Chapter 2.

2.

“I don’t know is not a fucking answer” Sarah’s cry could be heard throughout the whole hospital, the coroners composure didn’t falter as the news was delivered, he simply gave her a moment to compose herself then went on to explain that there is no way of predicting cot death and that it wasn’t her fault.

This was at no comfort to her, her baby had been stripped from her life and she wanted to know why. What did she do wrong, her husband Tom didn’t have the right words at the best of time so he merely stood dumbfounded, the preceding events had rendered him unable to do the simplest of functions, so most of the time he just stood there. Now he looked at his wife and watched as her eyes once again filled with tears, her arms began to shake and finally her legs decided against holding her up, it took both the coroner and Tom to prevent Sarah hitting the floor, they moved her to a bench and sat her down where she wouldn’t fall.

Her hands cupped her face as a way of shielding her from the outside world, in her mind her baby lived on, she imagined the touch of it’s skin against her hands the glisten in it’s eyes. In moments of hardship she would generally reach for the chain hanging around her neck and clutch at the cross it supported, she would ask the lord for direction, this time none would be given she knew that she would have to seek her spiritual council from her church.

Sarah was just twenty-seven and having to live with the news that her child had been taken from her was too much, her husband was slightly older than her but he also was no help, he fumbled around not able to do any of the things that he wanted. Her friends from church had no answers either, her church was a five minute drive from her house but today she decided to walk, the breeze was whistling through the trees of her street almost taunting her, although it wasn’t true, she could swear that the people around were looking at her and gossiping behind her back, in her mind she could hear their voices, ‘baby killer’ the thought ran through her mind echoing off the walls of her brain, her insanity made her hurry her step almost to the point of running. Passing the school yard near the church she couldn’t even bring herself to look at the children playing, her mind would make the chants ‘Sarah, Sarah the baby killer’ the voices would sing in unison, the quiet of the church was a blessing, its hallowed walls gave a silence that gave her peace, but now it also brought doubt.

“Ah, Sarah, I was going to come by your house this week.” Pastor Paul’s voice was very calming, he had proceeded over the church since she was a child, he had even married her to Tom. Throughout her whole life she would come to him for guidance whenever the answer would not make itself apparent.

The words that she had previously formed in her head had lost her on the walk to the church, all she could ask was, “why?” “Why did god kill my baby?” the tears welled more and more in her eyes she just wanted an answer.

“God didn’t kill your baby, Sarah, it was just his time.”

“His time, his fucking time, he was eight weeks old.” Sarah had never cursed in church but today she just didn’t care. “The doctors don’t know why he died they say it just happened, so it must have been god.” Her reasoning seemed sound even though she was yelling it through an empty church.

“God’s plan isn’t always apparent to us, but we must have faith, we must trust that he knows better and that there was more for your son than earth could offer.”

“Fuck that! God killed my baby, he murdered a eight week old child, and this is who you would have me pray for, well not any more.” In one swift motion Sarah tore the chain from her neck clasping the cross in her hand, then hurled it through the church. “Here” Sarah reached into her purse and took out a photo of her baby, “That’s the baby your God killed last week, and who knows how many more innocent children along with him.” With this she turned her back and began for the door, she turned back one more time, “At least the Devil only takes those who deserve to die.”

Here it begins!

I have decided that my next piece of work will be published periodically on this shiny new blog, I will be releasing it a chapter at a time any comments greatly appreciated, so far the project is untitled but I’m sure over the next couple of months I will work one out. 

Without further ado……

 

 

1.

 

Standing alone looking down at his hands as they glisten under the soft mist of the late moon, his feet feel wet as the blood of his latest victim pools in his shoes and soak his sock with a crimson hue. A quiet finally washes over him as the last breathes of the man below him push forth from his lungs to be lost in the atmosphere, a gentle irony hits him as he realizes that his last whimpers would only be heard by the man the took his life. He is calm and justified, his victim has expired, he has achieved his goal, another one down, yet one more notch on his belt.

Looking around he watches as the trees sway gently in the easy midnight breeze, not another soul within one hundred miles of here, the rest of the night would be spent digging. As always he will cut his prize into many pieces and bury them deep in the ground, then he would place seeds into the soil planting a reminder of his misdeeds, some of the others are now big enough to sit under casting a pleasant shade to relax on a hot spring afternoon.

He has no real rhyme or reason to choosing his victims, some are by opportunity some are purely on impulse, he doesn’t differentiate between good or bad, ugly or handsome, male or female, rich or poor, he is not interested in how they lived there life his only interest is how it would be ended, he knows that he has a problem, he knows that one day he will be caught, he knows that he will be punished, but not today, for he knows that the man at his feet that has now become fertilizer for the tree to bloom from the nutrients in his blood wont be his last victim, his name is Greyson and he is troubled.

The drive home is pleasant, the early morning dew on the grass smells the same for every victim, his content wont be jarred today, the next phase of his ritual will come into play tonight, first he will sleep a deep slumber, finally relaxed he knows his purpose on this planet is meaningless, but who will stop him, God? The thought makes him chuckle to himself, not that he believes in God, he just knows that if God did make him then he made him this way for a reason. Many times he would ponder life, purpose and religion, during these meditations he would wish that there was a god, god would give him purpose, for surely if there was a god, then god would be his maker, and his maker made him to do exactly what he did many times over, and would do many times again. 

 

 

Stay tuned..