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Behind that Smile – by Micki
Stalking down a dark alley way, the black figure paused; waiting, certain about what he would find further in the cluttered space.
He inhaled, letting the air slip easily into his lungs. There it was, near the back. With the location now known, a smile spread across the hooded face; the alleys dark shadows obscuring any identity of who this mad man might be.
Taking another slow step deeper into the gloom, the figure heard a sound; the barely perceptible sound of air escaping human lips, the salty smell of fear slowly increased.
Stopping again, the figure closed his eyes in sweet ecstasy. The thrill of the hunt, and soon to be kill, sent adrenalin rushing through his limbs. But he still had to be careful, one slip-up and the whole thing would come crashing down on him.
Aidan sat on a bench, watching the police on the other side of the pond. An officer started taking down the barriers to the public; the evidence had been collected, the pictures taken, and the body carted away, there would be nothing more for them to do.
A breeze kicked up that caused her to zip her jacket up all the way. “Always another, killing each other.” She hid her curled fists in her pockets, hoping the tremble in her arms and hands would go unnoticed to passers-by; then sighed and removed them. If anyone looked closely, they would see it wasn’t a shiver that caused her whole body to tremble so, it was her; but why?
A frown rippled across her face as she rose and started walking away from the pond and through the park, toward home.
She had known why she trembled, hadn’t she? It hadn’t always been this way, that much she could remember….wait, where was Chris?
Turning, she found no-one behind her. “Chris?” A muscle spasmed in her neck; panic crept into her mind. “Chris?!”
“I told ye I would nev’r leave ye.” A strong, warm hand was placed on her shoulder; the panic fled immediately.
Aidan turned; there he was, best friend for….how long? All she knew was they were the same age and the best of friends.
“Cam’ on, we should be gettin’ back.” Chris turned, waiting for her to follow before continuing the walk toward home.
They talked a bit as they passed a few people at the edge of the park, receiving funny looks before the pair turned off down the street.
“Why do th’y always look at us?” Aidan whispered, snuggling deeper into her jacket to ward off the wind. “Maybe th’y can nae understand yore accn’t because ets stronger th’n mine?”
Chris smiled and nodded as a person passed by. “I’m proud to say that yore accn’t is just as thick as mine.”
The street was old, the cracks in the sidewalk were made from more then just the weather. But, despite the less then stellar condition of the side walk, the houses on Wye pass were, though also old, in excellent condition; a funny contrast Aidan thought each time she passed through. Even the little church, and attached house, had kept in/ exteriors as well as neat yards. The only possible oddity was the wasp nest on the back of the building, hanging lazily on the overhang.
Ah, yes. Something shifted inside Aidan as she gazed at the modest building with a cross on top. The Church,… her home; were she and Chris lived with Pastor Derek Kestor. The only one that helped her, other than Chris.
She glanced at her watched; Derek would be expecting them about now.
Pushing the door open to the little house, she waited for Chris to join her before closing it again.
“Ah, Aidan.” Derek walked out of the kitchen and stood in the hallway. “How was your walk?”
Aidan paused before hanging up her coat. “The police found ah body ‘n the pond at Moore Park.”
She nodded, then frowned. “Why do pe’ple kill other pe’ple?”
Derek sighed quietly before looking her in the eye. “I don’t know Aidan, some people just do…Have you taken your medicine?” She shook her head. “I didn’t think so, I put it on the table all ready to go.”
Chris followed them into the kitchen, silent as usual. He didn’t speak often around other people.
Picking up the eye-dropper, Aidan counted three drops of the grey-black liquid into a glass before adding water. With a face, she downed the entire glass and shivered; the vilest drink ever.
“Chris?” Her voice was quiet.
Chris’s gaze was cozy. “Aye, Aidan?”
“Do I h’ve hom’wrk t’night?”
A quick head shake from Chris. “No, luv.”
At the stove, Derek frowned. “Are you talking to yourself again?”
Another head shake, this time from Aidan. “No, I’m talk’in to Chris.”
The frown deepened on Derek’s face. “Yes…Chris…Supper won’t be ready for a little while yet, you can do as you please until then.”
After Aidan left, Derek sighed. Some days he couldn’t tell if the medication was working; and this was a new batch, only time would tell. He turned back to the stove; the only thing he wasn’t sure about was Chris. But then who was, other then Aidan?
Detective Bayrd stared at the file before her on the desk. Another one killed by The Ghost, the signature nail through the left eye confirmed it.
Shaking her head, she put the file with the other confirmed cases of The Ghost. Each case was different; random even with some repeats that were either the same type of weapon or person, but all of them had a nail through the left eye.
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