Next Bestseller (standard:mystery, 3700 words)
Author: AEAyubi	Added: Aug 14 2006	Views/Reads: 3233/2132	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is the first chapter of my next book. Let me know what you think.

Chapter One: 

ONE 

He saw her, through the second story window of the stately old colonial
home, the window that he knew was her bedroom. It was the only light on 
in the house and his eyes were drawn to that open window like a fly 
would be drawn to a bug light. 

She was getting dressed. 

Tonight would be the night, he decided, his face twisted into a wicked
smile. Tonight would be their night rather. She was alone - as she had 
been every Monday night - he knew this from all the nights prior that 
he had sat in the oil like shadows of his van, parked across the street 
from her house, just watching it. Watching her. For the last three 
weeks he had been stalking her, following her when she had gone to 
work, when she had gone shopping, to the beauty salon, everywhere she 
had gone in the last three weeks he had been with her and yet she was 
unaware of his looming presence. 

He had even talked to her a few times, their conversations had never
been longer than a handful of words spoken out of common courtesy, but 
at the time that had been enough to satisfy his need of her. Them off 
handed words had calmed him, had pacified him temporarily. 

But tonight he needed more, tonight he needed not just to hear her
beautiful voice utter words, but to hear it wail in mixed fear and 
pain. Tonight he needed to feel the warmth of her flesh against his 
own, needed to taste her tangy sweat, her blood. 

He needed to kill her. 

He was an addict, he couldn't control himself, he suffered from the same
type of dire need a recovering alcoholic or druggie went through during 
the first few weeks of trying to live a life of sobriety. That voice 
talked to him. “Just one more, one more won't hurt.” And it was hard to 
ignore that voice when it was so damn enticing, so alluring. 

He had tried to control his need to kill, Lord how he had tried, he had
even passed up two different opportunities to bring death to someone 
and relief to his intense craving. But now none of it really mattered, 
it counted for nothing, because he was about to relapse. He was about 
to kill again. 

This would be the absolute last time, that he swore to himself as he
stepped out of his black Dodge and headed to the front door of the 
house, but then again he had sworn the exact same thing last time and 
the time before it. This time he meant it though. No more! 

He'd been doing it ever since the night of his twelfth birthday and the
number of victims he had compiled since then was unbelievable. Not 
because it was hard to imagine a person killing so many people, but 
hard to believe that he hadn't been caught by the police yet. 

His victims were always women, his technique for killing them was never
changed or varied in any way, he left the bodies in the same fashion 
every time and still the homicide detectives hadn't realized that they 
had a serial killer on their hands. Stupidity and incompetence was what 
he thought of it, he had expected to have been caught by now. No that 
was wrong. He had hoped and prayed to have been caught, he had even 
pictured himself walking out one day and finding himself surrounded by 
police cars, officers with pistols drawn ready to take him down or take 
him out. But that prayer hadn't been answered. He knew that the best 
way, maybe even the only way for him to stop killing was to be locked 
behind bars for the rest of his life. Then again he also knew death 
would do it too. Suicide would have ended it all, it would end his 
miserable existence on this damned planet, it would soothe the pain of 
being alone, and above all it would put an end to the killings. 

Yes it would fix everything, but he just couldn't bring it upon himself
to slice his own wrists or pull the trigger of a pistol that was shoved 
into his own mouth. It was ironic, he could kill the innocent 
mercilessly, but he couldn't kill himself. He climbed the front steps 
and rang the bell, from inside he heard the ringing chimes and a voice. 


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