No Body No Murder

These aphasic shadows have been the witness of the macabre deeds that you accomplished assuming no one was ever watching you, Mac...But you never paid any heed to the fact that you were always being watched, followed, or should I say-traced along the ways you were walking...Aww! Your gruesome ways of fulfilling your thirst for thrill! The way you introduced your newly bought butcher knife to your client by piercing it across his collar bone...Didn't you ever wonder what will he tell anyone who will ever ask him of his collar bone injury? Well, he should remain alive til' then for entertaining any of such queries-cause the next stab from you went straight through his windpipe...was it even real? How can you do this to a human being? Well, humans treat humans like humans. I don't think you're one such kind-I don't think you're kind-kind people don't have seventeen bodies buried in their backyard though. Do they even fit there? Cause I don't see any of them fitting in here-inside your skull-and from skull I remember one of your victims-the popcorn man...Guy got his skull torn apart with axe and filled with corn and tossed into beachside bonfire-just because he added cheese in your popcorn! Where are you...what are you up to with that shovel? Mac?MAC? 

“Sorry, Mr....” “Mr. Duke” “Yeah, Mr. Duke! Pardon my sudden silence-I hear voices in my head” 

“That's okay, Mr. O'rlan...We all often have those storms in our heads.”

“My storms are quite different...They mess with my mind, my feelings and...Huh! It's complicated!”, Mac O'rlan was cleaning his shovel in his storeroom. He had a new visitor today-Mr. Baloney ‘Edward’ Duke-a philanthropist worried with his mental issues, looking for a fine therapist to help him solve the mess in his head who found a classified about O'rlans’ Mental Health Counseling Firm in Monday's Evening Times and ended up being in Mac's clinic. The clinic was more like an isolated, abandoned Manor that was left as a legacy by O'rlan's rich ancestors. Since Mr. Duke's was one high profile case, they decided to meet at night at O'rlan's place. When he came, Mac was working in the small storeroom that was in the backyard of his manor. Duke decided not to interrupt Mac's work and sat on a chair nearby to attend the session. 

“Shadows, Mr. Duke, they speak to us, don't you think? It's like they follow us everywhere we go, they witness everything we do-one may even get rid of his friends and family, but those are the shadows that you can never get rid of...”

“In the dark! Your shadows can't haunt you in the dark!”, said Duke in a voice raised out of excitement as he resolved something-but O'rlan leaned on the table before him, looked into his eyes and said in a deep voice,“Darkness itself is a shadow, you think you can get in it-to hide yourself from the shadows of grief and guilt and misery-but you never get into it...Darkness gets into you...” Duke started sweating profusely, as he attempted to peep into the deep, immersed eyes of Mac O'rlan. He could only estimate the darkness that was filled into them-an eye would shed a tear due extreme darkness but these eyes! 

“I was here for the therapy, Mr. O'rlan, I read your classified and...” “Therapy shall be done in the best way possible, I insist you to not be worried about that, once I get done with these...shovels...”, as Duke heard his voice broke, he saw the lights in the storeroom flicker and crackle-must be a short circuit-abandoned places of this kind are obvious to have some-the weather hasn't been kind for three days too-such flickerings are obvious-why worry? Why worry? Huh? What is that...What is that shadow approaching closer and closer? Is it O'rlan? “O'rlan? O'rlan? Where are you? What's wrong with lights? I can't see anything!”, shouted Duke...but where's O'rlan? Oh! The shadow! That dark figure approaching! What's shining near him? Is he carrying something in his hand? Is it a KNIFE? Duke rose up and screamed out his name. He started searching for the doorknob-where is it? Do doorknobs go missing when you're stuck in a dark room with death approaching you? Aw, who can tell? Duke atleast reached something he could screw and open-it opened to a grassland, only lights he could see was of a bulb hanging outside the storeroom-whose light was reflected from the knife in the first place-and the lights from the O'rlans' manor which was 200 yards away from him. He heard a loud thud from his behind-like O'rlan stumbled upon something-but not much loud to confirm he's lying on the floor right now. Duke needed to run or he could get stabbed-don't know where-but he really could have gotten. He ran for his life-200 yards from life-with an unstable psychopath who claims to be a psychiatrist-slash-therapist-whatever! As he went for a 50 yard from the storeroom he stumbled upon something and collapsed flat on the grass. He felt something near his abdomen and as his hand approached to check the ‘thing’ he felt, a chill went through his spine. It was a human skull-with a wedge on it-corn and dirt was pouring out of its orbits where the eyes used to be and would pour tears-what purpose do the orbits serve after one's dead? Holding eyes properly? Duh! Lucky if the saprophytes show them mercy-which they never do-like O'rlan didn't show on this one. Duke threw the skull away and stood up quickly, his heartbeats were thudding with a pace that no percussion could ever match. Only thing he could hear was his mind saying RUN DUKE! Because death was only 10 yards from him...But as he could run, something hit the back of his head so hard and he collapsed on the grass again. It was a humerus bone...“Aww Humerus? You're gonna die a damn humorous death, Duke” Duke wasn't able to hear anything, there was only a shrill voice his ears could perceive-what his head could perceive was a warm drop oozing swiftly from the side his head-near ear and he felt it drop on the grass. Was it sweat? Sweat never felt warm though. As he felt his head with his hand and looked at it-it was red-it was blood. But he could feel no pain-why? 

