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[Moono]

This is one of a few chapters of an on-running story that i am writing.
I'd like feedback, of all sorts.

I will also be posting up the other chapters (In this thread of course) hopefully a chapter a day.

Enjoy.

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1

Google says that I don’t exist. Or at least, there is no record of me on the World Wide Web! This is virtually the same thing.
The internet, the largest growing form of communication. Anyone can ‘log in’ and use it. From Fat, geeky fan-boys arguing over which female, Japanese cartoon is hottest, to middle aged women finding there one and only true love, who happens to be in another country and probably in death row. There are also the millions of men, everyday, searching through the stacks of scrub. A man can get rich quickly if he finds the right customers.

I believe that more people use the internet regularly than can read or write, I mean. How much do you need to know to point and click when it comes to scrub? However, no one will ever admit ANY of this. The internet has all of these geeks and lonely woman, not forgetting the horny men, but is as if it doesn’t exist, itself.
Of course all of this probably makes you think that I do not like the internet, which is far from the truth. I love the internet. It is the only way I can get to do my hobby and be home in time for tea. . I think I was just sour at Google; I type my name in and up pops a picture of some American woman… Go figure!

I was linked to a news website; my friend told me that I’d have some comment on it. As soon as he said that to me, I wanted to have no comment, I wanted to prove him wrong. So I read it. “JACK THE RIPPER RETURNS!” as soon as the title sank into my head, I had already formed an opinion, proved my friend right and lost all faith that our country contains anyone educated among it.

I call my friend a smug bas…. Well I call him a name, and then I read on. Once I get to the end of the two page article, I remembered why I wasn’t a fan of corporate news. Phrases like “a deranged psychopath with a lust for innocent young helpless women!” I read the facts this had to offer then I made my own conclusion. This man had been killing women for eight months, all around the UK. The police seemingly had no clue who he was, and his victims were all women. Helpless is one of those words anyone can place there. How someone can not be helpless, I mean if they didn’t have an Uzi or any sub-machine gun they are pretty helpless. Innocent until proven guilty! Sure murder is wrong, but these women might not have been nice people, they may have been avoiding taxes or killing small puppies on weekends, we don’t know them. I mean Jack the Ripper was a bad man, but he only killed prostitutes, and not the high class expensive ones – the cheap backstreets of London type! Every cloud, right?

Now, is this me justifying murder? No! It is me simply making a manipulated situation seem slightly different for the people with less than half a brain!
He, the killer that is, can hardly be deranged. He has managed to stay out of the police's reach for eight months. To me that sounds like a calm, rational and probably intelligent person.

The icon on my desktop says that I have mail, so I click it. It is from a woman, Sandra, a 40 year old divorced, bubbly bundle of joy. Well that’s if you believe her profile. She wants to meet me for a drink. Well that is what she wrote, I know she just wants a good… well you know. I tell her that I’m nervous to meet her, and can we meet in a public place at first. That is the best line, makes them think I am as scared as them, and hooks them in all the time.

I have another message.

“I was going to say the same thing honey, let’s go for a drink at Julio’s – They have a great open seated plan!”

So many lonely women in the world. Her name is Sandra; she fell asleep at the wheel of her car ten years ago. She crashed into an oncoming car killing two children and their parents. Now if that wasn’t bad enough, one child survived and is now an orphan.

I decide to send a message back to Sandra.

“You won’t be going home tonight!”

Google tells me that I don’t exist, this tells me the police are no where near me! So many lonely women on the internet, lucky for me the internet is taboo!

[Moono]

Though i know i got no replies, i shall update regardless!


When the day dawns
2

There is a car on my drive! I look up to the windows, when I see my curtains drawn, I know what it means. I push those thoughts to the back of my head and pretend I didn’t think them.

I walk to the side door, it is quiet, and the kids are at school, so I leave the side door open, as I walk slowly to the stairs. Toys are everywhere, exactly as I left them three hours ago. Sandra might have gone out, and the car on the drive might be next doors, they said they had a new company car being delivered this week, or was that next week?

While battling with this in my mind, I start up the stairs. I was tip-toeing without thinking about it. My hand started to drift towards belt.

I hear talking, and then I hear something worse. Laughter.

There is a man's voice.

I get to the top of the stairs, I can see the bedroom from where I am, the door is slightly open and I glance in. I see Sandra; lay on the bed, staring up with those eyes. Her bedroom eyes. The ones I saw the day I asked her to marry me, when we first made love, now her eyes are cheating on me sharing the look she once gave me with some Joe Public.

I try to see more, but the bulk of a man steps in my way, knocking the door closed. Part of me is grateful, but a bigger chunk of me wants to see more, wants to give Sandra a chance to tell him to leave.

I tell myself she doesn’t want to cheat on me as I walk closer, my body seemingly not listening to my mind.

I’m at the door.

I can smell him, his musk makes me sick, I want to be sick. I feel dizzy, light headed. I place my hand upon the wall next to the door as I breathe deep.

The room went silent.

Shi-! Did they hear me? Did I breathe so heavily that they heard me? I stop to think for a second. They didn’t hear me; they are in that room for a reason. I try and think more. A surge jolted through my body.

My eyes flash and I am blinded by rage. I am actually ****ing blinded by rage.

The next few seconds pass, and I can see again.

I look up and I am in the bedroom, my bedroom. Sandra is still lying on the bed. And that rat bastard is whimpering in the far corner. He is topless and his fake tanned, buffed up body just sat shaking. I ask my self why he is so scared, then I look to my hand. My gun is in it. Smoking.

“Sandra?” The sniveling man asked.

She didn’t answer, probably shock and fear. That is what I told myself.

Why is my gun smoking?

“Sandra?” This time I ask, looking towards where she was.

“YOU KILLED HER, YOU SHOT HER! YOU’RE CRAZY!” The man shouted.

I drop to me knees, she was wearing the lingerie I bought her last month. It was white, now it was red. She was riddled with bullet holes. I count five. I try and reach to her from where I am, but my tears blur my vision. And I fall.

I am now lay face down in our bedroom, sobbing and letting the man that killed my wife get to his feet.

“You killed her!” I say as I clamber back to my knees. My tears gave me strength, I feel my sadness turn to anger as I see him trying to unlock the window. I raise my arm once more.

“Please, Sarge. Not like this Sarge!” He mutters.

I didn’t register these words until after the shot was fired and his body hit the floor.

I climb into the bed and lay next to Sandra.

“I got him!” I whisper to her. “You are safe now!”

What a day to finish work early.