The Serial Killer Carousal

Serial Killers across the countries are coming together for the ultimate genocide. Follow their stories for how they became the biggest threat known to earth, and how much of a 'Fun Fair' they can be.


2. Death Report

        " 'Death is the prettiest thing.' Jeez, what a mental case. Look at how childish the writing is. I still can't believe how the police actually had her."

        "Who? I swear to god, you make absolutely no sense."

        "Only when you don't pay attention, you twat. You know, that homeless girl, who supposedly killed those other guys? Psycho-Maniac the local teens call her, don't they?" The twenty-something year-olds both sighed. Being some of the local morgue specialists meant they got to see some pretty weird and gruesome deaths. But lately, ever since this 'Psycho-Maniac' girl had popped up, and everyone seemingly intent on catching and sending her to America to be put on death row, they saw more and more creepy deaths.

        "Did you see how he was placed? It was as if she actually wanted the police to find him like that." 

        "I know! Kinda reminds me of a taxidermist, except with...alive...people...who've died, oh it sounded better in my head. You know what I mean though, right?" A sudden gust of cold, frosty air bit into their cheeks and they were reminded of what they were really doing at 34 Highfelp Lane at ten o'clock at night.

        "We'd probably better go. You know how mangy and horrible smelling the body gets after a while. I'll drive." Climbing into their specially designed van, a loud noise that sounded suspiciously like the unlocking of the back van doors interrupted them. Glancing at one another, the youngest climbed back out again to see what was going on. It was unknown for others to steal a dead body.

        The doors were clanging and flapping in the wind, giving the man glances of what was inside. Nothing, except a trail of thick blood that led inside the dead mans garage. Cautiously following the trail, the mans heartbeat grew timid, and fast, like a frightened mouse.

        "Joey? Where are-oh. Right. OK. Be careful!" The voice sliced through the night air like a knife. Handling the metal lock, Joey was still half expecting it to be locked. He surprised when the door opened up, to reveal an empty room and a pool of blood, trailing off from the swinging, flickering light on the ceiling.

        Joey's heart stilled in his dry, desert like mouth. Something seemed-off. More off than the blood drip, drip, dripping onto the concrete floor. Stepping into the garage, the door clanged shut, locking him in this dark, musty box. A scuffle of feet made Joey jerk to where the noise was coming from. "Al? Is that-" He never got to finish his sentence, as an axe swung through the air and cut his head clean off.


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