ENIGMA

I am an enigma. An enigma so complex that even space envies my secrets. But I am only a clue. I am only a feeble clue to a truth so magnificent that even in death a soul may never know my meaning. I am me...

A Tribute to a Better Way

I am nothing more than a voiceless opinion swept away in the winds of a storm, born to the beat of dirt covered feet and animal skin drums; made and played by the fingers and thumbs of a young boy called “slave”. Blisters are mounds on the hands and feet that puss and bleed as gain green marches amok. Dreams and speeches merge marrying blacks as one, adopting millions beneath the wings of one King, stealing the gaze of America from podiums and black and white screens. Even through tears and blood WE WIN! Though hate propelled evil steals life on motel balconies my vitality remains and sustains my earnestness for positive change. Decades stream by in a blur of swirling colors. None of which create rainbows but more closely resemble the cyclones that steal away our homes and premature souls. Lies created in the shallow depths of a spineless Texan prove directly responsible for the deaths of thousands. Can tragedy avenge a deceased senior? Maybe I should question the intern in charge. Even though I may not be able to see through the fog, I know where this sidewalk leads, and when cement reaches sea my sails will capture the breeze and deliver me to my destination. My voyage will end and my friends will await me with outstretched arms and sincere smiles and present me with a comfort that soothes me like velvet. My problems will become frivolous and my time will go graciously and I will fade knowing that my contribution was made responsibly and whole-heartedly. I WILL live on… even if the rest of the world dies.

The Song of a Singing Bird

Laughter is a gift that can fade harsh times into a beautiful abyss. Swirling blissful colors and minds like rainbows create utopia of a world that couldn’t be further from it. Speechless days take all drama away as we parade beneath the morning sun, bathing in the cool breeze that sweeps away all gossip. In exchange we bring our children to parks to swing beneath trees filled with birds who sing to the world beneath the skies, who fly with the grace and beauty we all envy. But why envy what’s already in me? I am a free sprit. Even behind thick gray doors that pop to tease me with a temporary freedom, I still sing. I sing like the birds in the trees, soaring above the children in swings, over oceans and seas, but I will never envy their wings. For the singing bird envies me. Secretly the song the singing bird sings, is a dream to gain arms in exchange for its wings. The truth is that the singing bird wants to hug with a squeeze, and embrace with a love that only two arms can bring. So beneath the blue skies in towering green trees, the singing bird peers through an opening in the leaves, it ruffles it’s feathers and begins to sing, the song of a bird who at heart envies me.

-To those who listen…

Thank You

Twisted Life

Sometimes my days are rainy and gray and others are bright and sunny, no matter the forecast. Ironically I have come to enjoy the rainy days over the sunshine. Even though depressions sweeps over me in torrents, I find the caressing sensation of the exploding raindrops harmonic to my soul, my salute to reality. Sometimes people get lost, and their reality tends to blend with their expectations, but what we expect and what becomes isn’t always the same thing. So where do we draw the line? Do we erase all time and back to the first lie that was ever told to us and start from there rebuilding and sculpting our own fate into what we consider perfection or better yet “Socially Acceptable“? Or do we simply start from scratch, leveling with the fact that all life is meaningless until you’re actually living it? The power of a good tongue lashing is so underrated these days, physical abuse seems much more desirable. Options are scarce.

