sickly and the scrape of his shoes lazy. In reach now, both of us in darkness, it was time to act. I stopped, turned, and thrust the hunting knife into his chest. A startled yelp climbs weakly from his lips as I pull the knife out and thrust it once more into him, this time angling it to get to his heart from under his ribs. Finally he realised what was going on and lurked forwards whilst throwing a wild hook, hitting me on the side of the head. Stunned I was knocked off the path and landed on my back. A scream refocused my mind in time to see his silhouette stumble my way and then collapse face first, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Knife still in hand I stood and looked down upon a dark patch that was currently making a sickening gurgling sound. Kneeling I blindly felt around for my victim, finding his back I raised the knife and then brought it down upon him. Again and again I repeated the action, enjoying the euphoric feeling coursing through me. Long after he was dead I had finally had enough. I wiped the knife and my hands on his trousers and stood. Exhausted and with the adrenaline rush having taken it’s toll I knew I wouldn’t be able to move the body. With a shrug, I continued on my way home.

I don’t know why I killed him, or the other twelve for that matter, all I know is that I had never felt as alive as I did after killing that first man. I have been chasing that feeling ever since, but each murder is a little less exciting than the last. Still better than anything else I have experienced in life. The smell of blood lingered in my nose, blood gone tacky dried to my hands, the thrill of knowing the body would be found and the police sought me with single minded determination. It was intoxicating. A drug I couldn’t get enough of.

Close to home now, I aim for the rear garden gate and get into the house via the back door. I get cleaned up in the utility before seeing Pete, he had been wondering what was taking me so long, I told him I got talking to Sarah after work. Fortunately he rarely worried about anything, it was one of the things I loved about him, and so he wasn’t particularly concerned about me arriving home late. After seeing Pete I go and check on the kids, with a thudding headache, I really should have been more careful, I sit on the edge of little Alice’s bed. She slept peacefully without a care in the world. An angel in a land of monsters. And for this monster it was time for sleep, I had work tomorrow, it was going to be a long day.


© Copyright 2018 A J D. All rights reserved.

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