The Lanchester Case: Prologue
#1 of The Lanchester Case
(Wanted to write this up a bit to give you guys a taste for the gruesome story to come. Trust me, I'm really getting into this guys head. heads up, this is graphic, and violent, so 18+ please. I'm rating it Adult instead of Extreme because there's not really any fetishes or sex involved with the violence, and I've seen worse stuff rated Adult instead of Extreme.)
With a tsk of the tongue off the roof of his mouth, he slid the dead mans arm into a better position.
He wiped the last tiny speck of blood from his knife blade. The masked man took a step back to examine his handywork.
On the floor before him lay the family that had lived in the house. The little vixen girl he'd laid in a fashion to suggest she was skipping rope. Indeed earlier that day he'd watched her playfully hopping down the street with the orange colored plastic cord snapping the ground beneath her feet. She held the qualities of shining youth about her, and every bit of her screamed of energy, of playfulness and childhood. As she was outside the house, he'd followed her in his vehicle until he was sure no-one saw him, then swept her up with a sack, into the trunk, and the rest was obvious. The house was one far from the rest of the town, and so he was away from prying eyes and ears. He carved the word 'JoYfreE' crudely on the hardwood floor with his knife.
The son, whom more resembled his father, had the sturdy build of a wolf, but a feminine element about him. His dark black fur had been matted to his head and neck with blood, as the knife had entered his eye socket. He'd caught the boy as he entered the home with the dead girl. He'd looked surprised for a moment, but only until the knife had flashed into his eye socket. He fell with only a slight noise. He was arranged to appear as if in meditation. The word "EnlIgHTenMEnt' appeared carved beneath his feet.
The mother had been next. She was an attractive vixen, a very attractive one. She'd been arranging some flowers in the hallway when she turned the corner after hearing the noise to witness her sons stabbing. She began to scream as the masked man turned to her, dropping another body which she realized was her daughters. However her scream did not last long. The knife came onward, as if fueled by the blood, and found its mark in her chest. There it merged once, twice, thrice, but still she screamed. He was annoyed. He wanted it to stop. In order to silence her scream, with a cold, almost mechanical demeanor, he reached up and gripped her throat with one hand, using the other to quickly and efficiently snap her neck from behind. He laid her out with the flowers she'd been placing, and carved "SerEniTY' beneath her resting place.
The father had been the interesting one. He was a large wolf, pitch black just like his son, a retired boxer known around the small town. A bit of a celebrity mascot for the little town of Lanchester. He'd been tending the fire when he heard the scream his wife had given. losing no time at all in taking with him the fire poker, he'd rounded the corner and come face to face with the masked killer before him, surrounded by the three dead members of his family. Numb shock set in as the killer stared at him. "You..." The father couldn't muster any more words.
The killer had laughed. "Me. Me me me. Why me? Why not you? It is you, after all, whom is me. And I am you. We are all me, and all of us are you. This is why it hurts me to do this to them... And to you." The father had snapped out of his momentary numb state of shock and raised the fire poker, letting loose a massive yell and aiming a blow at the head of the killer. Of course the masked man had ducked, bringing the knife into both hands as he aimed it directly beneath the fathers ribcage. The knife slid in almost with ease, parting the flesh and organs as it found its mark. The man gave a grunt, a dull sort of noise, and fell over as the knife retreated from his abdomen, as if his life was drawn out of his body with the knife. He'd been set in a pose not unlike that of the Thinker, looking reflective before the fire he'd started. The word "HarMonY" was the one etched in the wood beneath him.
This family scene of morbid proportions was to his liking. He spent the rest of the evening looking to cleaning up the scene. He'd thoroughly wrapped his entire body with every material he could to prevent as much DNA evidence as possible. He made sure to keep the knife with him, and hide any sign outside that something may be amiss, such as the abandoned jump rope. He moved the car around to the woods behind the house and parked it at least a mile away, then walked back to the home. His work done, he examined the interior scene once more, then left the house. As he approached his vehicle, he whistled the tune of Three Blind mice. The sun set just behind the house as he drove away, taking a back road.
The beams of light that passed through the thinning leaves played through the dust kicked up by his vehicle.