There seems to be a lot of "Serial Murderers" popping up into our tall suited character's world. Funny how that works. Painting smiles and fixing faces... coincidence? Sounds pretty tame to me.That makes me chuckle.
But I digress.
Speaking of the tall one. It's been a while since I have mentioned him. The last encounter I've had with him was intense to say the least.
It happened when I was in Penelope's apartment. I'm not sure if I had dozed off or was just day dreaming, but I saw him in her room. She was sound asleep. Just lying there in all of her perfection.
He knew I was there with him. He looked directly at me... And then the power started surging and these long grotesque tendrils erupted from his back.
Before I even knew what I was doing I was on him. My hand were wrapped around his throat. I put every ounce of energy, every ounce I had into squeezing his fucking head off of his shoulders.
Then it happened. Right when I was to the point that I couldn't squeeze any more, he lifted his head and started directly into my eyes.
His face started changing. Into vague faces I remembered but could actually recognize.
About the 7th face is when it hit me. All of the previous faces came rushing back to my memory. I released his throat and stumbled backwards. The man who's face I was staring at was roadside window washer from Arizona. He asked me if he could was my windows for a tip, He was trying to earn enough money to get back to Georgia to see his dying mother. I obliged and he proceeded to make my windshield spotless. I handed him a 50 dollar bill. He was so gracious. Then I put a round from a 9mm directly between his eyes.
Every face was a person I had murdered.
I had to stare each of them in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity. They said nothing. They just stared into my eyes.
After my 16th victim a face flashed for just a fraction of a second. I didn't catch it the first time. Every 10 or so after that it would flash. Then I realized the face that morphed for milliseconds between the faces of the people I had taken was a reflection of myself.
I just stood there and watched.. relived every victim.
The bag-lady from Pittsburg.
The minor league baseball coach from Salt Lake City.
Bank teller from Sante Fe
Man at the ATM in San Diego.
And on and on and on.
Toward the end there came faces I didn't recognize. Many faces....
Then I stood there staring at myself for what seemed like hours.
His face didn't change again.
It was just me looking into my own eyes.
He went back to his original form and I woke up on her couch.
I know he's still here.
I catch him out of the corner of my eye.
But I have bigger things brewing right now.
Until Next Time.