Notes from An Alien

~ Explorations In Writing { and reading and publishing } ~

Friday Story Bazaar ~ Tale Twenty

Who Is The Victim?

Alexander M Zoltai


The moon was dirty dancing with the clouds.

James Whitlock was cruising the main drag looking for a victim.

He was mad—had been since Thursday—mad enough now to punish someone.

Everybody was guilty—they all deserved to be punished.

He really wished he’d get mad enough more often.

A young girl was just rounding the corner.

He turned to walk ahead of her in the same direction; but, a bit slower so she could catch up…


The headline said:

Thirteen-year-old Mauled then Raped to Death
Witness Shot, Condition Poor


Peter Wilson had been the witness—in critical condition for three days—alive enough to tell his story about Melissa Monseur’s brutal beating and fatal raping; but, he couldn’t identify the man, except for approximate height and weight—the light had been behind them and Peter had watched it all in silhouette.

He hung on to life for two more days…


James Whitlock read the newspaper story with great satisfaction—he’d been right about where he shot that boy, made him a witness—what a bonus for his sense of righteousness. And, people would be really freaking out, so the next killing had to be even more shocking.

He’d learned to kill in the Army.

Learned to hate other people from a young age.

Couldn’t remember his childhood.

He’d been planning his recent killing mission for four years.

Never the same place—not even close—each a year apart…

He was eager but well-disciplined—waited for the right victim (wished he could get mad enough more often so he could punish more people; but, would not change the plan)—delivered the right punishment…


The headline said:

82-year-old Robbed and Beaten to Death

Millie North’s neighbors could not believe it—the investigating officer was so sickened he took emergency leave—the small town mourned for months…

James Whitlock enforced his discipline but didn’t think they were paying him enough attention so he took particularly strong action—made sure enough people were punished.

The headline said:

65 Fatally Shot at One-Year-Anniversary Remembrance Event for Millie North


He’d evaded every pursuer except the one who found him during one of his very normal fishing trips.

The headline said:

Serial Killer Finally Captured
Lead Detective Honored


He’d been in prison for a year of his life sentence when he found the right moment…

The headline said:

Two Inmates Killed at State Penitentiary
Guards Unable to Identify Killer


He had disabled the cameras…

His cell mate said:

“I can’t turn ya in ’cause I can’t prove ya did it; but I can warn ya—“

“Warn?! Hell you say!”

“I can warn ya that God ain’t lookin’ kindly on ya…”

James laughed and spit on the little man.

Years past and his cell mate would occasionally warn him…

He killed no one else.

He began to stay in his cell even when offered recreation time.

His mind was in turmoil…

He couldn’t shut down the thoughts.

You’ll burn in Hell—you aren’t important…

I am!

You’ll be burned alive and not die…

I’m not sorry—they deserved to be punished!

You’ll suffer more than you can bear—much will be revealed about how small you are…

He would mumble to himself, urinate in his pants, and refuse to eat.

You should die a slow death.

No! ……… I should die, yes…

You never should have been born.

I’m tired of living…

Over many more months, the voice kept up its indictments:

You’re slime and excrement…

I’m slime and excrement…

You’re not worth keeping alive…

I’m not………

Finally, the headline said:

Prisoner Disembowels Himself
Dies Screaming, “I don’t want to be punished; but, I have to die!”


Read More Story Bazaar Tales

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