A Victim's Story

“The name’s Jack, been a brick layer, you know a mason most of my life. Its hard work, but satisfying, if you know what I mean,” he gave a wink as he shifted position on the chair. I almost thought he was going to dip his scraggly beard into his pint.

I smiled, What do I ask a brick mason? “So, how did you end up here at this speed dating event? I know my girlfriend,” I nodded toward Angie, “shanghaied me after work tonight. She’s been dying to go to one.”

“I’m pretty much in the same boat. Steve, over there,” he said pointing to my next appointment, “he’s always trolling for some skirt.”

“So, why did you come?”

A news bulletin caught my attention on the TV hanging on the wall behind Jack. I shifted over so I could see the latest story.

The horrific murders seemed to be coming more often; the last was only two days ago. Once again the stoic reporter stood in front of multiple police vehicles, lights flashing, relating the details. I started reading the closed captions. Tenth Street, that’s only three blocks from my apartment.

Jack noticed I wasn't paying him any mind. “They’ll never find him, you know,” he sneered. His cocky, light-hearted demeanor suddenly vanished. His eyes piercing and dark seemed to bore right through me. Cold fingers traced their way up my spine.

“What?” I shrieked, pushing away from the table.

“I said that I wouldn't mind finding a little skirt either.” Jack looked at me like I’d swallowed a gold fish. “What did you think I said?”

I shook my head, “I’m sorry, there’s been another murder. I noticed it wasn't far from my apartment. I guess it’s kind of gotten me on edge.” I took another sip of my drink, took a deep breath. Thankfully the bell rang as relaxed back into my seat. I stood and extended my hand. “It was nice to meet you, Jack. I’m sorry I got so distracted.”

He pulled my hand to his lips and gently kissed the back. Oh my word!

He looked up and glared into my eyes. “He’s hunting for you, but you already know that, don’t you?” Suddenly the room was freezing cold. I felt like everything was spinning, spiraling out of control. All of my life force was draining out my body. I felt my knees buckling under me. I helplessly stared into those demonic eyes, and listened to his threatening message.

In the back of my mind, I knew I had to get away. I jerked my hand away and practically ran to bar. Terrified, I watched in the mirror Jack and his buddy, standing in the middle of the dating tables, slapping each other on the back, laughing their heads off, pointing at me.

“Hey,” Angie touched my shoulder.

I jumped and stiffened. Realizing it was her, I rolled my eyes, nothing like a little fright and flight. “I’m sorry.”

“Not a smart move leaving your purse over there with that bunch of morons.” She slid it across the bar still staring at me, “Hey, Tina, are you alright? You’re as white as a ghost.”

My head dropped, I stared at the bar, and tried to steady my breath. “Angie, there’s been another murder.” I looked at her imploringly, “It was three blocks from home.”

She wrapped her arms around me, boy, did I need that hug. “Oh honey, you’re letting the news get to you.”

“Angie, haven’t you noticed all the photographs of the victims look like me? Haven’t you noticed that the murders started within yards of where I work, and they keep moving closer and closer to my apartment?”

She held me back by the shoulders and looked me square in the eyes, talk about feeling like a kid. “Woman, you need to stop writing murder mysteries. Every time you see a murder on the news you wonder how you can use that in your next great book. Tina, would you snap back to reality. Everything that happens in this wild and glorious world isn't about you!”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I know.” I laughed at how easily Angie could get be back to reality. “Can we please blow this joint. I just don’t feel like meeting good ol’ Steve over there.”

“Sure, come on. I guess this was a pretty lame idea anyway.”




We walked out of the club together. “We must be doing something right!” Angie laughed with delight realizing there was couple getting out of the cab, right in front of the club. “Hey, we’re heading to 405 Seventh Avenue.”

The driver turned and motioned us to get in. “How are you ladies doing this fine night?”

“Just great,” Angie replied.

“I’ll get out at the end of the street, Angie. He doesn't have to deliver me to my door. After all, it’s only a half a block. And most of that is St. Matthews.”

