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A few Books.
A little writing since I plan on being a writer.
This Day of All Days
"Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion."
--- by David Herbert Lawrence


Jennifer Lewis sat alone on a bench in the middle of a park. Couples passed her by occasionally, but none of them cast their eyes upon her. Instead, they carried on their casual conversation. Jennifer watched the leaves fall from the trees. She'd always thought they were the only thing that looked beautiful in death. Rather than withering and dying like most things of this mortal realm, they ended in such glorious golden and bronze colors. They astounded her, really. She would always want to die like a leaf. Not old, gray, and disgusting, but cast in gold and falling from the skies, something beautiful. Jennifer watched a stray breeze wash the leaves over her shoes, she stepped on them lightly. Savoring the rich crunching sound they made beneath her heels. As a kid, she'd always loved playing in the leaves. Jennifer would always stay home on the first day of autumn just to watch them fall down, spinning as they did so. Sometimes she'd get a rake and pile them up. She dearly wished her name had been Autumn rather than the boring name of Jennifer. She hated her name so much, she insisted on being called Autumn by friends and family alike. So much so, her friends had long forgotten what her real name even was.

Jennifer was a good looking girl with long, white, legs that were smoother than silk. Emerald eyes that glinted with a slight mischievous energy, and curly brown hair. She curled her hair often, she felt it was sexier than the hair of any normal, straight haired, blonde, bimbo that usually walked the streets at night. Probably looking for clients too. Jennifer had long since been told she was the most beautiful girl people had ever seen. She'd been told this since boys started taking a liking to girls. Any boy who found her attractive found it practically impossible just to talk to her! Ha! It was funny watching them stutter over themselves trying to come up with a way to say hello. Pathetic, almost.

Jennifer was the kind of girl who didn't see why people needed to be in a relationship; in every one she'd been in it had always ended in failure, in part because no single man could satisfy her, and because no single man could handle her. She was just too fine a woman! The relationships always ended because the men weren't enough for her, so she'd break it off with them. Devastated as they were, she would leave them in the dust without a single wave good bye. Jennifer lived the life of a free woman. Casual sex whenever she wished, freedom to do whatever she wanted without someone calling her to ask where she was. Alone time whenever she needed it. And, of course, no drama.

A particularly annoying couple walked past Jennifer, calling each other pet names, holding hands, being too close to one another for any sort of comfort. Jennifer watched them with prying eyes; she saw the boy glance over to her, and she knew that he wanted her in that moment. Jennifer thought the boy looked good. He was young, probably in his early twenties. Good solid build, but his thick hair was an instant turn off. Guys shouldn't have such thick hair, it made them look like girls. But, Jennifer would have pleased him in many ways. If only it weren't for that pesky girlfriend of his. Jennifer winked at the boy, and he immediately looked away. No doubt he was shy after seeing such a beautiful woman wink at him. How cute.

The couple walked away from her, Jennifer sensed that the boy would ravish his girlfriend tonight thinking of Jennifer's face. In fact, she had no doubt in her mind that's how it'd play out. Jennifer stood up and followed after the couple. She was planning on going this way anyway, she had a job to get back to.
Jennifer watched the girl closely, she had her arms wrapped around her boyfriend tight. Clearly, this woman was clingy and didn't like being abandoned. Her boyfriend must have felt so suffocated, one of the many reasons why Jennifer didn't do relationships anymore.

The couple stopped at the corner of a street. Traffic was heavy today, cars and trucks sped by without even watching for the signals. The police here were so lazy! How could they let this go by without hunting down the speeding bastards? Jennifer would have to write a letter to the police about this issue. She was a responsible member of the community, she'd do anything to make this place even a little better. Jennifer watched the couple make out passionately. It was, in Jennifer's eyes, disgusting. How could he kiss her when she, Jennifer, was right there? Why didn't he come over here and kiss her? Was she not enough? Was he just being a ******** tease? Jennifer was filled with such red, hot, anger that she nearly ripped her hair out. Instead, she kept herself composed. That's what people said nowadays wasn't it? Composed and calm was better than uncontrollably angry. Jennifer watched them from afar, trying in vain to keep a smile on. The boy looked up at her, caught her eye for a moment, then went back to kissing his girlfriend.
That was the last straw.

Acting entirely on impulse, Jennifer shoved the girl into traffic. She flew backward, apparently being very light. Her boyfriend tried to hang onto her but his foot slipped on the pavement and he fell with her right into traffic. A truck had been speeding by just as they fell into traffic and they were crushed beneath the tires. The boys head popped like a ripe melon, sending red spray in all directions. Jennifer had been just out of range of the spray and managed to stay completely dry. The girl was practically flat on the pavement. Sort of like a cartoon character when they got an anvil dropped on their heads. She twitched for a moment before ceasing entirely. Jennifer was glad she was dead. That's what she deserved, the stupid b***h. As for the boy, well, Jennifer didn't like his hair anyway and she doubted he could have pleasured her even slightly.

