Le Cerveau

"Another body has been found early this morning near the old creek trails. The victim, Cindy Morts, was on her way home from her weekly study group at this very library," the blond reporter gestured to a small brick building behind her, " When she was attacked; viciously beaten to death, and left behind with no clues or information on who has killed her or why. This is a very sad loss; Cindy was very kind to everyone in the community. Back to you at the studio Dan."

"We send our regards to Cindy's friends and family and urge our viewers to call the number below or the local police station if you have any information on this mysterious case." The television went black and I sighed, tossing the remote onto the couch. What was this world coming to? Cindy Morts was the third in this oddly misplaced murder spree.

And to think, I'd known Cindy for years and had seen her earlier that day! She had come into the grocery store that I worked at and chatted with me before going to her World Religion study group at the old Jefferson Library.

A buzzing from the kitchen led my into the cherry wallpapered room to take the casserole I had baked for the Morts' out of the oven. On the counter beside the stove sat prescription meds I was sure I had never seen before. Picking them up, I saw the bottle was empty and the drug was a simple sleeping pill. Okay, I thought, that's odd. I turned around and a wave of nausea rocked through me. My vision became hazy until it was completely foggy. I fought to remain conscious and my head began to pound as if someone were knocking it with a hammer. Suddenly, I blinked and was surrounded by a forest. It was dark but the full moon shone through the great oaks and huge furs, shedding a pale eerie light on my woodland surroundings. I blinked again and was on the edge of the familiar old creek trail path. Sitting on the bench was a shadowy male figure. The thick shrubbery above him limited my vision to his dark outline.

" You did it. I saw you do it." His deep voice resounded in my very bones, causing me to shudder.

Yet again I made the mistake of blinking and my throbbing head lessened its pain. My vision snapped into focus and I found myself back in the kitchen with the casserole still in the oven and a rather unpleasant aroma alerted me to the fact that the green bean casserole was slightly beginning to burn. I rushed it out of the oven, set foil over it, grabbed the sympathy card and ran out the door into my car, trying to escape the comprehension that my daydream- or rather nightmare- might bring.

"Thank you so much Lacey, I'm sure the casserole will be wonderful with that ham Mrs. Hyde sent over."

"If you ever need anything Brenda, please don't hesitate to call."

"Bless your soul Lacey. Cindy always did like you, and I think I can see why." Mrs. Morts' teary face smiled at me and walked me to the door.

Once I was in my car, I stole one last glance at Mrs. Morts to see her sobbing as she shut her red door. The town whizzed by as my mind wandered to the night of the murders. The first to be killed had been Timothy Tues. Tim had worked with me for three years and had become my friend. He had been talking to me about how he couldn't wait for after his shift on Friday because he was going to propose to his steady girlfriend Michelle. That night, he had been assigned to close up, but it conflicted with is dinner plans so I offered to do it for him. He never made it to his car. I can still remember the amount of blood that had gushed out of the wound at his temple and how his blank, lifeless eyes had accused me when I had found him.

And then there had been Catinka. She died exactly a week after Tim had, and her body was found, with her head completely severed off and her eyes rolled back into her skull. She had always been a priss, but I can't say she deserved it. I remember how, several hours before her cold lifeless form was found, we had been greeting each other at the movie theatres. She had laughed and called me a chicken at the fact that I was going to see a rated G movie, where she was getting tickets to the newest chiller. Isn't ironic how she died? I mean she was the one calling me the chicken, where she had received the same death the poultry got.

Now there is Cindy. Who is could be so sick to kill innocents like this? Do they think it's a game? Why is this happening here of all places? Our town was outside of a major city, but still… Pulling out of my little revive, I realized that I was now outside of the cemetery. I hopped out, not really knowing where I was going or what I was doing. For what seemed like hours, I wandered around the plots, looking at the dates, until I reached the freshest one: Timothy. Catinka's funeral wasn't until tomorrow, and I'm sure Cindy's parents aren't ready to face those kinds of decisions yet.

The dirt was still fresh, and so were the flowers that had been laid down next to the headstone with care.

"Funny thing death is sometimes." A voice behind me said accusingly, "Not until death happens can you realize the certain qualities that have been hiding, burrowing themselves deep underneath the flesh."

I spun around, but saw no one. I was positive I had heard that voice before, but my mind was too jumbled up to take note of where. The first rational explanation I had was that it was a ghost, which caused me to look over my shoulder uneasily, as if I would see the spirit of some vengeful person, ready to kill me.

