What was the mistake Denis Nelson made? How did the police catch him? This is the question that I was considering today. From nineteen seventy-eight to eighty-three He killed a minimum of twelve men. Now that's impressive in my opinion but he got caught what could he have done differently. Denis lived in a flat on the upper floor. He didn't go straight to his way of disposing body's by boiling body parts until they fell apart he did bury a few first. My head was running away with its self I need to do more research on Denis. He was just someone I had come across in old newspapers at the library and he had some very good bad ideas.
At the moment my job is a percher. It is mind-numbing I might not have the most interesting job in the world but it keeps a roof over my head. Rolling cloth measuring checking for faults and weighing it. Doing this for a minimum of eight hours a day is pretty good exercise considering that the cloth can with up to ninety kilograms and then has to be carried about seventy meters. The noise of all the looms clattering together and banging is defining and I amuse myself by saying some nasty shit to people and when they say pardon I say something else that it could have been instead. People just don't know how much I hate them.
After a crappie shift at work, I set off home. I climb into my shitty little red car of blandness. Today is a Wednesday so this time last week I went to the shop for milk and bread this week I will go to the pub for a pint. Maybe there will be someone who knows me there and they can break up the monotony with a game of darts or pool. They will probably win because I'm crap at both. They will then talk shit and put me down. Music will be on the jukebox and I will be asked questions like who sings this one now and I will say the first band that pops into my head. This will inevitably be the wrong answer and I will be ridiculed for having next to no knowledge of music. After a drink and a round of humiliation, I will then go home and enjoy myself relaxing with a good book and a good documentary. Going off the TV guide in the paper I saw that there is one about Jack the ripper on at nine.
As I drive down the road something catches my eye. I pull over and check my surroundings first. There is no one I know visible so I get out of my car nonchalantly and walk back down the road the way I came. I fake tying my shoelaces and check out the number plate of another crappie little red car identical to mine. The age is the same and the numbers and letters are completely different. This is a good find I can't take the plates now but I will be driving down this street tomorrow to see if this car is here regularly.
The pub has it's usual tea time drinkers in and I see one of the men from work. Great, he has seen me and is waving me over even better he has two friends that don't know. I wave back and make my way over I see that their drinks are nearly empty and offer to buy around This is a good tactic to win people over at first. They think I like this guy he is generous and he is mates with so and so. So he must be alright. Their guard is down and I'm in there circle. Next, I make some jokes and boom it's like I'm one of the lads.
"Jack how's it going. I didn't think I would see you here. What you having."
"Cheers, I'll have a pint."
"No worries what about you two."
The two men look shocked and then at their glasses. They ask for the same and my hour of boredom begins. Is everyone like this are we all just putting on an act?
I went to the bank to withdraw some cash then went to a sandwich shop I like that sells subs. I like them but never found out why they were called subs maybe I will look into it one day. One of the best things about this sandwich shop was the view out of the huge clear glass window. I watch people and make up little stories in my head about each person. I don't think about killing them here there are just too many witnesses. It pleases me that not everyone is an arse hole. Some might like me for just being me not to just make themselves feel good. Today seems like a slow day for the shoppers in town it must be the rain keeping them home. As I scan the street a man catches my eye. He is slim about five feet ten tall his head is shaved and he has some tattoos on his face. It isn't his appearance that has caught my attention but his demeanour. The tracksuit wearing man is acting strange. He is pacing up and down in front of a bench that has a rucksack on it. I watch as he unzips the ba
The whole scenario was surreal. I was fascinated by death and thought I wanted to kill someone. My opportunity was there his neck was in my arm. It would have been so easy to keep squeezing and squeezing until the life was drained from that shitty excuse for a human being. Would anyone care or be bothered if that cunt never stole another breath of our precious air. My mind was all jumble and I was scared. The night was passing by and the sun was coming up. An obnoxious sound came from the alarm clock upstairs in my bedroom angrily I went up and turned it off. What gives that little fucking box the right to be so irritating? Fucking beep beep beep."Give me a fucking break!"I didn't mean to shout the words but I did. Apparently, I was very loud. My neighbour felt the need to bang on my wall and shout the time and day at me."It's six in the fucking morning on a Sunday keep it fucking down. If I have to come around there and shut you up I will.""Fuc
