There it was at last, the third call. FBI Agents Richard Harold and Earnest Daily had been waiting nearly two months for this unfortunate call. A chilling voice came on the phone. The voice was muffled and seemed almost as if it had come from Darth Vator himself. Since agent Harold had picked up the office phone, agent Daily automatically began in tracing the call using his cell phone. However, the voice was only there briefly to leave a clue as he always did when he has stricken his next victim. “The church hill killer has struck again” then the telephones dial tone came to its normal screeching halt. Each scene had been just as gruesome as the next, so the agents were well prepared for this next gruesome scene; or so they thought. The “Church Hill killer” as he named himself according to his third phone call which was always directly to the offices of Agents Harold and Daily. This was strange since typically mysterious calls such as these leading to a murder even if suspected to be real were directed to other precincts with officers, not high ranking detectives. So far there has only been three victim’s (I say only because the way he kills, it is as if he does not have a moral or social problem with it; as if he is willing to do it again). The first victim was a white male aged mid 30’s with no way to ID him. No family had reached out even after a publicly clean photo of the man was brought about to the community. There was no pattern of normal life either, it would seem almost as though this guy did not exist in anyone’s mind; even those whom he passed by in his “usual radius of life” (which is another pattern based way of finding out who people really are). He was found with his guts quite literally spilled out on the floor at his feet. There was also an encoded message at the scene which the agents have yet to crack. However no forensic scientific evidence was found linking the victim to anything to do with any other case or anything for that matter, it was as if he did not exist. The only profile they could develop of the killer is that he is willing to attack again and that was only formulated from the information received at the 2nd crime scene and the note left at the first crime scene which had not yet been decoded. The second victim was mostly the same. Except his guts were not spilled. Rather the agents found him tethered hanging upside down with his head cut off from a pole at the Dollhouse (a local strip club). The head has still not been recovered, which also makes it difficult to ID the body. There were no direct forensic clues that this case and the previous case were connected until they found another letter with similar markings. This crime scene had also had been mysteriously called into the department of agents Harold and Daily. The first call however did not state a name. Just a location and TOD (Time of Death). Again, there were no linking clues between either of the victims and no direct profile of the killer.

This third crime scene however, was seemed to be much different than the others. The victim was a female for one, and she was found nude and beaten. However, the creepiest part was perhaps not even that she was found in this condition, rather that she was found hanging from the pew of a church on the hill of Hill road with a raw silver chain wrapped around her neck. Her body was also upside down. There was no sign of rape of the girl who appeared to be in her mid-20’s. She too was found as if she did not exist to anyone. As the lead agents (Harold and Daily) returned to the office to await the ME report. However, they were shocked when they found the phone ringing at the desk of Agent Harold, and once again; that chilling voice came on the phone. This was a change in his recent patterns. Did this mean he was becoming too confident? Or did this mean he has already killed again? Or is he just taunting the unwilling participants of agents Harold and Agents Daily to push them to their breaking point?

A frown so down,

A clock whose hands have begun to unbound.

Worn and torn, stories untold

Mind so twisted, face so wrinkled.

Wrecked is the mind, so old yet so, twisted.

Eyes are too bold, yet slightly misted.

Eyes are too flawed,

Yet a sight to be awed.

Skin too nimble, yet a sweat taste to nibble.

Bones are too nimble,

Yet not disassembled.

Heart is too old, though not yet sold.

Heart is too old, yet never burdened.

Heart is too old, yet never too faint.

Heart is too old, yet a picture to paint.

I am a wall. I am always here, even when you think I am not. I have heard your screams through your tantrum years. I remember one when screamed because you could not have your favorite toy. I felt you thrash against my surface as you kicked me, and I bent down to cuddle you and keep you safe in midst of night when you were scared or lonely and decided to lean against my side. I wanted to dry your tears though my hands were rather nonexistent. Though I had no hands, you melted my soul and gave me warmth. My attraction is quite simple really. You are mine and I am yours. I will always protect you even when I can no longer shield you from a child's last night mere. As you grow old you may even still curl up against my sides when you have no one else to turn to and I will be here, though much older and less sturdy, I will always be here. I have always listened, and I always will. I have heard your darkest secrets, and heard your ear piercing cries. I have seen you joyful, I have seen you sad. I have heard your mumble, though you thought no one could, I was there to listen. I have felt your thrashing and sensed when you were not content with life. I have heard your soul weep though no one else could imagine. I have whispered in your ear that I love you and I have whispered confidence and purity of a child's heart. I have heard you laugh and I have heard your cry. I know the world has no mercy for you, but I will shield you as long as I can. I will always listen when no one else will. I will always be here, and I will always hear your feelings though you try to hide them well. I will always know. For I am your walls and you my house. A house cannot live without its walls, and a house can only been taken down one wall at a time. Sometimes you must listen to me, and sometimes I must listen to you. You are the only one who can tell me when it is time to stop shielding you from world’s worst nightmares and allow you to enjoy the simple things of life and to allow you to trust in others as you love others. You must learn to enjoy life despite all the disappointment. I cannot always be there, unless you want me to be there. I will always listen.

Prose is like a delicate

Rose, it is filled with those in seek of

Osseous and

So it is; filled with those in seek of

Excellence and fullness.