The driver looked back at us in the mirror. “Hey, you go to St. Matthews? My sister’s kids were baptized there. That’s a beautiful chapel. My kids,’ he chuckled, “think that place is haunted. There are some weird stories about that church.”

I laughed. “The cemetery is right under my bedroom window. They may be right.”

“Tina!”

“What? I’m just agreeing, Angie.”

“Speaking of which, here it is. You can drop me here, and take a right.”

“Angie, here’s a ten for my part of the fare. I’ll see you tomorrow at the staff meeting.”

“Okay, girl, don’t stay up and write too long tonight.”

I put my hand over my heart, with my best Scarlet O’Hara voice, “Who me?” I laughed as I shut the door and watched them drive off.




I started down the street. The lights were on in the Rectory and in the chapel. Organ music wafted through the crisp autumn air. I recognized Mozart’s ‘Ode to Joy’ as I reached the chapel. Joyful, joyful we adore thee, I hummed along.


“It must be the voice of an angel.”

I shrieked.

The church yard gate creaked opened. “I’m so sorry. I was sitting here meditating after vespers, enjoying this fabulous fall weather. I didn't mean to scare you, but your voice was so lovely. It truly was like listening to an angel singing praise to the Lord.”

Angie’s right, I spend too much time cooped up writing murder mysteries. “I’m sorry, Father, I didn’t realize I’d started singing aloud.”

“Never apologize for singing such a glorious song. It was wonderful blessing to hear you sing.” He cupped his hand to his mouth and whispered, “Sister Agnes is always a touch flat, you know.” He nodded, conspiratorially.

I chuckled, in spite of myself. “Well, I guess I’d better be getting on home, and let you get back to your meditation.”

“Would you mind if I walked along with you? It isn’t safe for a young lady to walk alone at night. I’d feel better if I made sure the angelic voice that brightened my evening made it home safely.”

“Father, I don’t think it’s necessary. I live just on the other side of the cemetery.”

“I know, I see you sitting in the window working, quite often when I’m in the garden. It won’t take any time at all. And, I won’t take no for an answer.”

It was somewhat comforting to be escorted home by a priest. “Alright, Father.”

He walked with a slight limp, and held his hands under his cassock. He looked up into the heavens, as he strolled beside me.

He hummed the “Ode to Joy.”

I glanced at him and smiled.

"I guess it’s catching, first you, now me,” he chuckled.

“We’re almost there, Father. You really don’t have to walk the whole way. I've kept you long enough. I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense, it’s a glorious night. Just look at all of the constellations trying to peek through the city lights.”

I looked up, how long has it been since I looked at the stars?

I felt the white hot pain as the knife sliced across the base of my neck. I grabbed my neck and looked at my blood covered hands. I tried to scream, but nothing happened, just bubbling from my wound. My life was slipping away as l slid down the cemetery wall.

His eyes dark and menacing stared at me. “He told you I’d find you. I’ve been waiting so long. You’re never alone. But, look at you. You’re no better than the rest; no fight, no struggle, just making another mess for someone else to clean up.” He flipped my hair with the bloody blade of his knife.

The last thing I saw was him walking away. Nobody’s going to catch him. Nobody is going to catch….



I sit in my window looking for him.
I watch as they all leave the chapel. They don’t know.
He’s hiding in plain sight, among the saints.

Nobody’s going to catch him.

He kneels so piously in the garden.
I watch him praying, oh so holier than thou.
I walk beside him, in the garden, breathe the breath of death and decay on him.

Nobody’s going to catch him.

I stain his precious Bible, with my blood.
I wrap my cold dead fingers around his hand while he shaves.
Oh his flesh is so easily nicked.

Nobody is going to catch him.


Nobody is going to catch him. But I’m going to make his life a living hell, and there’s nobody that can stop me.



Word Count: 1591/ 2000 word limit. Short Shots for October, 2012.