Vicious Killer Brought To Justice!!!

Yesterday the bloodthirsty rampage of Mr Michael Paxton came to an end. “Bloody Mike” as he’s now being known started his reign of terror on the Frank Desert Apartment Building Yesterday morning. First he broke in and killed his neighbour Mr Hillary Clapton with a firearm and then threw his wife Sandra Clapton out the window of her 30th floor apartment. After this he found and brutally beat upon the 17 year old Steve Johnson and later 31 year old Buck Cravitis on the 30th floor staircase. It is at this point residents from nearby floors reported hearing his strange hysterical wailing. “He was sort of crying out about… I don’t know- something” one woman put it.

Once police arrived they worked their way up all the staircases at once leaving Michael trapped. He proceeded to throw up blood across the hall before stumbling back to his apartment ‘as if in a stupor’ and went about crudely fortifying his door. What happened from this point is unclear until police reached him and broke down the door just as Paxton flung himself out the window to his death.

What drove a seemingly normal man to commit such a horrific collection of crimes? Even now no one is sure. “Mr Paxton’s home life is being investigated so that the roots of this horrible crime can be more fully understood” said the Chicago City Police Chief. “But we want to assure the city this was merely a freak incident and should not be attributed to some deeper cause”.

Trick or Treat Part 20- The End

He crept out of the shadows like a ghost. His hair was wild and long both on his head and face. There was grime on his face and he smelled like he hadn’t showered in months. His eyes gleamed like a cats; clearly he’d had a long time to perfect his night vision.

“So you’re the guy who moved in upstairs. Hey do you think you could have thrown up any louder I was trying to sleep.”

I was too chocked to say anything for a moment. I swallowed.

“Yeah… sorry…”

“And now you’ve lead those things down here. Thanks genius…”

“Sorry… I was out in the desert but they were gonna get me.”

“Well you should have driven away.”

“I tried that… its impossible to escape you just end up back where you started.”

“Woah spooky shit.”

He laughed.

“So what you come back here for?”

“Figured I’d try barricading myself back in.”

“That worked so well for you last time. Hey weren’t there a broad and a kid with you?”

I said nothing.

“That bitch had it coming.”

I looked up at him.

“What makes you say that?”

“They all did. This town attracts the lowest scum there is. Rents cheap, the Sheriff don’t do shit, and good old Buck gives the people what they want.”

He grinned. My eyes were adjusting to the dark now. I could see his blackened broken teeth. I glanced down at the pile of small bones with barely any scrap of meat left on them.

Rodents.

He noticed my distaste.

“Oh fuck off its cheaper. Free in fact.”

The door bolt was close to coming loose; a hundred fervent rattles making up for the lack of oil. I started to panic again.

“How do we get out?”

“There’s no way out. They’re going to come down here and kill both of us in this most excruciating ways imaginable to our puny little minds.”

I heaved and sobbed. He then spoke again.

“Or… we take the easy way out.”

He held up a small revolver. I felt my skin go very cold again. He sniffed with indifference.

“Well suit yourself I suppose.”

He put the gun in his mouth and blew his brains all across the back wall. I leapt back with a shout. His skull and brains lay everywhere as his body slumped over and the hungry rats exacted their revenge. The door still rattled.

“Hello? Are you still there?” The fucking kid went on.

The bolt finally gave and the door was torn away. As the little horrors burst into the room I reached for the pistol. I turned to find them within feet of me, arms outstretched, and I put the gun in my mouth. I shut my eyes tight and let out a childish squeal. I felt their little hands try and pull my gun away as I fired.

Then I felt nothing.

Trick or Treat Part 19- Coming Home

I cringed with the sound their heads squished under my tires made. But looking back I saw them get up like nothing happened despite their faces- buckled inwards and contorted. I drove as fast as I could back to the only place that still made any sense; the house. I stepped sprinted through the broken door into the, now familiar, living room. I could still hear the scratching downstairs. I thought I had bought myself a while as they turned around and caught up. But after only a few minutes of near silence those terrible little voices emerged from the darkness.

“Hello? Are you still there? We still want candy! You know its Trick or Treat!”

How did they catch up so fast? Why did they want me so much? Eventually I screamed out in frustration as I saw the first little silhouette step into the piece of street in front of my door. He turned to me and pointed.

“Hey everyone he’s here!”

Suddenly death didn’t seem like such a great option to be passively embraced. I was scared now like really fucking terrified. All alone surrounded by what could only be the very spawn of whatever devil was out there. They started to crawl through the gaps in walls and broken windows as others streamed in the front door. Eventually I sprinted down the short hallway and wrenched open the hatch down to the basement. They were closing in on all sides as I dropped down the staircase like a stone; locking and bolting the entrance behind me. I tripped on the way down and went sprawling across the hard broken stone. I slowly picked myself up- the general numbness suppressing any sensations of physical pain. It was very dark down here save for the single beam of moonlight coming in through the inch wide slit in the corner. It was constantly being temporarily shaded by kids walking past to get into the house. The staircase entrance rattled incessantly. I was drenched with sweat, my heart pounding hard whilst I physically trembled.

Then a quiet raspy voice came out of the darkness.

“Well you’re not one of them…”

I almost jumped out of my skin before slowly turning to the voice.

“Neither are you…”

Trick or Treat Part 18- Solitude

I recoiled in horror. I could feel it, hot and salty on my tongue, and spat it out. She wasn’t moving; her eyes stared blankly into the distance. I reached out and shook her. She didn’t move. I shook her again, tears of frustration running down my face. There was a faint stream of red from the corner of her mouth- it stained her pale skin like a dead elk in the snow. How did she die?