Five thirty AM and I'm on my way to work. The traffic is amazing at this time of day. I glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse my reflection in the dull morning light. My face is swollen and one eye is partly closed on top of that I have scratches down my cheek from the shuffle with that scum bag mugger. There is no doubt in my mind that there will be questions about it all. I figured that it would be plausible that I had a few drinks on the weekend and upset my neighbour and this happened. I think the best lies have a little bit of truth that way it's harder to trip yourself up.The reason for setting off for work early this morning was to go and get the number plates off the car I saw the other day that was identical to mine. Going on my way to work gave me a reason for being out at this time of day if the police pulled me over. The other reason was there was a good chance the car would still be here and not many people around. To keep my face hidden I wore a cap with a p
Straight after work, I hit the paper shoo and bought my own copy of the paper. None of the stories interested me apart from the one about the mugging in town. Sat in my car I read the story at least three times before deciding that it said nothing about me. Knowing the truth behind the story filled me with joy. At the same time, I wished to cut the story out and frame it showing everyone what I had done. This was something I could not do and it sent me into a very black and deep depression. Never will I keep any trophies of my actions that have any legal consequences. This might not but I will play things safe. Stupid risks get people caught or killed and I don't want either of those scenarios to play out. Thinking about it further I got out of my car and tossed the newspaper in a public bin. This was not even going to enter my house and end up in my rubbish.Tonight I made a huge detour and went to the dog and cat sanctuary. After a long and boring discussion with a dumb old
"Good morning my horrible little friend. How are you today?"I would have probably shit myself if something other than woof had come out of Oliver's mouth and luckily for me that was all he had to say. He was growing on me like mould slowly and persistently. That was why last night I decided to end him today. First, though I had work to go to. Once he was fed and had his morning walk I went to work.Just before my lunch break, the manager came down from his office. His face was set to smile and he was making a beeline straight for me. It would be fucking hilarious if he fell into one of the looms now while they were running at full tilt. It wouldn't kill him but he would probably lose a finger or two. He doesn't deserve to die for being a cock but a nasty injury would be nice for all of us on the shop floor."Harry the boss wants you up in his office now."" Ok, I will be up in a minute let me just finish this.""He said now."I slammed my scissor
The dog sat there looking out of the living room window as I pulled up after work. Its face was of pure joy and love. Dumb animal if only he knew what was in store for him. Before I had even got my key in the door I could hear him scurrying around behind the door. I walked in and there he was running around in circles yapping with excitement. I bent down and gave his head a rub and a scratch behind the ear. His tea was going to be a can of the most expensive dog food the shelter had in when I got him. I had saved it for this day his final meal. If he could have told me his favourite places to piss and shit when we went for a walk I would have taken him there. He was a good dog he didn't deserve what I was going to do his ex-owners on the other hand. If I knew who they had been they might have cut my first human experience.I threw my coat on and attached the lead to Oliver. The night air was crisp and I could see the vapour from my breath. Oliver padded along at the sid
Oliver was buried in the back garden and had I planted a rose bush on top of him. He was a good boy and it nagged at my mind. He trusted me he believed he had a good place to be. I messed up. What I had done had taken the edge off how people looked for now. I don't know how long it will last but it has been three days since I took his life and inflicting pain on people was creeping back up on me.After getting a warning from my boss my mind was made up to be in charge. Work was going to see a man work his way from the bottom of the food chain to the top. No one is going to get in my way and so help them if they do. It has been three days of hard graft and long hours but already it is being noticed. I have put in forty-eight hours of work in three hours and my area has had a makeover. It has been streamlined to perfection. It used to take eight minutes to inspect one price of cloth from picking it up from the loom to checking it tagging and putting it away. Through moving
I could never have anticipated the backlash I was getting at work. nobody and I mean nobody will talk to me. It was fine with me at first but when im asking simple questions and people would act like I had said nothing meaning I couldn't get the improvements done. it was frustrating, to say the least, but I will fix them I just need to find a way without being a grassing little shit. For now, time was ticking and work needed to be done.I had torn a fingernail out from the root forward and it hurt like a bastard. It wouldn't have happened if someone would help but they wouldn't. It was a silly accident I was pulling down some racking and the shelves had lumps of wood nailed together. It was awkward to lift the timber as they were three by two on. Four by two and they were about three meters long and a meter wide. I was having to climb up the racks lift the wood and drop it down. I was in a rhythm and getting cocky. I was nearly done with the shelves when I got to a tight