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Dear Stalkers,
Mostly story starts to be abandoned and forgotten all together. So don't blame me if you get hooked and it just ends. You were warned.
Whispers in the night

Every night it seems like its the same thing. The voices that whisper with such intensity I think my skull is going to burst. I don't understand what they are trying to tell me.
Wake up.
Can't you see what's happening?

Its all your fault. Its always been your fault.

Sometimes if I turn the TV on, even if its just static and focus on that I can silence them as I finally manage to drift off. Or if I draw, but lately...
Well lately the drawings have been less than pleasant. What does it all mean? Did I do or see something I shouldn't have? There's too many questions and no anwsers that I can find.

He sat behind a desk an impresive looking neat stack of files giving the illusion he was a tidy and organized man but letting your gaze wander you'd see it was simply a facade.
"Got another one this week."
"You're shitting.", he grumbled as a young kid, probably just graduated from the Academy barged into his office and held out a stack of assorted papers to him. Christ didn't anyone knock anymore?
He huffed as he snatched them from him and leaned back in his chair as he shuffled through them. Frowning he set them down almost just as quickly and decided not to wait for the pastey ginger to leave before lighting up a cancer stick. He took a deep inhale and let it out blowing with long extended groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes shut.
"I suppose the media has caught wind of this by now?"
The kid fidgeted, Howard could tell that much from the ruffle of material and the shaky tone in which he anwsered.
"They actually beat us to the scene. They said they recieved some kind of call from a payphone telling them they'd get a hell of a shot if they showed up at the address. That came from Tom Moore's mouth from the news."
"I know who the hell Tom is. s**t I knew him back when he was sucking his mom's tit for Christ sakes.", Howard grumbled as he leaned forward and flicked the cigarette into an ash tray one of the older guys he worked with had got him. THATS JUST HOW IT IS...NO BUTTS ABOUT IT. Apparently some idiot thought there was humor to be found in the saying stamped in the bottom. He filled his lungs with another drag and stood to his feet with a grunt.
Howard Greeves was at the point in his life when all those aches and pains seemed to attack with a vengenance, and somedays it showed. Today was one of those days.
As he pried apart the aged and manilla colored blinds of the window overlooking the small town of Shade he noted the ever growing gray which had seemed envelop them for weeks now. It all seemed so fitting, like they were all part of some big movie one of those old timey flicks. Any minute now the monster would rear its ugly head again, and it'd all be down to the lone hero to save the day.
"So how bad was it?", he asked as he turned from the window and leaned over the desk moving aside the papers to get a look at the pictures. "Damn b*****d."
It was a young woman just like before but as Howard looked at it their was one defined difference. This one wasn't nearly as mutilated. In fact if he compared the two victims he might even say this wasn't the same guy that had been floating around for some time now. With the body count rising it was getting harder and harder to keep the dogging press away and keep the masses blind. He looked back to the top papers and tensed as he looked back to the rookie.

