The story starts with a few characters that I came up with. The main character is Duke, and the other characters are Graciela A.k.a Garri and Cecilia their mother. In the next few chapters I start to introduce the characters from 1-800-Where-R-You!. Be gentle this is my first story.
The past is in Bold and Italic. The present is normal.
Just a Reminder: This all fiction. It all just popped in my head one day.
Killer Dad!!
Pro-loge
Walking home from the park one afternoon, I knew someone was following me. I had that creepy feeling, when you know someone is watching you intensely. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention and you get goose bumps all up your arms. I stopped and turned to take a look , the car stopped and idled in the corner. I just stood their transfixed, having a staring contest with tented windows until the glass slowly rolled down. What I saw was the sight I least of all wanted to see. My father, sat there with the ugliest devil-may-care grin. I was at first horrified, then snapping back to my senses I ran like the devil was after me, which in the case of my father, he may well be the devil himself.
In the past my family and I have continually had to run and go into hiding, we knew that if my father found us he would kill us. About four years ago we were all a happy family, I was so consumed with sports and my own greatness that I hardly paid attention to anything else in my life. Then one day I went home after practice, nobody was home except me. So I went to the garage to work out. I was looking for some dumbbells when I was sidetracked by a shoe box that I had accidentally pushed off the top shelf. When I bent to pick up the contents of the box, I happened to look and notice what I was picking up. They were pictures, not just any pictures but printed canvases of horror. The first picture I saw was of a red-headed woman's face, she looked strangely familiar. The second picture was of the same women but in this one she was with a balding dark-haired middle-aged man. The other pictures were a repetition of the first two pictures,but with different women and men in their twenties or thirties, who were all somehow familiar. The reason the pictures were all so horrifying, is because there were close up of lifeless eyes. They were all dead. Then with something akin to a gut punch I suddenly knew where it is that I had seen all these people. The police had been investigating a number of murders for the past year. They said they were hesitant to say it was a serial killer but that is what it was looking like . My father would bring home different sets of newspaper every week. He reveled in the investigation, saying unflattering things about the polices' incompetence.
That day I remembered all those shows on A&E about serial killers. They were the next door neighbor who had appeared to be a normal person, a loving husband, an indulgent and involved father who helped coach the local little league team. But who behind closed doors, behind the backs of his wonderfully normal family, loved to kill innocent people. The one everyone said would never do such a horrendous thing. Yet, here was my father, my hero the one who taught me how to play the sports I love so much. I knew I had to get out of there, I had to show my mom the pictures. I had to get her and my sister away from him . I didn't know what he would do if he found out I knew. So I put the stash of pictures back where I found them and headed to my room to lay on my bed and think up a plan.