URBAN RENEWAL IS NOW AVAILABLE ON AUDIO: https://www.amazon.com/Urban-Renewal/dp/B074N9F8PT
If you’ve read Cellar Door, this is his brother’s story.
Beautiful Readers, you’ve got to go and listen to this creepy, dark, sample on this audio book–so much serial killing craziness. This is one dark audio book. I think I outdid myself on the amount of crazy this audio book contains.
“Eeeny, meenie, minie, moe, who will be the first to go?” I whisper the words into the silence, my sing-song lilt wobbling slightly as I sweep the knife wildly through the air toward the two women cowering there on the floor. The knifepoint arcs back and forth, from one to the other and back again, with each word of my rhyme. Poke, poke, poke — just enough to penetrate the skin and draw a bit of blood, over and over and over.
I step back and tilt my head to the side, admiring the crimson mosaic I’ve created. It’s nothing short of glorious.
“Maybe it’s you…Boo!” I laugh as the first one jumps as far back as her restraints will allow, her glossy black hair swinging wildly around her shoulders. Tears roll down her face into the fabric I’ve shoved in her mouth and tied at the back of her head. Bandanas work quite nicely. I love the way the pleading sounds when they’re gagged. With no words, their eyes become so expressive. Funny how a woman is still capable of begging when she can’t utter a word. More so, really.
I go back and forth between their two nude bodies, poking and probing at their skin with the tip of my knife, taunting them with jabs to the chest just sharp enough to draw more blood. I pout dramatically, slowly shaking my head as I resume my rhyme, “I can’t let you go, no, not today, I’m not finished with my game, I still want to play.”
The second woman squeezes her chocolatey brown eyes shut, sobbing in defeat before glancing over at her companion. She seems desperate for some shred of hope against the inevitable. I do hope she doesn’t lose her will to survive—it’s no fun when they don’t fight.
“Not yet, not yet, you can’t go free, your freedom comes when I have three.”
There’s that spark of hope again. Stupid girl doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand that I have to kill three so they’ll take me seriously. I stab the knife into the workbench, far enough away from where they’re tied that they won’t be able to get their grubby little fingers on it. They’ll still look at it while I’m gone, probably strain against the ropes. They’ll try to figure out a way to grab it in hopes of cutting the ropes to free themselves – but it won’t work, just won’t work. So close and yet so far. I’m almost sorry to miss it, truly. But the night is young and there is much to be done. With my quarry secured for the night, I can focus my attention on the matter at hand.
“Now, don’t go getting into any trouble while I’m gone, ladies,” I chuckle as I turn toward the door. I grab the hoodie hanging on the back of the door and slip it on, zip it up and pull the hood low over my face as I head out. With my features obscured like this, someone could be forgiven for thinking I’m just some schmuck walking the streets of Louisville, the kind of guy no one takes notice of until it’s too late.
But I’m not just anyone. Fuck that.
The cool air of early fall feels good as it bites at my senses, making me hyperaware of my surroundings even as my nondescript clothing keeps me invisible – irrelevant, even — to any passersby. It’s not like I’m dealing with upstanding members of society here—not once the sun goes down. As darkness falls, the city streets become a playground of debauchery and degradation, the perfect place for a predator on the hunt. Like me.
© 2017 Suzanne Steele