Serial Killers: A Fictional Narrative

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Armageddon had appeared. Papers lying everywhere, photos scattered untidily along every table, cameras, microscopes, gloves and magnifying glasses shattered or torn apart. Silent and still, I stared down the hallway watching everyone work. “I couldn’t protect you Matthew,” I said. Tears trickled sluggishly from my face and everyone looked at me in disbelief. SHATTER! The glass shards from the table hit the floor. Blood was running down my knuckles, but I didn’t care, a part of my soul had perished.
NINE HOURS AGO 10:46pm
The head of CSI, Chief Tyler had entered with a case in his hands. “A body was found in an alleyway on Bexley Drive.” he said. “According to NYPD, victim had his eyes, arms and legs eviscerated with bite marks completed post-mortem.” This was a cannibalistic serial killer, I thought to myself, the worst kind. …show more content…
Snapping pictures of the body, I felt nauseous, but soon I realized who the victim was… it was my brother. I was petrified; it took all I could muster to look at the body. “NO!” I screamed in dubiety. Soon, my shirt was filled with tears.
TEN HOURS AGO 9:46pm
Shining and gleaming moonlight evaded murky darkness. Crickets raucously chirped at the quiet area as the horrendous smell of the dumpster eluded him. Rats eating off the garbage were distinctly noticeable. Matthew Topic was standing in the gloom alleyway staring down the road. He was courteous, passionate, had an IQ of 187 and was the best NCIS officer there was. Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the alleyway, “Mark?” he asked.
The figure zoomed in and eviscerated Matthew’s arm. He felt like someone was ripping his heart out. He gasped and vigorously collapsed in a pool of his own blood. “You disappoint me,” the killer said as he slashed his eyes and legs off. The killer slowly leaned down attempting to nibble his face, ears and stomach and afterwards sprinted down the road attempting to conceal his identity.
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