"Run, run as fast as you can, I'll always catch you, you know I can…" a whisper on the wind flowed through me and rustled my hair and sent goose bumps to race up my spine. And I did run, I sprinted all the way back to the car, ignoring the angry whispers that rushed after me.

That night, I hadn't had any more odd experiences, but the next morning when I accidentally cut my finger while slicing an apple, the thick crimson liquid seeped into the paper towel I'd covered it with, my head began to spin and my vision was going foggy again.

"You can't win. You won't win. I'll make sure you get what you deserve Lacey, sooner rather than later." That same voice taunted me. I was back on the old creek trail, and this time the man was standing, but I still could only make out his pitch-black silhouette.

"What do you mean?" I asked, angry that whatever this was wouldn't leave me alone and kept on threatening me for something I hadn't any idea what he was talking about.

"Don't play dumb with me. You know what you've done and I know what you deserve." I could hear the smile in his voice, even from where I stood at least a yard away.

"No, actually I don't, so stop accusing me of something I haven't even done!" My head felt as if someone was driving a knife straight through my temple. I groaned and brought my bloody hand up to grasp the source of the pain to make sure it wasn't splitting into a thousand bitty pieces like as felt it was.

"I'm not buying it. Drop the act Lacey and maybe we can rationalize the consequences." He took a step towards me.

For some reason, I found this funny, but I wasn't laughing. Something else was, but I was the one making the sound. I could feel that something crawling up to the surface, desperate to get some air. It growled hungrily inside of me and fought to tear itself to the surface.

"I don't know what you mean…" I gasped. The monster that lay dormant inside of me fought my conscience for control, nearly splitting my head in two. I cried out in pain and fell to my knees.

"Lacey? Are you all right?" the now concerned man asked and took a few cautious steps forward. The monster roared in my ears, drowning out everything else. It was winning. I could already feel the rush as my victim screamed and begged.

"Perfectly…" my voice was distorted, almost a growl.

"Are you sure? You don't look quite right."

"I'm feeling better than ever. How about you? How do you feel?" I rose to my feet and glanced at him, wondering how fast his reflexes were.

"Let's talk about those mysteries the police have been struggling with."

"Hmmm…" I licked off the few crimson rubies that were decorating my forearm affectionately.

"Timothy was your friend, how could you do that to him?" his voice was dripping with disgust.

"It was quite easy. He never even turned around." I started circling my prey.

"And Catinka?" he followed me, not trusting me at his back. With good reason too.

"She was rude. No one ever did like her much. She was even easier than Tim. She screamed too." I kept circling him, waiting for an opening.

"Cindy?" that stopped me cold.

"That was a mistake. She wasn't supposed to die…"

"Then why?" he took a step backward, exciting me even more. He was going to put up a nice fight. Tom didn't even see me coming; Catinka was just loud and clumsy; and Cindy ran for a little while. This one should be fun.

"Because she was there when the monster came." I answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"So you killed her." He took another step back. I had to fight for control again. Can't go for it now, he'd just get away. Have to wait.

"Yes. Killed her parents too. Funny thing death is, it makes everyone turn into a sobbing mess. The Mortses were pathetic. I've put them out of their misery. Like I did with Tim. He was too mushy with his precious Michelle. She wasn't even going to show up for dinner, I made sure of that…he would have been devastated. I did him a favor." A sadistic grin spread across my face, turning my normally innocent features into a demonic scream-worthy mask of madness.

"How did you kill the Mortses?" he was a curious little bugger, wasn't he? It was cute, really. Now he got to hear my motives before he died like the rest of them. He shouldn't have been following me.

"Let's just say they went to sleep. Don't worry," I assured him " I made sure it didn't hurt them at all. They were in pain already and I simply just helped ease it because I'm just so kind. Now they won't be feeling much of anything anymore." I stepped towards him again. In the shrubbery next to us, a rabbit hopped across the path, finally giving me the opportunity I had been waiting for, that one moment of weakness. He made the mistake of looking over his shoulder at the rabbit, but by the time he had turned back around, I already had the knife I'd used to cut the apples permanently implanted into his heart.

He let out a garbled cry as blood poured out from his chest like a burgundy fountain, spurting its rust smelling fluid all over me and drenching the gravel trail.

"You, you just annoy me." I spat and I loosened my grip on the knife as he fell to his knees and then to the ground after spitting out a stream of blood and making one last attempt of screaming. I was wrong; this man was almost as easy as Tim. Oh well, next victim…