Time to clear the traffic

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Tom isn't really an outdoor man.

Submitted: December 05, 2011

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Submitted: December 05, 2011

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Sometimes the road in front of you gets smaller and smaller. Then the road isn't really a road anymore, but a path. Tom's road just became a very bumpy path. A lot of brush, a lot of dirt, and a lot of blood.

Tom wouldn't consider himself to be an outdoors kind of guy. The occasional fishing trip here and there but nothing like a full on camping expedition. Today Tom's bumpy path led him a bit upstate. Seems our "marinara murderer" felt a bit outdoorsy. Tom feels optimistic. Usually out here is where these assholes feel like they can slip up a bit. Tom lit his cigarette, filling his lungs with a deep cloud of the turkish blend. Exhale.

The trees are so dense out here Tom isn't sure the fumes will escape. Maybe that's what the "marinara murderer" thought about this victim. So alone out here. What are the chances they would find this one? This poor mans road was narrowed down to a gritty path he couldn't escape.

A lot of blood was scattered around the woods. Nothing really traceable except for the path the man took while running. It seems as though he was gutting him little by little. Letting him think he was getting away and every few steps or so nicking him again. You can tell this kill was more for recreation then necessity. Tom needs to cut a clear path here for the answers.

Tom followed the blood trail back to the victim's body. Same as usual, not much of a body left. Something feels different this time though. Tom takes a closer look around the body for anything out of the ordinary. Signature stabbing wounds left by the sicko, no trace of belongings left on the victim besides the clothes, and the prominent scar left on the forehead. Tom stood up and hit his cigarette again. Please don't let this path lead to another dead-end. Exhale.

Tom closed his eyes harshly as if he wanted to squeeze them out of the back of his head. He took a deep breath and another good long puff off of his Camel wides. Exhale. Tom opened his eyes and tried to peer through the thick haze of his smoke. Something catches his eye.

A little out beyond the body. Tom approached it like a hunter goes for his game. Tom always thought homicide was a little like hunting, although he wouldn't really know unless he actually went on a real camping trip. Fishing. Let's think of it as fishing then. That's something Tom knows. Tom reached the end of his line and found a small piece of cloth. Seems the "marinara murderer" must have gotten caught on a branch. Looks like this asshole slipped up.

Things are looking a little less bumpy on Tom's pathway. In fact, things have cleared up a bit and gotten Tom right back onto the road. Now it's time to clear the traffic.


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