Bundy Stories

Madison, a six year old girl, wakes up one night to hear someone in the shed. Creeping outside, she finds a man, who she finds out is Ted Bundy. But bad things always happen when you're friends with a serial killer.

Robert D Keppel and Richard Walter, head The Homicide Tracking Unit, (HITS), in April, 1974, to profile serial killers. And when they see a pattern of college girls being murdered in Seattle, Washington, (and other cities), they make sure that Ted Bundy is caught...at any cost. The chilling Non-Fiction sequel to "The college girls murders" that will scare you. Rated PG-13 for strong violence, sex scenes/references, some coarse language, and strong, adult themes. Warning: FOR READERS 13 YEARS AND OVER.

Chapter about serial killer and there Childhood

Ted Bundy was one of many serial killers known in 1970's. He was known for being a murderer, rapist, serial killer, and even more. This is one of a few people who survived this tragedy, and they tell their story to everyone.

Two days before he is scheduled to be put to death Ted finds a bunch of old letters. These letters reveal how manipulative he really is. Ted's accounts of this night are shocking and his thoughts obscene. Enjoy reading them.

so·ci·o·path /ˈsōsēōˌpaTH/ noun a person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience. Theodore Robert Bundy was an American serial killer, kidnapper, rapist, burglar, and necrophile who assaulted and murdered numerous young women and girls during the 1970s and possibly earlier. After more than a decade of denials, he confessed to 30 homicides that he committed in seven states between 1974 and 1978. America knew that Ted Bundy was an evil, manipulative sociopath yet, there was someone far more sinister than he and her name is Lana Del Rey.

Keegan Bundy's only goal in life is to end it. That's up until he meets a crazy girl that will take it on herself to teach him how to appreciate life. Follow them on their journey.

There are crimes that never make the news. They live in locked rooms, in silences practiced over years, in women who learn how to survive by becoming small. The world calls this absence peace. Atticus called it failure. He did not kill out of rage. He killed because some men were never going to stop. This is not a story about justice. It is a story about what comes after. @calistair.d this is also cross-posted on facebook along with few others of my works. read at your own risk. thank you.

«𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴!» «𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙴 𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁'𝚂 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙾𝙼 𝙱𝙰𝙱𝚈» «𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈'𝙻𝙻 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙰 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙴 𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙵𝙵 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝚃𝚄𝙴𝚂𝙳𝙰𝚈» «𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙻𝚄𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶: 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙰𝙿𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙾𝙳𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃 𝙱𝚄𝙽𝙳𝚈 𝙹𝙾𝙽𝙱𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚃 𝚁𝙰𝙼𝚂𝙰𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙻'𝚂 𝙳𝙰𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙹𝙴𝙵𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚈 𝙳𝙰𝙷𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴» «𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴!»

If he sounds desperate, it's because he is. If his pulse throbs like a captured raptor seeking liberty, it's because he fears. Oh my! Where did the charm go? The manners? The artificial grace that scores of Venuses were falling for? Sunday. While he huddles up on the centre of his snare recollecting sleeping souls, blank gazes and bloodstained hands, the fright of paying the price for his twisted desires grows with each hour. Sunday. What a pathetic caged monster he must appear to be, waiting and trembling as the clock strikes 3:00. '15, '30, '50 and finally 4:00, helpless and fated he's counting down for the bitter end to arrive. ''What I say IS law!'' he used to holler at the "weak" seconds before stealing their very last breath. But now what? Shackled and confined, he stares at the victorious face of justice and drops penitent tears. Sunday. The urge to jump off the barbed wire fence and run, run, run, roams across his wicked veins. But it's way too late. Time has come. Sunday. His ruthless sentence approaches, guiding him to the hostile deathly chamber that reeks of scorched human flesh. He quivers. He cries. He pleads for his release. But it's way too late. Time has come. Sunday. When he finally stops! Stands still. Surrenders, as the bell tolls. Realising that now, there's no way to disobey the trend. Rules can't be defied, nor can they bend. Sunday. The day his conscious opens its eyes and through the room's window faces a living hell. Raising its head with pride and a malicious smirk, ready to wear its blanched crown. Oh my! Really, what an entrancing package with such awful content. Two thousand volts of adrenaline running through his body while swallowing the souls. Two thousand volts of electricity while he's paying for his faults.

I've written about serial killers and unsolved murder cases, and I want to talk about them here.

A 16 year old girl who is the daughter of a famous serial killer. What will happen