Prologue

He watched her from the furthest corner of the café, carefully taking in every aspect of her delicate form. She was beautiful, entrancing even as the midday sun shone down on her through the café window, making her glow like an angel, complimenting her soft caramel skin. The thin fabric of the sundress cascaded soothingly over her feminine form, filling all eyes with envy. Her posture was a constant reminder of her dominance over the opposite sex. Her lips were full and alluring, shimmering a glossy cherry red as they parted gently allowing the orange slice to slip into the wet warmth of her mouth. A small explosion of citrus mist sparkled the air before her face glowing like a thousand tiny orbs before gracefully falling away. She was immaculate. Mesmerizing every man she came in contact with. She was in complete control, ruling with the sweet secret between her thighs. He had to have her. Not for the night but as his queen. A queen to a king who demanded nothing short of perfection. But she didn’t seem the type to be had through the subtleties of afternoon conversation or cheap laughs, she would see right through that. His approach had to be enticing yet conservative, gracious yet firm. In a nut shell he had to be smooth and this would be the place to do it. He slipped off his wedding ring slid it into his inside jacket pocket and made his move. He slid into the open seat across from her, interlaced his fingers and stared directly into her eyes.
“Uhmmmmm, can I help you”? She asked slightly taken aback.
Even her voice was beautiful. “I appreciate you as a woman.”
“Excuse me.”
“I appreciate your elegance as a woman, it’s beautiful.
“Oh really, and why is that?”
“Well I believe that given our current male society, libido, chauvinism, and testosterone have created an unrealistic spectrum of what a real woman should be, yet somehow you remain as graceful as a butterfly. There must be a secret”.
At that moment she was captivated. He was so articulate when he spoke, so calculated, but in this day and age you couldn’t tell the angels from the demons. But Erica believed that with patience came opportunity and if you held your cards long enough the world would come to you… And that day it did in the form of a tall handsome man named Charles Washington. Little did she know what the world had in store for her?
It wasn’t long before he’d conquered her, and somewhere amongst the silky caress of his satin sheets she fell in love with him, and like a caged bird she was trapped. Neither lies nor ridiculously scheduled business trips could keep his wife a secret, especially since he was incredibly clever at avoiding the specifics of his job description. She knew there was something strange about this man and was determined to get to the bottom of it so one day as he showered she went through his wallet discovering everything from family photos complete with a wife and three teenage children to multi-million dollar bank statements. His wealth had been no secret to her. Though she didn’t know the specifics of his net worth, she had come to the conclusion that he was very well off. But not even family photos shocked her as much as what she found next. Tucked carefully in a hidden pocket of the wallet were several different ID’s all displaying different names and ages but the same face, Charles. Alongside the ID’s she’d discovered something even more disturbing, tiny newspaper clippings brandishing bold headlines that read things such as: Another Unsolved Murder, and Savage Brutality Amok, Where does it End?
Something inside her urged her not to bring it to Charles just yet and so she waited for him to take another one of his “business” trips to tear the house apart looking for any evidence to support her suspicions. She found it. Hidden behind a pair of jewelry boxes at the top of the closet she discovered a small rectangular leather case. She pulled it down and opened it only to find a black finely polished 9 millimeter and silencer and alongside that a list of names as long as 97 people long. She had stumbled upon something far more revealing than she’d wanted to find. Not only was he living a double life but he was also a hit man.
Her nights had become her torture, keeping her awake and trembling at any and ever sound, but through it all she knew to never leave a hit man. She was in too deep and she knew that if she were to leave now he would certainly know something was wrong and probably hunt her down and kill her the moment he found her. She couldn’t risk that. She had to find an easy way out without attracting any attention. She had to be patient.

Nearly a year had passed since she’d discovered his true identity, and though she was sure that he hadn’t expected a thing her nights were just as restless as ever. Her dreams were so violent and realistic, waking her at all hours of the night, drenching her in cold sweats. But as time went on she began to adjust, spending most nights alone next to a cozy fireplace enjoying the sound of nature through an open window while sipping a nice heaping cup of hot cocoa. But for some reason tonight felt different. She slid the covers from her body, slipped into her favorite robe and headed for the kitchen all the while doing her best to ignore the pricklies forming on the back of her neck. Even now with every window in the house secure the beautiful sound of nature seeped through, but she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it. Her intuition wouldn’t allow her to shake the feeling that someone was in the house. But that couldn’t be. Charles was away on business and the alarm hadn’t sounded but at that moment a small lamp aside a corner loveseat sprung to life, illuminating a middle-aged woman comfortably seated with her legs crossed enjoying a cigarette. Erica’s heart lurched at the sudden recognition of the woman. She was the woman from the photos she’d found in Charles’ wallet. She was his wife. Her hands shot up to grasp the frame of the entry way, bracing her from the faint feeling that had just flooded her. She was scared for her life and something inside warned her that she was possibly going to die right there in that cabin where she’d dreamed it would happen, but something deeper wasn’t ready to let that happen.
“What are you doing in my home?” she demanded. She stared at the woman for nearly a minute awaiting a reply, but the woman just sat there inhaling in massive drags of her cigarette.
“I SAID, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOME?” Erica exploded, scaring herself more than the stranger. Finally the woman replied. Her voice was soft and eerie and the sheer composure of it scared Erica even more.
“Seemingly a fool appeared the chicken to the fox as he licked his chops with delight, but the fox was the fool, with his judgment impaired he never had a chance to see the knife. I’m sure under different circumstances you would seem a delightful woman which is why I don’t blame my husbands
attraction to you, however given the current situation I do believe it’s safe to say that you are the assumed fox in this scenario, would you agree?”
“Mrs. Washington I swear…” She was cut off mid-sentence as the woman went on.
“Ms. Janice, I am very well aware of your knowledge of me, and I am certain that by now you have acquired some sense of what my husband does for a living. With that being said let me inform you of something, my only reason for being here today is to offer you what appears to be your only option, may you choose to decline this offer, your life will expire where you stand. Do you understand Ms. Janice?”
Somehow her nerves let up just long enough to stifle a slight head nod.
“Good”. She took another drag from her cigarette, exhaled slowly and continued. “You’re a very smart woman Ms. Janice… Smarter than the others. Now as you may know my husband is away on business. He is due to return later on this very day but by then you should be long gone.
Erica’s heart dropped somewhere in the pit of her stomach. ’WHAT DID SHE MEAN SHE’D BE LONG GONE?’ “Seeing as he treated you to this lovely cabin I believe he’s taken great care of you, has he not?”
She didn’t answer. She knew the question was rhetorical.
“As his wife I understand how easy it is to grow accustomed to such luxury so I am prepared to offer you a substantial amount of money to disappear”. She paused for a second staring at the trembling fragile woman standing in the doorway. She knew she wouldn’t have to kill this one, she was different from the others, but the facts remained. She was a pest, a rodent that had to be dealt with and promptly. She had to admit her husband had great taste in women but she would never allow some bimbo her position in his will. She had put up with this shit for far too long, and though the love was gone the money remained and she wasn’t giving it up without a fight. She took another drag from her cigarette letting the exhale envelope her face and continued. “Are you interested Ms. Janice?”
Erica’s mind raced at a million thoughts a minute. She knew what a hesitation could do to her right now and aside from that she knew that this would quite possibly be her only way out, yet her thoughts wouldn’t steer away from Charles. How would she get him off her trail? He would certainly kill her if he ever found her, but if she declined this offer she would die where she stood. Her only option was to go now and pray that he never found her. The woman reached into her inside jacket pocket and gently pulled free a 357 magnum from her trench coat and pointed it directly at Erica’s head. Her knees buckled in fear send her collapsing to the hardwood floor as her mind raced to conceive what her eyes were seeing. Her head crashed violently to the kitchen linoleum rendering her temporarily incomprehensive. By the time she began to regain focus the woman was already standing over her, gun in hand, smiling menacingly. “I assume we have a deal”.

