KILLtober Short Story

This One Is All In The Patterns – KILLtober Short Story

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Jameson says as he looks over the newspaper clippings that cover the wall before them. “Whatever pattern he’s following, it’s going to be a lot more complex than us being able to see it straight away. This guy has clever but he also likes to play with his prey, and right now we’re his prey so this will all be about playing with our heads.”

“What makes you think it’s a he? This all could’ve easily been done by a woman,” a female officer says from the doorway. Jameson and Filtza turn slowly around to face her. “Hallow, Officer Sandra Hallow, right?” Jameson asks with a wry smile.

“T-T-That’s correct sir,” she says nervously.

“Sandra,” he stops and smiles broadens, “you don’t mind me calling you Sandra, do you?”

“N-N-No, of course not sir.”

His smile reaches from ear to ear now. “Thank you, Sandra. Please let me start by saying my mother, is a woman and through spending some seven and a half months, yup I was early,” he says waving his hand above his head rapidly, as Sandra’s face slowly glows bright red. “Through that time spent literally connected to a walking sack of estrogen fluid, I feel that I have a very tight connection with the female community. So please, understand that there is nothing sexist to my way of thinking, because I am almost a woman myself,” he says throwing his hands high into the air.

“I-I-I, I don’t kn…”

He places a hand on her shoulder and smiles softly. “It’s okay, sometimes I can’t find the words either. But then I remember,” he holds up his hand, forming a ‘c’ with his thumb and index finger. “I’m only this close to being a woman,” then grabs his crotch. “And THIS close to being a MAN!” The room erupts with laughter as he moves up beside her, as tears run down her cheeks. “Now go, and don’t let me see or hear from you again, or I’ll do more than embarrass you in front of everyone.”

She rushes out of the room, leaving Jameson to laugh at his own twisted version of self gratification.

“Right,” he says as he turns back to Filtza. “Make a note on the report the Officer Sandra Hallow abandoned her post at zero seven hundred and thirty-six hours, due to what she describe as girl issues,” he says with a smile.

“Sir, with all due respect, I think y…” Filtza begins to say before Jameson cuts him off.

“You DO NOT get paid to THINK Filtza, I DO! So when I say make a note on the report, I expect you to make a FUCKING note on the report!”

“Sir, I am not questioning yo…”

“Then write it fucking down, and let’s move on!” Jameson yells as he cuts Filtza off once more, as he takes a step forward.

“Sir, I do..” Filtza feels the impact we’ll before he saw Jameson swing the punch, the world revolves violently around him as he feels the floor one up to meet his face and then darkness.

“NOW! Who saw Filtza throw the first punch?” Jameson yells as a childlike laugh track begins to play loudly over hidden speakers in the room.

“Hello lover boy, do you still constantly think of my fucking your arse-cunt?” A voice asks.

Jameson spins around as metal spikes attached to chains fire out of the wall and pierce his wrists and legs. He screams in pain as everyone stands watching as he is pulled violently against the wall, impaling him upon more metal spikes that now cover the wall from beneath the newspaper clippings.


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