The air over a small town sizzled and crackled with tension. No cars were on the road, and no citizens to claim the vicinity. The town seemed deserted, but the truth was quite the opposite. They were all in their homes, huddled by their TV's. The news for that day would forever, in a sick kind of way, haunt the town.
On their screens an anchor told a dark story. A story that didn't seem real, but it was surreal. That morning, before the bus's went on their daily routes, and before the coffee machines started brewing, a murder occurred in the town.
It was not like any other. There was a young man, of probably 20 or so, who killed the town's reverend. At first it was questioned why he would do such a barbaric thing, but soon the cloud's cleared.
The reverend had many secrets it would seem. He had killed over 10 of the women gone missing or found dead in the town. There was no explanation. All the evidence was in his house where he met his untimely death. The young man was the fiance of the last victim. She was the most tragic of them all, for she was innocent and everyone loved her.
She was a church goer; she sang in the choir, well known. The whole town knew her, and they all attended her funeral, even her murderer.
Her name was Lucy Lynn Ferdinand; Her fiance was Kenneth Kyle Johnson; Her killer was Reverend chuck O'malley.
Of the trio, only one was left behind. He would spend the next 10 years of his life in federal prison, though he didn't care. He reveled in the memory of the old man's face as he shot him in the head. It was of pure shock. He got his revenge for his beloved Lucy, and if the cost of it were 10 years of his life, so be it.
As the bars of the prison door closed shut, a small smile played on his lips. He had succeeded.
