Some Things Never Change: A Book Dedicated to Absolutely Nothing At All

Obsessive Tendencies

Throughout the course of my life, I've run into things I honestly thought I couldn't live or function properly without. One of those things led to a dangerous place. I was sitting alone at lunch for my first day at Whittaker Elementary School. This was a couple days after my parents decided to separate for a while to sort out their differences. I was sitting at lunch after struggling through about 3 periods of bullshit. I was alone, of course, after I threatened to beat the shit out of the more popular kids. A black-haired girl walked in and sat down near me. She said hello, and I said hello, but nothing more was exchanged. I peeked out of the corner of my eye and saw she was staring at me, obviously trying to loosen some conversation out of me, but she saw my blank expression and read me as being not talkative. After lunch, she followed me outside to the recess area. I knew she was behind me, because I could smell her sweet scent from where I was standing. It was a little before Christmas, so there were huge snow banks from the plow the night before. She was perched on top of one such snow bank, watching me. I don't know how I ever knew that, just a feeling, I guess. I turned to confirm my suspicion, and she slid down and landed in front of me. I said hello again, and she blushed. She said her name was Christine, and that she too was suffering parental problems of her own, as her parents had just divorced and sent her into foster care. She started tearing up, and I told her not to cry, and that it wasn't her fault, and that these things really just happen sometimes. I moved closer and hugged her. I was nearly knocked over when she flung herself into my embrace. She began crying and I almost did, but at that point, I was done crying over my situation. I hugged her for another minute or two, then I loosened a little, and she understood that she was kind of strangling me. She let go and looked at me with her crystal blue eyes, red and puffy from weeping. She smiled a little and we immediately became friends. I hugged her a bit longer  and accidentally got a piece of her hair caught in my backpack zipper. I didn't realize it until I arrived home and went to my room. I unzipped my backpack and there it fell; a long, dark, shiny, pristine, beautiful hair that belonged to Christine. I picked it up and put it in a shoebox in my closet. As we got closer, I got more intensely obsessed with this girl. I started calling her house and talking for hours about a bunch of different things. Then, out of the blue, I lost control. I saw her getting on a bus, and followed her. She was at the head of the line getting on, and I ducked quickly into the first seat. The bus driver didn't question me, as I was at the back of the line. As the people got off, I kept looking into the overhead driver's mirror, waiting for her stop. I nearly fell asleep, until the brakes squealed  and we skidded to a halt in front of a nice, large, plain white house. She walked past me, and the driver asked where I was headed. I lied and pointed to a dirt road just up a ways. She smirked and dropped me off without question. I feigned a right turn into a strange driveway and continued onward. I found the old, condemned house that I stored my " collection" I stashed my backpack there and crept across the road, through the heard, and into the back end of the house, careful not to touch anything. I peeked through windows, working to the back of the house. I crept quietly up the back steps and sat in the darkened alcove. I kept getting this prickly feeling when I watched through the windows, until I saw a black figure in the yard behind me. It walked closer, and slinked his way, silently, to stand beside me. He nealry brushed against me when I realized he couldn't see me. He crept even quieter than I, and peered through the window. The light revealed a rugged and stern face, with thick eyebrows and a very piercing gaze, his eyes seemed to send off small shimmers of silver in his pupils. I heard him reach slowly into his coat and pull out a shiny metal object. He slid it ever so casually between the door and jamb, wiggling it around in a weird way. The door clicked and I heard a quiet grunt of contentment escape from the back of his throat. He hesitated a moment to be sure nobody would hear. And then, like a shadow, he slipped inside. I saw as he peeked into a room to his right. He grinned and went inside. A couple seconds later, the power shut down. The father yelled and went down the hall into the room. The door shut, and the power came on again. I waited a few minutes and nobody emerged from the room. Time passed slowly the more I watched. Worried, the woman I saw earlier walked down the hall, calling for Frank ( her husband) to get his ass out of there and back to bed. Nervous, I slipped away and snuck to the front door around the garage. I peeked through the mail slot, when something touched my shoulder. I heard a voice, dark, gruff, and cold say " I don't know who you are kid, or what you saw, but I want you to leave this place and never come back. The cops are coming and I don't need you to foil my plans. So I'll tell you what: Why don't you close your eyes for 20 seconds, count them out, and then run home? I won't say anything or do anything. Just don't look at me, or I will kill you. Understand?" I nodded and covered my eyes and started counting. He chuckled darkly and took off into the house, and after hearing the click of the lock, I turned and ran. I never even made it to seven.........

Newspaper Headline August 15, 1977

FAMILY FOUND BRUTALLY MURDERED!!
APPARENTLY BOUND TORTURED AND THEN BURNED!!
SERIAL KILLER STILL ON THE LOOSE!!

Looking at the quiet parish of Whitaker, a person can really scope out a nice place for living with a family. A nice school, great town, excellently managed roads, and an abundance of shops and attractions are just many things that make this town a great place to stop in and see, and even settle down. But as of this Friday, that pristine reputation will be forever tarnished by the brutal slaying of this town's most influential family, the Moore family. 33 year old Marcus Moore, 28 year old Lisa Moore, and even their foster child, 10 year old Christine Moore. The town will hold a large mass this Sunday at the town cemetery, and all have been invited to attend. In light of these events, the only beneficiaries of the contents of both parent's will are the two remaining children, Aaron and Louise, and shall receive whatever has been left for them, the company their father started will be divided up amongst others, and the amassed fortune shared by their parents will be divided as well. We of this town are shaken and very devastated by these atrocities, and they will be permanently stained on this town, a blight upon a shining promise of hope............

It wasn't until later that year that the killer was caught. I sighed in relief as they interviewed him in his cell at Stanford Island Prison For The Criminally Insane. He talked and rambled in the way only a madman could've. The only thing I wasn't prepared for was when .he looked directly into the camera, smirked ,and said, " Good job not peeking, kid. Guess you didn't say a peep, huh? That doesn't matter to me. I may be locked up, but it won't last. Just pray I don't find you when I leave this place.........."