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Short stories: Murder

by Jeffrey Bowman

Created on: May 18, 2008

I anticipated the start of America's Most Wanted. I felt that John Walsh would never get around to telling my story again. It happened over two months ago but the FBI has yet to find me in my new home.

I watched John Walsh as the finally told America about the accomplishments I had made.

"His name is Thomas Brown. He is 5'2" and weighs 500 pounds. Brown is confined to a specially design wheelchair that he himself invented. The FBI considers Brown to be a heartless freak since the day two months ago that he"

"A heartless freak? Why does he always have to say I am a heartless freak? Having a physical disability does not make me a freak!" I screamed as loudly as I could. I was so upset that I threw my pet cat at the television. The loud cracking sound of its neck breaking made me realize that I would have dispose of him just like the others.

I advanced my wheelchair forward, stopping near the lifeless cat. I lowered the mechanical arm of the chair and used it to pick up the cadaverous cat. I drove the wheelchair to the elevator and it slowly lowered me into the basement.

As the door opened a damp smell like mildew met my nostrils, causing them to constrict. The automatic lighting system was activated as I advanced my chair into the basement. The light gave off only a dim glow, not nearly bright enough for me to see well enough to perform the required tasks. However, there was enough light for me to see the accomplishments of the labor I had gone through over the past two months. I advanced down the aisle of freezers and gazed into the faces of each one of my prizes. The cats and dogs I began with, the mailman, and of course my sweet grandmother who I admired best of all my trophies.

I smiled at her and asked, "How are you doing grandma?" Although she never would give me a direct answer, her unchanged facial expression told me she was a little bit cold, but otherwise fine.

"That is great grandma!" I said. You know I only want you to be happy here. That is why I brought you here to live with me. I don't want you to ever get lonely."

She looked at me like I was crazy. She had been sitting in her rocking chair staring at me that way since the day I put her in that freezer. She just sat there like some sort of statue the whole time.

It was at this time that I remembered why I came down here: to take care of the cat I had killed moments before. I drove down the aisle of freezers until at last I found a vacant tomb. The door opened as I activated the switch and I placed the feline

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