The Midnight Shock

Manny started awake in the middle of the night. A commotion outside his bedroom window sounded like someone had been electrocuted while being drowned in a metallic barrel.

He carefully peered through the blinds, the lights off so as not to draw attention. This might be some kind of zombie invasion or purge situation. But whatever created all that noise was nowhere to be seen.

Manny waited a few moments, then laid back down and fell asleep.

The next morning, the headline read, "The Midnight Shock Serial Killer Strikes Again." His preferred method of killing: electrocution in a metal barrel.

The Taxidermist

He stuffed his victims, then mounted them on his wall. That's why they referred to him as the Taxidermist. His arrest, and subsequent conviction, was thought to be the end. No juror would've signed off on an insanity plea. He was locked away and, by the time his appeals were exhausted and he finally met his fate, the story had become more legend than reality.

But he was more than just a serial killer. He wasn't just preserving their skins, but also their souls. Now, with his death, those souls have been released. May God have mercy on us all.

The Black Dots, Part Five

In my visit to the pharmaceuticals factory, I discovered that there was no black dot serial killer. The black dots themselves were the murderer. It was a virus that was being manufactured as a biological weapon and it had somehow leaked out of one of the containment units.

My attempt to see Mr. Dowling served two functions. I was hoping that he had access to an antidote, though I knew that to be unlikely. Failing a cure, I intended to infect him the same way he had infected me. Then we could die together.

In the end, I died alone.

The Black Dots, Part Two

The pharmaceuticals factory was something of a dinosaur, antiquated and larger-than-life at the same time. It loomed so ominously over the lake district that only the most desperate dared to visit. If there was a serial killer operating in its shadow, some of the more authoritarian city elders might have deemed it good for social welfare.

My sinking ship of a career cried out for me to catch the black dot killer, so I conducted the investigation alone.

Turns out I was right about the pharmaceuticals factory but wrong about the killer. The reality was even worse than I'd imagined.

The Black Dots, Part One

Every victim of the past month had been found with the same black dot tattooed to his or her forehead. We reported it to all the usual departments, thinking we must have a serial killer or cult on our hands. But each of the deaths appeared random, with a variety of causes and nothing linking them together.

The captain was mad at me so I was assigned the desk, going through all the case files. I was the one who discovered the connection, that all the victims had visited a certain pharmaceuticals factory on the east side before their deaths.

Scarecrow People

Joey always hated the scarecrow people, especially when everyone else welcomed them. They'll keep the birds away, people said, and tend to the crops. Scarecrows are made to work in the fields. It's their nature.

But Joey asked the tough questions. Where did they come from? How do they talk without a mouth? When people started dying, it was Joey who led the mob that burnt all the scarecrow people like so much dry straw.

When the truth came out, and Bill Bates turned out to be a serial killer, Joey refused to feel remorse. They were still better off.

Nine Days

Later, he explained the solitude was good for him.

He was content and productive, his mind open, ideas flowing. “I am focused and connected to my surroundings”, he thought. He last left his home 9 days ago.

A bead of sweat falls to the table from his ice water. On the wall, the clock approaches 9:00pm, eighteen seconds away. He knows this without looking, he senses it.

He grappled with what to do next, but everything made sense. The police scanners were quiet, news was normal. He was safe. Tonight, nine days later, he could kill again. The cycle continues.

From guest contributor, Kevin Reitz