Hi, this story switches between the POV of the murderer (Indicated by an M), the victims, some stray characters and third-person. Investigative work by the Bones team is narrated in third person. I apologize if it gets confusing, do let me know if what i write starts to become nonsense. (though i hope it won't be.)

It's my first fan-fiction, please review and help me along this journey! anything and everything is welcome. I'll love to hear what you guys want to read too! I'm still learning, and I really hope you'll enjoy this little work of mine :D

"People can tell you to keep your mouth shut, but that doesn't stop you from having your own opinion."
― Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl


[M's debut]

It's a beautiful morning. It's not a special morning, the sun's rays only peer around thick clouds that threaten rain. It may hold no particularly memorial event, or historical significance, but still a beautiful morning nonetheless.

It's dawn, and the sky has just tugged off the dreary covers of night. The air feels heavy with moisture and cold; The birds have not dared to disturb the silence yet. I sit at the playground and draw a lungful. My shirt and jeans hang limp with damp. The metal beneath my feet is spared the fat dew drops that have gathered throughout the night. Everything is covered in a thin blue wash; then brightly in high saturated colors the next moment as the sun overcomes the weariness of night. I lie back on the pleasantly moist plastic slide and watch the sun proudly announce the new day.

Suddenly the fragile silence is broken by all sorts of noises at once: the birds, a car honking, gravel crunching under shoes, traffic hum, random chatter. the surrealism of the moment passes. I close my eyes and let the familiarity envelope me. I focus, tune the noise out, breathe slowly and deeply again. the smells are gone, everything fades, until I'm finally at peace within me.

The emptiness is soothing, calming. It speaks of constants I can control, constants that control our humanity, and how it easy to eliminate those constants. Distractions lose their place and purpose. Everything, including breathing is devoid of meaning. I hold the small secret world for a little while longer and blissfully lose myself in the nothingness.

Then I have to open my eyes, and for a second I feel unbearably sad that that private world belongs to only one, the very definition of a lonely place.

Sighing, I open the first cardboard box I had placed under the swing set and begin arranging the scene.

Everything had to be as perfect as nature detailed it.


This is a glimpse of how M sees the world, don't worry, you'll get to know M a whole lot more as the story goes. Read, review and share, everyone!