The small carry-on bag containing $50,000 rested safely in the overhead storage compartment, but that was the last thing racing through Erica’s main at the moment. Though she had nearly an eight hour advantage on Charles, she knew that eventually he would find her. She was prey and he would hunt her down as such, and when he found her… The plane hit a patch of turbulence sending Erica’s heart nearly pounding out of her chest. The passengers gasped and shrieked unanimously, clutching at their seatbelts and panic stricken children. Nearly as soon as the chaos began the captains voice flooded the intercom system: “This is your captain speaking. We are experiencing some slight turbulence at the moment; please make sure that your tray tables are in their upright and locked positions and that your seatbelts are firmly secure. We are due to arrive at our Cincinnati destination in exactly three hours where we will have the pleasure of witnessing the assassination of Erica Janice. Please enjoy your flight and thank you for choosing United Airways“. Erica’s piercing screams flooded the massive section of the plane as she awoke shuddering violently from the horrific dream. Her veins felt icy with fear as hundreds of terrified eyes stared at her. Concerned, a stewardess rushed to her side. “Are you alright ma’am?” Erica was anything but, alright but there was children aboard who’s faces showed sheer terror. She had to remain calm… or at least appear to be. “yes, I’m fine. Just a bad dream”. She flashed a comforting smile to the little girl across the isle from her. She smiled back and went back to the adventure of her Little Mermaid coloring book. “May I suggest watching a movie for the duration of the flight?” The stewardess gave a slight nod in the direction of the little girl Erica had just smiled at. She got the message. The woman didn’t want the possibility of any more panic aboard the flight. “That would be lovely. Thank you”. Erica replied and with that the stewardess was off to retrieve a pair of headphones, leaving her to her haunting thought. Charles was going to be after her and if she wanted to stay alive she needed a plan and when the plane landed three hours later in Cincinnati, Ohio, she had one.

