Virginia Strickland

© Copyright 2018 by Virginia Strickland

Photo of a dark city park.

A shadow began dancing towards my bench. Every night I sit on this bench and wait for someone to show up. Well, two people to show up. They are different every night. There is no way that the same people could be reused. The shadow seemed to be swaying back and forth with its arms moving to and fro. Its owner came shortly after, walking away from the streetlight. There was my second person. He had a tall stance, brown hair, and was wearing a shirt from the nearby high school. I want to stop him, he seems too young to see what he is about to see.  The street tonight was dull. I glanced down at my watch. It’s 9:29. There is not enough time to wait for another person. Usually, there were people everywhere. Well, at least before the attacks. The attacks have been happening less and less as the city has gone more and more silent. It was harder to find people at night to wait for.

The buildings are dying as well. Their once lively spirits have left. Their lights stopped shining, the music stopped playing, and doors remained shut. The night sky has shown brighter. Another plus side of the attacks.  I stood up from the park bench. I took one more look and began walking home. I am thankful that I can finally sleep and that the city is quiet. It took ten minutes, but I finally reached my front door. I entered and turned on the television and flipped to my daily showing. I came home just in time for the news.

There has been another killing by the infamous Front Street Killer. There was reported a witness to this occurrence. The report came at 9:49 PM and the incident was estimated to have occurred at around 8:37 PM. The victim, unclaimed, was found in the backwoods area in front of  Front Street,” the television screeched out causing me to turn it up, “If you were anywhere in the area and can provide further details please call 1-800-349-8290. Thank you and stay safe.” I picked up the phone and dialed the phone number. They have been changing it more recently. I knew the police would be more active tonight, so I decided to just call from the safety of my home. Every night I leave the police clues. Well, clues as in a letter or a number. Tonight was the last night of the murderings. I have run out of letters and numbers to spell out everything.

Hello?” the lady on the other end asked.… I know who the shooter is.” I replied in a weak voice.

Wonderful! What are your name and address?” she said with a voice almost too cheerful for the subject at hand.

That surely is not necessary,” I said back.

It is only in case of prank calling from kids and teens seeking attention,” she replied still too cheerful. It was strange that she was asking for this information.
I hesitated for a moment before replying, “Um… my name is James Richardson. I live at 294 Hillcrest Drive.”

Thank you, we are sending an officer your way to gather-,” she replied.

- no that is not necessary! Do not send an officer!” I yelled into the phone.

Sir, it is protocol, we have stopped allowing submissions of details over the phone.” the lady said. I then heard her whispering something about me. It sounded like she said ‘We found him.’ How could this have happened? Have they been tracking me? They couldn’t have gotten on this line that quickly. I call from a different phone every night. Why am I so stupid? I shouldn’t have used my actual address.

Goodbye then,” I said slamming down the phone. I gathered my thoughts and realized what they have done. They have figured it out. I looked around the house and grabbed my backpack. The police station is only a twenty-minute drive away from my house, but they can get here in about five. I need to make this quick. I grab my handgun. Its barrel shows no mercy. The lives that it has ended has only begun. After me, it will be passed on from one hand to another. I dash outside and put it inside of my neighbor’s mailbox.

I then dash inside and get ready to make my great escape. Though I much prefer to walk places to enjoy my surroundings, I must take my car. I get in and back out of the driveway. I begin to creep my car around making left turns and right turns until I reach my perfect position.

I got out of the car and I snuck into the trunk. Inside the trunk, I put my most valued possessions including another handgun, a camera, a knife, and the only thing I’ve ever taken from others.   
I set up my camera and began to speak into it, “ You see, I hate loud noise and lights. I prefer darkness and quietness. The only reason I began this series of murders is to silent this loud town. Now that this town is silent, I can rest in peace. Now, whoever discovers this, please look inside this bag. Goodbye.” I shut off the camera. I only have one more mission. One more thing to do.


Hello, I am Casey Casey and I have a follow-up on the case of the Front Street Killer. The killer was found dead after a long search inside the trunk of his car. The gun was found in his neighbor’s mailbox which was reportedly supposed to be picked up by a customer who bought it off of Craigslist. Inside of the trunk containing the killer was a second gun which he used to kill himself with, a knife, and a bag of tongues taken from each of his victims as well as himself. This is Casey Casey out,” the news reporter finished.

I am a sophomore in high school and love reading and writing. I am heavily influenced by Edgar Allan Poe. I enjoy writing stories that take the reader on a new experience. I love crime and books about crime.

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