PS: The thrill of suspense
and full appreciation of this work might not be enjoyed if the reader hasn't
read Moonpark Murderer Part 1. Kindly read the prequel ( http://litartng.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-moonpark-murderer.html#!/2013/08/the-moonpark-murderer.html ). Thank you for reading.
There atop the man she
craves so much she pounded again and again, ramming into him with mindless
repetition. Eyes bulging, the poor fellow gasped with each thrust, helpless
beneath her weight.
If she cannot have him then no one else can.
Not even her stupid meek-as-a-lamb mirror image. A mask, so dark, so
maleficient covered her face as her thoughts rolled in a murky swirl of
bloodlust
Her breaths frosted into icy reels just as
flecks of splattering blood left her wild smirk mottled. Lost in her cloak of
sweltering madness not even the finger of the December chill could touch her.
Yes!!! Die!!! She screamed!
By now the blood that had pooled beneath her
husband would easily float a full-loaded cargo ship. Yet she did not relent.
Her eighth thrust stabbed deeper than her previous, her twisted mind anxious to
hear the soft crack of her penknife as it penetrated.
Cold sweat covered her. An electrifying buzz
ran wild within her and she trembled with glee like a glutton at a buffet.
The moon, an equally perverted imbecile
turned a blind eye, leaving her in a brief shadow. A manic laugh racked her
chubby silhouette, mingling with the ghoulish beckon of a sorrowful breeze.
That along with the unending thuds of a blood-streaked knife punctuated the
silence.
And he
had a large heart. She mourned, her evolved voice thick with a sheepish
sarcasm. Since she clasped the knife in her handbag and plunged into his heart
she had barely paused to take a breath.
"Then I should see how big it is"
she said with a galling inquisitiveness like a kid about to dismantle a toy car
or a curious clockmaker about to take a watch apart.
She hesitated for a moment.
"Yes, I must see how big" she
mumbled then repeated it as if to harden her resolve.
It was then she began to cut him open: a
salmon fish to be gutted and salted. With a surgical demeanor, wild eyes and
the symphony in her head she began.
"My timid twin!My stupid sister was not
good enough for you. But she would never admit it." She barked as she
sawed past his ribs.
"I told her I will come out one day. I
told her. And now I am here. She wouldn't let me have you" she continued,
unaffected by the grate of metal on bone. An insane chuckle blossomed: quite
shocking that the fine sound of clinking china could come from something so
demonic.
"I warned her. I warned her. I warned
that if I won't have you nobody else will" she cried, tears streaming down
her excited paleness.
"Now you see"
She paused, squeezed out her knife then leaned
back to savor her handiwork. It was very pleasing. Very pleasing indeed.
It was then the jogger, a figure alien to the
horrid circumstances appeared. So it was her own sneaker strides that walked
her right into the lake of dire redness.
"I need it for work this morning, you
stupid woman"
The madman roared.
Where he was staring at, nothing stood there.
Nothing but the figment of his derailed senses.
"You foolish woman"
He leaped at the impalpable creation of his
mind, reaching for her neck. He pinned her down and smashed fist after fist
into her face until what remained of her were smaller rock fragments.
It was these pile of stones he packed into a
sack.
It was this rock-filled sack that haunted the
night with an eerie scrape.
Slowed by the headless corpse of rocks he
continued his perpetual wander. Then he whistled into the midnight.
Wife woke up later, a severe headache almost
splitting her smeared face. Doubled images plagued her vision as she stumbled
onto her feet. She looked around, unsure of where she was.
Her gaze fell.
It was then she saw it: evidences of a
macabre scene. Pieces of a homicidal puzzle. A pair of murder weapons: a
penknife and an ugly stone. A mobile phone. A vial of antipsychotics her
psychiatrist gave her earlier this morning. A lady in a slender jumpsuit. A
husband. All lying still in a pool of blood.
She screamed, shattering her world.
Within her, the sixth witness, her alter ego
snickered. The mugger continued running. Running till he got lost in a haze of
delirium. Three bodies all tangled in a gory knot. All soaked in blood.
There's no way anyone is going to believe
that he didn't do it.
He saw three dead bodies.
But the Moonpark Murderer killed only two.
Only the moon knew.
Fioye
@fezyexquisite
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