I still don’t know. But shit happens I guess. I never really thought about- just taking it as another slice of the shit cake I’d been given. I glanced up at my rear view. Sarah started to laugh; louder and louder like the fucking harpy she was. I swung around to face her: every bad thing I’d suppressed whilst sat on that damn couch, every darkest thought, and every fleck of screaming impotent rage I’d bottled up. I had it all ready to unleash on her in a torrent able to match every one sided shouting match combined.

But she wasn’t there anymore.

I turned back to face the town. There must have been thousands now- even as the space they filled grew wider and wider there always seemed to be more, sneaking through the heat haze like desert wraiths, to fill the growing gaps in the line. They were closer now, maybe 100 feet from me, and still they slowly trudged this way. They reminded me of the late night walks of shame I would often see from my skip. Drunk enough to be talked into the sack by someone resembling a bridge troll but not enough to actually follow through on that. They stumbled down back streets in broken high heels or with other people’s lipstick staining their faces. I used to judge them. “Chemical dependant idiots” I thought, lighting up as I did so-

The thought of red staining pale skin though brought me sharply back to the present; crying little bitter tears. I was now filled with a rage unmatched in my life. I was picturing Sarah’s cackling face on every single shit eating little kid in front of me. There weren’t knives in those buckets now, as far as I was concerned, there were just notes that all the read the same thing.

I started the engine again and my eyes narrowed.

Trick or Treat Part 18- No Way Out

There was no point in running. The kids were spreading into the desert in all directions so this weird geographic loop meant all trying to escape would do is put you back where you started just out of gas and stressed out. We sat there in silence. I looked over at her; she said nothing-keeping her eyes straight ahead. There seemed to be hundreds of them now. I wasn’t sure where the new ones were coming from and yet here they were. Streaming out into the desert in all directions in search of us. I realized now why that fucking kids parents never left; never even mentioned it.

They knew they were trapped; and explaining that to their son would mean coming to terms with it themselves.

I’d been so fucking stupid. People weren’t leaving this town; that’s not why the houses were empty. The town was emptying itself the only other way it could. Eventually my companion did speak.

“I would have fucked you.”

I said nothing.

“I was gonna get back at my husband one way or another and I figured ‘hey where’s a guy that I can fuck to make my husband completely worthless’.”

She turned to me.

“And there you were…”

My throat was dry with dehydration but I eventually croaked out a response.

“How did you then?”

“What?”

“How did you get back at him then?”

“A went to blow him later and ripped out all the hair he had down there.”

I said nothing.

Then I laughed.

I couldn’t stop laughing to the point I felt light headed. Even as the swarms got closer I kept laughing. She laughed to. It was not the sweet little tinkle of the broken Southern Belle I’d met a few days ago. Hers was a survivor’s laugh; the deep visceral growl in the face of a slow and unavoidable death. I turned and had a real look at here. Sarah still sat in the backseat, staring at me via the rear view, but I didn’t care anymore. The sensation of utter despairing sickness remained but there was no bite. There was nothing left to hurl because I’d eaten nothing. No score, No food, No hope. But there was a woman in the same spot, no manipulation, no way of letting her down, and no future to think about.

I kissed her this time.

And she left a taste of blood in my mouth.

Trick or Treat Part 16- The Pastor

I idled the car for a while, the rumble of the car matching my own trembling. My hands continued to grip the wheel as I stared at the crowd spreading out into the desert.

As a child my mother sent me to church as often as possible; thought the fear of god would set me straight. She of course couldn’t go; she was into the second bottle of dime store gut poison to “take the edge off” the hangover. At the front stood this old fuck; Pastor Stevens. He beat the shit out of his wife every night. We all knew it; she was always all covered up and his knuckles were far too bruised for someone who used their hands only for prayer.

He was always preaching about Hell. I wasn’t from the best of neighbourhoods so most of the parents didn’t show; just sent their kids to be taught morals like my ma. As a result all he preached was how we’d each have our own personal Hells made for us. “We each made this bed and God will make us sleep in it.”  One day one of the kids, a slick shit with a grin that’d make you lose sleep for not having punched, spoke up. He started askin’ all these questions about God and Hell and shit; seriously bothering the pastor. That guy flipped out: nearly beat the kid to death on the spot. He didn’t show to church the next week. He’d gone home that night and hit her a little too hard- then he hung himself.

My own personal hell. Well I hate people, I need crystal to bare the pain of being, I can’t stand women I can’t have, and all I wanted was a passive painless death.

So here I am; kids who won’t stop knocking on, and breaking down, your door till you answer; not a single dealer to be found for a hundred miles; no thoughts but a girl I’ll never speak to again; and the certainty of death by several hundred shards of metal in my stomach.

I didn’t need to die to reach my own personal hell.

I was already there.

Trick or Treat Part 15- Ouroboros

The desert stretched out in front me as the town of hell got smaller and smaller in my rear view. I cracked a very small smile before the stomach cramps beat it down. The kids fanned out into the desert far behind us, there gleaming soulless black eyes fixed on mine even over the distance. I tried to keep my eyes away as their light little cackles echoed around in my fragile mind. Suddenly the endless dark fields of dust were dizzying. I felt my eyes cross and the horizon started to tip and bob. I struggled to hold focus as my hands went cold and clammy again. I gripped so tight my knuckles were bleached white by the strain and any slight tremor could send us swerving. I focused hard trying not to pass out as the sight of those little knives being shoved down throats faded over my vision hard. I struggled hard to hold my attention on the non-existent road. I picture white lines across the dirt in front of me leading off into the horizon; off to freedom.

Eventually I saw the first faint shapes over the horizon and sighed with relief. At last the hell was over. I turned to her; her eyes were dead ahead and she remained silent. As the shapes came into clearer view they became unsettlingly familiar. Little figures surrounded the town and were spreading out into the desert in all directions including ours.

Those little figures- searching.

Hunting.