She'd seen plenty of crime dramas to know what happened next. The sirens would sound off, people would scream and run out of their cars. There would be officers everywhere. Jennifer had to be gone before then. She turned away from the bodies of the couple and began walking down the sidewalk, paying no mind to the crowd running around her, trying to catch a glimpse of the bodies. Jennifer herself was in shock from what she'd just done. Did she feel bad? Hardly. She felt wonderful in fact, but she had never before done something on such impulse. Before she had managed to ignore that impulse and go on with her life, but now? She understood why killers did what they did now. Jennifer put on a pair of black sunglasses in a vain effort to hide herself. She knew it was in vain because she'd be easily picked out in a police line. Her gorgeous features couldn't be missed! She was just too beautiful not to be picked out.

Jennifer went home, took off her clothes, and stared at her naked body in her mirror for a while. It was so perfect. She had the hourglass figure that women sought. Her breasts were perky and she was fit with what plenty of her loves had called a "bubble butt." Indeed, she was the perfect woman, and she loved it. Jennifer stepped into the shower, imagining over and over the couple falling into traffic. Just the mere thought of it turned her on, and she began to feel a sick sexual satisfaction from it. She wanted, dearly, to kill again, to feel the same rush that she had felt earlier in the day. Oh, she desired it, she wanted it, she needed it! She'd have to get a lover tonight. And maybe she'd kill them, just to feel the same rush.


--- End Of Jennifer ---

--- Thomas Colton ---

Thomas sat alone in the middle of a musty old bar. Beside him was some drunk who'd fallen asleep after getting too acquainted with a bottle of vodka. The drink was spilled all over the table, a puddle stretched into Thomas' space and onto his elbow, which was resting comfortably. Thomas brushed the sleeping drunk away from him. The smell alone was repulsive enough to almost make him want to get up and away from the drunk. Did this guy piss himself? It wasn't a far off assumption; plenty of people couldn't control their bowels when they were s**t-faced. This guy was no exception, apparently.

Thomas was skinny, thanks to a fast metabolism. When his school friends grew beer bellies, he stayed thin. Thomas was also very pale, being almost the shade of paper. He had salt-n-pepper hair, thinning near the temples and growing grey-er with each day. His face was scarred, flaked, pitted. His face was a map of scars each stretching across his face and each with it's own story to tell. Most of the times he'd tell you the stories himself. He didn't care about his physical appearance; he'd never looked like a model to begin with, and he had more important things on his mind other than personal vanity. He wore a heavy tan trenchcoat and a pair of blue jeans. This was his usual attire when he was on the job. It reminded him of the old 50's detectives; from the old movies that he'd grown up with. He lacked the classic fedora, but that was alright. He didn't look good with one on anyway. Thomas also didn't smoke, which was a big thing for the old detectives of the 50's.

The bartender, a man with a beer belly big enough to rival a sumo wrestler's fat stomach, flipped on the television. A news anchor stood in the middle of a street, two white blankets were stretched over a span of the road. Took no genius to figure out they were bodies. From what Thomas could tell, two people had been pushed into on-coming traffic. The victims were identified as Jessica Pierce and Todd Cormack. They were in their twenties, planning on getting married too. Todd had had a diamond ring in his pocket; looks like he was planning on popping the question tonight. Thomas shook his head at their luck.

The killer wasn't able to be identified. Cameras only got a waist down profile of the killer. The only thing the police knew was that the killer was female, possibly knew the victims. It was speculated that the killer knew Todd and was possibly a past lover who was jealous.

"Real unfortunate," the bartender said, cleaning a glass with a stained towel. Hardly sanitary. "s**t like this happens all the time. Last week some feller got stabbed in the alley over he-ya."
"Yeah, I remember that. Crack head right?"
"The guy who got stabbed?"
"No, the stabber."
"Yeah, probably. Ain't nothin' surprises me these days. Hell, I wouldn't even be shocked if the crack head was still comin' he-ya."
"They didn't catch him?"
"They nevah do."
Thomas nodded his head, ordered a drink. Although he wasn't much of a drinker, he figured the small tid-bit of conversation was worth something. It's not often he had one that wasn't pertaining to his job.
Thomas' cell phone rang, he checked the name on the front; Don Marsh.

"Yeah," Thomas answered, "what is it Don?"
"We've got a murder over here on the corner of 5th and-"
"I saw the news. Took you long enough to call."
"Well, we tried your other phones. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a hold of you?"
"I usually carry around my cell."
"Then carry around your work phone too, goddammit! Look, get over here. The crowd is building up and we're causing a traffic jam. So the faster you get here and check it out, the better."

Don hung up without saying goodbye. Thomas sighed. Nobody had manners anymore. He stood up, paid for his drinks, then left to go to the murder scene. The bartender waved goodbye and Thomas waved back, trying to be as polite as possible. Thomas hopped into his smooth black car, fit with bulletproof, dark, windows. 5th and Main was what the anchor had said. Eight blocks away. While it was usually a ten minute drive, the traffic had certainly piled up on itself. Everyone was no doubt trying to catch a glimpse of the murder scene, or looking for an excuse for walking into work late. Either way it was the most excitement their day was going to see, and as barbaric as it seemed, Thomas could understand.

Murder scenes had become what the ancient coliseum had been to the ancient Romans. Everyone wanted to see blood, everyone wanted to see death. It was morbidly attractive. The kind of thing that you didn't want to look at, but did anyway. Looking at the dead bodies, everyone was slightly happier to be alive. And in that, Thomas understood why they watched. Why they looked. In part, that's why he'd taken this job. To get up close and personal with Death, shake his hand, and ask how he was doing.





 
 
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