"Oh God...Did they tell Frank yet? Man I remember when Jeannie used to work down at the Diner. She was a nice girl always kept my cup filled and never took any of the tips I shoved her way."
He slumped in his chair rubbing his eyes once more as he groaned. Jeannie Gregg, a thirty year old woman a kid and an up and coming lawyer. She was going to make it here in this town as the only Attorney as of yet to make the scene. Her father and Howard had went to school together, Frank. Frank was just as kind hearted as his kid had been, a vetrenarian. Retired now, just like Howard was going to be. But not if this kind of s**t kept hitting the fan every time he turned around. There was no way he was backing out and letting the newer idiots bumble this. This old dog still had some fight in him.
"We tried but he's out of town. He doesn't have any cellphone or anything on him. We called the motel where we think he stayed and his relations over there in Bridgeport. They're all looking for him."
Howard strummed his fingers on the desk his jaw clenched,"I just don't understand why we can't find this son of a b***h. I mean for Christ's sake this makes the third victim in what has it been now? Six or seven months. So whoever he is he's still floating around. No one's come forward, said anything? You haven't heard nothing?"
The kid almost grinned but checked himself as he cleared his throat. "Everyone's paranoid Mr. Greeves. There's the rumors you know, most come from the Diner. But we get a call from Mrs. James about every other day saying she's seen the killer. But its usually just for stir. She turns every damn trip into a publicity stunt and it makes us look like idiots."
Howard went to pick out another cigarette but perched it on the edge of the ash tray instead. He was trying to quit, but it was like fighting the whims of the weather.
"If it was up to me I'd say forget it and look elsewhere. But since the woman's husband signs our paychecks basically."
His hand went for the cigarette and he placed it in the corner of his mouth lighting it up watching the smoke curl about with dulled amusement. "We have no choice but to roll over and obey."
Ophelia James paced the foyer wringing her hands and shaking her head as she bit her lower red painted lip.
"Where the hell can he be? Doesn't he know how important this event is? I mean nearly all of the town will show up and then for him of all people to be late. I would die. I would absolutely die!"
She turned on her heel and took up the phone once more and dialed it only to slam it back down on the reciever with a ferocity few knew the woman possesed. "Damn things dead must be!"
It wasn't like Dallas to be this late. She paled as a thought crossed her mind. Suppose that nut that was running amuck had attacked him last night at the Office? Why didn't he call?
She turned with a sigh of relief as he dropped his briefcase down and looked to her eyebrow raised," Sweetheart I told you I was going to be late tonight."
"I know its just the program says you're supposed to go and give your speech Dallas. If we're late it won't sit well...From what Tom has told me you're number and favor has fallen considerably ever since you passed that law about leashing pets and permits and what not."
"Oh open your eyes Ophellia! Its more than damn dogs theese people hate me for! I hate this damn town. I hate the people. I hate the seclusion, the close knit ties of people the cliques. Its no damn different here than it was in Minnesota!"
He fell silent and the silence between them seemed to suffocate him, he loosened his tie and walked briskly away. He approached the fridge the force of which made the bottles lining the door clink like a welcoming symphony.
Come on Dale, just slug a few of us back and all of your problems will just drown.
"What are you doing?! You can't! We have to leave now. We had to leave some time ago. I don't see why your paperwork couldn't wait until tommorow!", his wife with her nagging shriek sounded as she snatched the bottle from his hand and set it aside and grabbed him roughly by the arm dragging him to the car. For a woman of her build she was quite strong, her manicured nails dug through his sleeves. He wished she would have at least let him change. Thats why he couldn't stand her. She was suffocating him. Everything in his life was out to kill him it seemed. Everywhere he turned.
Thats why he needed to make the execuses...there was only one person who let him do anything and everything he needed no matter when or how. All he needed to do was slip her some of the community tax money, and why wouldn't he? Those dipshits wouldn't know any different.
"Dallas whats that smell?"
He froze and his knuckles began to pale as he gripped the sterring wheel tighter. Damn it! I knew I should have changed when I got home! Great now the hell are you going to coat this one over?!
"Whats that?"
"I don't know there's the strangest of smells. Its almost like...Like something rotten. Like a dead animal or something." Ophellia raised a hand to her nose and gagged and looked about. She could see no dead animal that Dallas had hit and the car hardly ever sat long enough for somethign to have crawled in it and died. "You don't smell that Dallas?!"
"Its probably something off in the woods. A deer or something. Just roll down the window."
But Dallas had to admit, now that she mentioned he did smell something absolutely putrid he himself now gagged and rolled the window down a hand clasped over his mouth. He had always had a weak stomach when it came to smells in particular.
"Christ...What the hell is that smell?! It worse than the damn sewage lines."
A figure shadowed in darkness dragged the rest of its misdeeds behind it as it lifted the bag and tossed it into the smokehouse along with the others. It browsed through them and pulled one out and ran a nail over the face the skin of which had dried looking like stretched leather over the skull. The skin flaked off easily enough it seemed however this didn't satisfy the monster as it let out a growl of sorts and hauled it out as well as some others to a stump and unwrenched a hatchet from its base. Each body had its own story, but they were from times before.
They'll never find us now. the nightmare will never end., a small child's voice sobbed as a small skeletal form was splintered to pieces with angry howls and grunts. The pieces carelessly swept into a rusted metal bin to end up no one knew where.
Don't worry, little one. This voice was older but gentle and sweet a woman, trying to console the sobs which echoed in the woods around them as another body was dissassembled like a murderous puzzle. The being held the skull in its hands and stroked it as if they might be caressing flesh of the living in their palm. But then the skull was placed upon the stump as well and the hatchet fell to it.
No matter how dark the night may seem... The sounds of bones hitting the shallow metal pan sounded in the still of the night.
The sun always rises and chases the darkness away.

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