“Well, now you will...”, and O'rlan struck his head with a shovel-Duke laid cold-screenplay darkened and it was a switch off-a shut down that is for forever. For Duke it was end-but was it for O'rlan? You could still see the shovel in his hand! But a shovel is for digging pits, hunting drains-obviously not for breaking skulls, digging brains. Also, how can a skinny man-just 54kg for an age of thirty four-dig such hard thing? He never tried digging his own ever though-well, that digging's supposed to he done without a shovel and without shutting down yourself like poor Duke. 

Poor? If he was poor, would there have been fun in breaking his skull? No way! Mac has never murdered a poor man-except that popcorn guy. Mac hates filth, doesn't he? “Dad!”, screamed O'rlan,“DAD! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” he fell on the ground-on the cold, bleeding body of Duke-he tore the skin over his skull-ever heard the voice of the skin covering your skull getting torn off? It sounds like you're testing a piece of cloth-don't check this fact on your friends though-stop imagining it! Those are your friends, dumb! But Mac, was he dumb? No, cause he knew a shovel can dig holes in the backyard to bury bodies but not in the skull so he pulled out his new butcher knife from the pocket of his wolf leather coat and hit it on ths skull as hard he could-the skull divided so wide that you could fit a wedge in it-plus blood! Blood's everywhere you dig at O'rlans' manor! Don't dig too deep though-or you'll find his dad. “DDDDAAAAADDDDD!!!!”, screamed he again and pulled out a wobbling mass of flesh from the skull-it's called brain. Blood was dripping from its meninges, the whole scene was gruesome, but more than that-disgusting. Only witness of it except O'rlan, you, me and the shadows was a tall figure standing up in the window on the third floor of the manor. Who was it? I don't know either! O'rlan removed every connection of the wobbling mass that was with the body and pulled out a little brandy bottle from his coat-poured on it and put the brain on flames. He drunk what was remaining of it-obviously the brandy-he was a psychopath, not a vamp. Vamps don't exist-or do they? Mac stood up, picked his shovel and started digging. He was screaming out DAD & DAD again and again-no one was there to answer his screams. As mentioned earlier shadows are aphasic, you and I can't do anything other than consuming the content like an extra cheese loaded pizza-not everyone likes horror-not everyone likes extra cheese. If you like-I appreciate your taste-you really have blessing of a good taste in murder fiction-cough cough-pizzas. First skeleton he encountered while digging was a playboy he buried by screwing a rusty iron screw in his skull, then the chicken lady-who wouldn't cook her meatballs properly-skull filled with eggshells. Aw! This must be the bartender-you can tell it from the shattered glass pouring from his-don't get ne started on eyes and orbits again. Nor I'm gonna describe all those seventeen-neither O'rlan's got enough energy in him to dig deeper. He pushed Duke in that hole to join other bodies and have a good night's sleep-not for him though-and buried him 6 ft deep.

7am already! Mac saw a police patroling car passing by. As the officer looked out for a moment to see O'rlan's coat and shirt covered in blood, he pulled over and shouted from the fence,“Another lamb?” Mac smiled in a macabre manner and yelled back,“Yeah! Wanna join for a breakfast?” 

“Sorry, I'd have loved to but got a missing philanthropist to search for! Have you saw anyone with a pink suit, grey hat passing by last night?” 

“Well, I slept at 7 last night so...” 

“That's okay!” 

“Best luck with the philanthropist though!” 

                                     - The Solar Step