A forest stretched out before me, shrouded in oppressive darkness. The silence was tangible, and it felt as if the forest itself was holding its breath in anticipation. A light breeze snaked between the gnarled trunks, bringing with it the cloyingly pungent stench of carrion and decay. The smell was abrasive and stung my eyes and nostrils in its opulence. I wondered what could be the source of the stench.
With great strength of will, I turned my attention back to the task at hand. I reached for the small oil lantern strapped to my belt, unhooked it, and placed it on the ground at my feet. I pulled a box of matches free from my pocket and struck a fresh one.
A small flame of orange flared to life, wavering in the breeze that threatened to snuff it out. I quickly lit the oil lantern, and with a flick of my wrist, extinguished the match. I closed the lantern shutter and rose.
The lantern shed a small pool of light as it fought against the encroaching shadows, and I was grateful for the brief respite it provided from the gloom. I swung the lantern about and examined the surrounding area, looking for any signs of passing from the man I pursued.
My mind drifted back to the stench.
Perhaps it was his doing. He was a cold-blooded killer, after all.
A gunshot pierced the eerie night, causing me to jump in fright. I reeled around, facing the direction of the fired shot.
That had to be him.
I reached for my sidearm and pulled it free from its holster. My Colt Detective Special gleamed in the flickering lantern light. I took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart and listened intently, trying to hear any other signs of conflict. I heard none and so began making my way towards the fired shot.
The forest pressed close in some places, forcing me to squeeze between the twisted trunks, the rough bark clawing at me. A couple of minutes passed in such a fashion before I paused to catch my breath. The stench that hung in the air where I stood was overbearing, and I felt my stomach churn in discomfort.
A shuffling sound came from the clump of bushes off to my left and I spun to face it, my colt held out at the ready. The shuffling continued, and I saw the bushes shaking. I took a couple of steps back and felt what seemed like fingertips brush up against my shoulder. Terrified beyond my wits, I gasped, dropped the lantern, and whipped around, firing off a shot at whatever had touched me.
I tried my best to regain composure and grasped for the lantern on the ground and held it up.
I felt bile rise at the horror before me, and I emptied the contents of my stomach. Once I had recovered some sense of dignity, I dared another glance at the swinging form.
A young girl hung by her toes from a branch overhead. Her chest had been split open and her organs removed. Hollowed sockets where her eyes should have been stared back. Dried blood ran down her sallow face and into the hairline, where it matted the girl’s long hair. A single bullet hole pierced the centre of her forehead. Her arms hung down, ending in grimy fingernails. I could tell that she had struggled against her defiler.
I passed the unsettling scene and continued deeper into the forest. I had not gone six yards before a similar sight met me. The only difference was that it was a new victim. I knew that time was against me, so I hurried on, and again after six yards, another body confronted me. I did not know how much more I could take. My mind reeled.
Had I stumbled upon the killer’s menagerie?
The thought sickened me, but I forced my mind to view his perception of things. It felt like he was building up to something greater, his magnum opus.
Will I be the first to witness it?
After the sixth victim, I came to a stop. A mausoleum of exquisite design rose before me, its door stood slightly ajar, with light seeping through it. After extinguishing my lantern, I hooked it to my belt again. I would not need it for some time. I felt my pulse quicken. The killer was close to me. A demented grin spread across my lips at the thought of being the one to end this sadistic game of cat-and-mouse.
I ascended the flight of stone steps and, not wanting to give myself away, squeezed through the tight gap between the door and its frame. I crept forward down the stone-hewn passage and descended another flight of steps. The passage opened into a tomb.
At its centre stood a granite sarcophagus with a tombstone erected behind it. Organs of the victims decorated the floor surrounding it. Fresh blood oozed out from beneath the sarcophagus lid, trickling down onto the floor.
My knees trembled as I moved over to the tombstone. Etched upon it was my name. I stumbled back in sheer terror.
This could not be.
Memories of how I had killed and defiled the girls crashed down upon me, drowning me in my guilt. I felt strangulated. Backing up against the wall of the tomb, my hands ran over an opening. It was the mouth of a tunnel. Not being able to stand my guilt and shame any longer, I turned and ran, hurtling down the tunnel until it ended and I stepped out.
A forest stretched out before me, shrouded in oppressive darkness.
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