Red Hands

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
A criminal with a morbid sense of humor to get his next victims.

Submitted: March 17, 2020

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Submitted: March 17, 2020

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Red handsBy William Benjamin

 

Late in the afternoon, 5:30pm. I noticed there was a letter in my mail inbox. I was expecting good news from my family abroad. As soon as I got it, I realized the handwriting was not familiar to me. That was very intriguing. So, I started to read:

 

Hi there. I am Chucky Manson. Well, that is not my real name, actually. It is just a pseudonym I chose. For a long time I have been looking for a way to express my feelings and, someone who would listen. I do not consider myself being a bad person. This, just keeps happening to me, and I can neither help it nor control it. This morning, after I woke up, I went to the bathroom to wash my teeth and noticed my hands looked red again. There are no memories whatsoever in my mind about last night. I do not know what to do. I beg you, whoever you might be, to help me.

It all started about two years ago. I had a dog, Brutus. He was sort of my best friend ever. We would do everything together. I used to walk him every morning, and we had a nice time. One day, I woke up early to go for a walk with Brutus, as usual. I called his name out loud many times, but he would not respond. I looked for him around the house and did not see him. That was unusual since Brutus knew early morning was our time to spend together, and he was always eager for the moment.

I came to think that he had left me, and the idea made me feel blue. I went back to my room to get ready for the school, and then I noticed it. For any reason that I could not understand at that moment my hands had a strange red color. They also smelled funny. Anyways, I did not care too much about it and just washed them well to go to school. That day final exams started, and I needed to arrive on time for doing all the necessary arrangements before the students showed up. Being a teacher could be very stressful.

After a hard day at work, when I was going back home, I noticed a weird smell coming from our neighbor’s garden. I knocked his door and told him about it. So, we went to the garden, and then we saw it. The corpse of a dog was lying on the grass. Apparently it had been strangled. The body was very decomposed, and even though it took me a couple of minutes to do it, I recognized that was my dog, Brutus. When I saw the yellow collar I had given him months earlier, I had no doubt. Brutus had been killed.

His death affected me so much and, I was depressed for quite a long time. Since Brutus was my only friend, I started to feel more and more lonely as the days passed. Perhaps, that was the trigger, my loneliness.

Since those days, every now and then I wake up in the morning having red hands. At times, I just do not want to get up again. This is why I need your help, whoever you might be. I am desperate, and do not know what to do. When I read the news in the morning paper, I learn about all these people who have been killed under strange circumstances, and I cannot help but think that I murdered all of them. Is that what I am now? Am I a murder? Oh Lord, I feel so guilty!

I can trust no one. Even my best friends or relatives could go to the police and accuse me as soon as I tell them what happens. That is the reason why I preferred to write these few words instead of talking face to face with someone. If I had done so, they would have figured out what my real name was, and made it public. That would be the worst scenario for me. Just imagine, a teacher confessing having committed some crime. My reputation would go to hell. So, no matter what, nobody can know my real name.

When I tell you to help me, what I really want you to do is try to stop me from killing anymore. If it happens that I am this serial killer, I would eventually go to prison and, I do not even want to think about the consequences. In case you want to help me, I have to tell you some things I have realized. First of all, I apparently kill for pleasure, since I have noticed that there are no connections whatsoever between the victims and me. Second, I prefer to commit the crimes in one specific neighborhood, and all the victims live in there. Third, I only kill at early night. According to the autopsies, all the deaths have taken place between 5:00pm and 7:00pm. I hope these details help you figure out the moment and place I will strike again. Would you please stop me from killing once again?...

 

I suddenly stopped reading because it was 5:50pm. I realized I had been reading that letter for about 20 minutes. I needed to have my dinner and go to bed early. Suddenly, I thought about taking the letter to the police. That guy has serious problems, I thought. Later, I discarded the idea. I prepared a sandwich and an orange juice to eat and, having done that, I took the letter in my hands again and noticed I had not finished reading it. There was a final paragraph, a short one, so I decided to read it before sleeping:

 

...Oops, I almost forgot the most important thing, some say I have this habit of sending confessing letters to my victims before killing them. I am pleased to let them know in advance what is about to happen. Time to stop me!

 


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