Prose, it’s like a,

Rose, it’s filled as an

Osseous waiting for; precocious writer. 

Easily it has excellent potential. Some seeking vengeful reputation, others seeking a restful innovation.

Ones greatest demise is the demon which resides.

Ones soul is determined by the demons of thy.

Ones heart is determined by the demons that lie.

Ones mind is determined by the demons that fly.

Slick as a cat, dressed in black he slipped through the crowd like a rat through a crack. His hair was a gorgeous black, and seemed soft as silk. He wore an expensive tuxedo which was meant to be marveled at as he waltzed through the ball room floor just like any other prince or noble in the kingdom. No one could sense any hesitation in his proper behavior though for him it was uncommon behavior. The music was blaring, the brightness of the several chandeliers were blinding. He could feel his senses being over whelmed, but he would not let this stop him from gaining his reward. The woman he was with was not his accomplice though fitting for her part in his game. She wore a magnificent red dress which glistened in comparison to others around them. Minuscule round black beads enclosed her chest and in continued down her emaciated leg on the left side. While he was not truly interested in his partners fitting appearance, he played the part indulgently as he gently let his hand slip farther down her leg nearly under the purposeful slit in the side of her dress. She comfortably let her hand slip to his as well, though her performance of affection seemed much more convincing than his as they waltzed wondrously through the ball room gaining the attention of all as all had seemed to stop in sight of them if even just for a minute. His eyes began to lose sight of his goal as they began to sparkle in light of what could become love while he let his eyes stoop to her eyes. The song had ended and that was his cue, He suddenly remembered his goal as he kissed the woman he barely knew on the cheek and slipped into the depths of the large crowd. He casually slipped to the side as if to receive a drink; he only did this because he could somehow sense that he was being followed. Holding his glass of red wine (his usual treat) he glanced around only to notice that everyone was acting just as he was acting. So, he confidently decided to continue up the treads to the balcony where he was entitled to a meeting with a very important piece in his game. He was to meet a man nick named the Prince of Harden. To his surprise, he saw a women waiting for him on the balcony. However unexpected, he continued up the balcony “Perhaps she is his messenger” he thought to himself. He laughed aloud as he began to realize who his mysterious partner was. “It cannot be you!” he exclaimed. His English accent was harsh, but romantic in a way. “And why is that?” The woman inquired. “Are you the messenger then?” “Why would the enchantress need to send a messenger?” Surprised and quit startled he reached into his jacket pocket in search of the calling card which was slipped there days earlier. There were no words, only a picture; a picture of a witch on the balcony of a ball room dance floor. This picture had changed from its previous state of address which was that of the ball room, but with a picture of a mystery man and that man’s initials. “Why did you tell me to meet the Prince then?” There was a crack of fear in his voice. The enchantress was worth the fear of any man or woman. No one has successfully gotten away from the grasp of the enchantresses murderous hands. “If I did tell you of whom you were meeting, would you have come?” He didn’t respond, so she continued. It was in this way that the game had changed. “What is your name?” Her voice now boomed. He let his eyes wonder to the ball room floor only to see that no one was there. In fact, there wasn’t a ball room floor to speak of. They were in a castle now, one to be feared. The walls were a dark grey and felt as if they were caving in on you. She stopped him in his thought, “Your name?” She demanded again. “My…my…my name is Hector.” He stuttered in fear and she smiled cunningly. His goal was to meet the Prince of Harden and black mail him for more money with the diamonds he was going to sell to him. It was supposed to be a simple game as he had always thought of his jobs in which case he would end up taking advantage of his customers in one way or another, now it had become a game of life or death.

“Well Hector, I have a job for you. I hear you like jobs no?” Her voice was relaxed if not high pitched in a happy sense. Ironically, it was that which scared him the most. He didn’t respond; of course even if he could form the words, he wouldn’t know which ones to form.

Mermaids yelp and flock.

If you wish to hear their grossing sound,

You shan’t count them from the grounds.

For if you wish to hear their bello,

it

Shall only be from below the sea.

Mermaids Yelp and Flock.

They call a creepy call.

As our men shall come across an evil sprawl.

Its pool rips us across a wide spread shore.

For they were there and never more.

Mermaids Yelp and Flock.

Their evil home shall everlastingly be.

Their evil hearts will take as they please.

For they were there, and never more.

Mermaids Yelp and Flock.

Their beauty blinds the men of mine.

Their voices screech as they crawl aboard.

They sense fear and they devour hope.

For they were there, and never more were they.

Mermaids yelp and Flock.

Those who shall dare wander whilst the night light’s bright;

You are warned of a dark and outcast night.

For there you will be there, and never more will be you.

The Lord of the Flies,

How their imagination reaches the skies!

By the Lord of the Flies,

A monster which resides.

The Lord of the Flies,

How their imagination reaches the skies!

By the Lord of the Flies,

A boy that dies.

The Lord of the Flies,

How their imagination reaches the skies!

By the Lord of the Flies,

A fire which touches the skies.

The Lord of the Flies,

How their imagination reaches the skies!

By the Lord of the Flies,

The hope that dies.

The Lord of the Flies,

How their imagination reaches the skies!

By the Lord of the Flies,

The island which collides.

The Lord of the Flies,

How their imagination reaches the skies!