Chapter 1

The phone rang for at least 30 seconds of the homicide department of the precinct before Sergeant Meadow decided to temporarily part with his simple lunch of a bagel with cream cheese and sun chips. “Homicide department, Sergeant Meadow speaking, How may I help you?”
“Hi, I need to speak with your lead detective immediately please”.
“Well I’m sorry ma’am you have to speak with an officer in regards to any emergency situations prior to accessing our detectives Is it an emergency ma’am?”
“Yes… Well no, I mean kinda. I may have information on the whereabouts of a hit man”.
“And how did you acquire this information?”
“Well, he was kinda my boyfriend”.
“Please hold”. The elevator music flooded the receiver momentarily before a more comforting voice came on.
“This is detective Ohlmstead, how may I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Erica Janice. I ma have information on a possible murder suspect but I will only discuss this matter in person. Is there anywhere we can meet aside from the precinct?”
“Well I have to be completely honest with you Ms. Janice, I am a very busy man, and as of now you haven’t really presented me with any evidence supporting your claim and without that I’m afraid that quite frankly meeting with you would just be a waste of both our times. So is there anything that you can tell me right now that would persuade me otherwise?” She froze for a second searching for something she could say without revealing too much information.
“Ma’am?” Finally it dawned on her.
“There was a Polaroid picture in his wallet of a young blonde girl, maybe 17 or so, she appeared to be dead. The corpse was missing the left areola”. The scene hit Detective Ohlmstead like a punch in the stomach. The once beautiful , ambitious, spirited young woman now laid clod and lifeless on the wet planks of the Brook Arbor Deck. ‘Who would do something so atrocious to such a beautiful girl?’ It had to be a sick demented bastard, and judging b the precision he displayed removing the nipple, he was either a surgeon or simply a very experienced killer with a sick and twisted fetish. Whatever the case Detective Ohlmstead vowed that he would do anything in his power to prevent this from happening again. He let the woman’s words roll over in his mind: “The corpse was missing the left areola”… He knew that the newspapers weren’t even aware of that evidence so this woman had to be genuine. Now what her motives were had become the real question. She was either a close acquaintance of the killer and now for whatever feared for her life, or she was setting him up to be killed b the killer. But he was an highly trained expert in detecting stress patterns in voice patterns, but she was clean. If she was going to kill him or have him killed no matter how experienced or skilled she was, her voice would still betray her. He decided to take the chance. “Name the place”.
“The Motel 6 off highway 63 next to the truck stop, room 304, 1 o’clock, come alone”.
“Ms. Janice I just want to thank you for your…” CLICK. The line went dead.

Two hours later he found himself sitting across from one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He was completely entranced by her elegance, and her charisma only made him want her more. She was downright stunning, but he had a job to do and distractions were a resentment in his line of work.
He listened to her intently, analyzing every detail, questioning her from every angle. He was all over this woman but her story held firm. What worried him the most was the fact that the man she’d described to him not only possessed the traits of a killer but also the persona of someone in the advanced stages of schizophrenia. And if he were indeed after her like she’d expected, then he most certainly wouldn’t stop until this woman was dead. She was a prize that most normal men would have a hard time losing let alone a crazed schizophrenic killer. He had to work fast. He would not let this woman become another Brook Arbor slaying. He would start with the cabin home, but first he would have to convince is chief to give him a search warrant which would be no easy task considering he had no physical evidence to support his claim. For all the chief knew this woman could be the killer herself, masquerading as the victim while planting phony evidence innocent people. If that were the case she would be viewed as the prime suspect and taken into custody immediately, but he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He knew this woman was innocent and he couldn’t run the risk of having her convicted for a crime she hadn’t committed. She was scared and alone, and she needed his help. And he would help her even if it meant deceiving the precinct and continuing without the chiefs consent.

As time went on she seemed to appear more and more as the prime suspect. The cabin home that she mentioned proved to be a complete dead end. It appeared to had been uninhabited for quite some time, and on top of that, from what he could see, there wasn’t anything supporting the claim that any woman had ever resided there. Aside from a fine layer of dust the place was clean. No pictures, no guns, no case. The evidence was building substantially against the woman, but there was something in his heart that knew she was innocent which only made him more afraid for her life. Whoever cleaned up that cabin knew exactly what they had to get rid of, which also meant that they knew that this woman would eventually turn on them. This man was a professional and he wouldn’t stop until he had his mark
A couple weeks later his fears were confirmed. Bodies of young women tortured, strangled, and sodomized, flooded the papers and news everywhere in a 100 mile radius, turning up everywhere from manholes to riverbanks. Reporters flocked the precinct entrances, questioning anyone willing to answer. Cameras flashed like strobe lights as they waded through the sea of reporters. All the questions were the same: “Do you believe the killer is trying to make a statement?” “Do you currently have any leads or suspects?” “Have you noticed that the victims share the same hair color, eye color, and age?…” He had noticed, and every since he’d figured it out his sleep patterns had become nearly nonexistent . The shock wasn’t the fact that all the victims shared the same traits, but the fact that they all shared Erica’s traits. Though no killings had actually been committed in Cincinnati, they were definitely close enough to start worrying. And he did.

It had been nearly 8 months since he’d taken the case. His motives hadn’t changed and his drive remained steady as did the killers. It took him only 2 weeks to figure out the killers pattern. He would kill 3 girls ever 3 days, all resembling Erica in appearance. This only further proved the detectives theory. The killer was trying to send a message to Erica. She was 33 years old and when the body count reached 33 they came to a complete halt. Ohlmstead knew this was anything but coincidence, but that was the least of his worries considering the last victim was found right there in Cincinnati, Ohio…
TBC