The smell of booze radiated throughout the room. The sound of glass bottles clinking together
could be heard as I opened yet another beer, tossing the empty one onto the floor. It was past 10:00 at
night, only darkness visible through the large curtain-less windows. I sighed, leaning back further in the
old leather recliner. The TV had gone static, the loud crackling and hissing only further worsening my
mood. The small light in the corner of the room was flickering endlessly. I wasn’t sure exactly how many
beers I had consumed, though it was enough to decrease the accuracy of my recognition of my
surroundings. I wobbled as I walked to the pictures in the long hallway. Each photograph contained a
woman and children; my family. Was my family. My chest tightened as I grabbed a picture frame,
throwing it angrily onto the ground. The glass shattered, covering the wooden floor of the hall. I ignored
it, walking the opposite direction to my bedroom.
I stopped at the end of the hall, the last framed picture catching my eye. Had it always been there?
I couldn’t remember. Who was it? What was it?
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, sending goosebumps down my spine. A noise echoed
throughout the hallway. An ear-piercing shriek. My hands flew over my ears as I hunched over, trying to
block out the waves of sound. The noise stopped, my head throbbing. I opened my eyes, craning my neck
to look down the dark hall. A black silhouette stood at the end.
Tall.
Large.
Inhuman.
“Wh–who are you?!” My voice quivered. I felt something pierce through my chest, causing me to
fall backwards onto the ground. Laying themselves upon the pool of blood forming around me, my eyes
widened. The creature stood above me, it’s hunger filled eyes looking down at me. I didn’t know what
was happening as my last thoughts crossed my mind; I’m sorry.
***
I sat at my desk, holding my head between my hands with frustration. Another murder had
occurred late last night. Brian Wilson, age 53, divorced. Cause of death; puncture wounds in the chest and
stomach. Parts of the body was found shredded to pieces. Over the last 12 months, there were at least 43
murders. Similarities? None found so far. There were no leads. At least, not yet.
“Jackson, I think we found something!”
I lifted my head, immediately snapped out of my daze. “What is it?”
My assistant, Eleanor Kennedy, walked into my office holding several files. She placed them on
my desk. “So far, the victims were all males over the age of 40. Examples; Michael Benjamin, age 45.
Elijah Curran, age 56. Sebastian Henry, age 52. And now? Brian Wilson, age 53.” She placed down
additional files. “The tests run on the remnants of the victims’ bodies shows that they were all intoxicated
at the time of their deaths. Their levels of intoxication were varied, but all the victims were indeed
intoxicated.” She said.
“Ella, have Asher run additional background checks on all the victims. I want every little detail,
especially of the crime scene.” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Yes, sir.” She left me with the files.
I looked over all the files, occasionally frowning at the reports. I stood up and walked to the board
I had hung on the wall. Images of the victims and their crime scenes were pinned onto the board, details
about them written under their profiles.
“Jackson, Asher finished collecting the data.” Ella marched into my office, giving me the new files. I took
them, looking them over multiple times.
“It’s odd. I can’t seem to find anything else.” I sighed, at a loss. The person sure was covering up their
tracks well. They must have had help with doing so.
“Jackson, I think there’s something you should know about the case.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I’ve been doing some of my own research–”
“Ella.”
“I know I’m not supposed to go to the crime scene alone, but please hear me out.” She pleaded.
I sighed. “Fine. Go ahead.”
She heaved a breath of relief, handing me a folder. “I don’t think any of the officials noticed, but look; in
each of the victim’s homes, this picture or similar was hanging on the wall.”
I opened the folder, spreading the pictures out on my desk. She kept speaking. “So far, I have no clue how
long the pictures were hanging before their deaths, but since all the victims were intoxicated, perhaps at
first they hadn’t noticed the pictures. The picture could’ve been hanging for weeks without the victim
knowing. It could be a sign that the killer has or is going to show up.”
I looked over all the pictures she had taken. How had I not noticed such a crucial detail? The pictures
were hard to make out, yet so easy. “It’s almost as if… the killer wants to be known. This must be how
the current victims saw the creature before they were killed.” I said, holding three different pictures in my
hands. Within each picture was a creature made of black, with fogged red orbs that glowed as eyes. It was
in a different place in each image. In the middle of a room, standing in a corner, and/or in a tree out the
window. How did the picture frames get on the walls? Most of the victims lived alone, eliminating the
possibility of a roommate hanging it up. Even if a person did it, how did they get the pictures? Where did
they get the pictures? Why would the killer leave something so important at the crime scene?
“This case is more complicated than I thought.” I mumbled, looking up at my assistant. “Ella, I’m going
to need your help with this case. You’ve found something that does indeed help us with finding the killer,
or at least its next victims.”
“Yes sir. What should I do now?” She asked, her attitude suddenly very determined.
“Go back and look over all the victims’ files, you seem to have an eye for smaller details. You should be
able to see details that I may have skipped over accidentally.” I said, handing her all the files.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be back momentarily, if that is all.” She said, turning around and leaving the room.
I looked at the profiles on the wall, a pit forming in my stomach. What was the killer’s motive? Was the
killer really human? No, it can’t be.
I became lost in my thoughts.
The door opened, Ella entering. “Sir, look.” She placed down files, which had multiple highlighted
paragraphs and sections. “Each of the victims were over the age of forty, alcoholics, and lived mostly
alone. The victims relationship statuses were all completely different; some were divorced, married, and
others single. I found saliva on one of the victims, but the DNA didn’t match anyone in the database. Sir,
the killer-”
“It’s not human.” I interrupted. “I already figured that based on the photos you took of the frames on the
walls. Might I add, it was very smart of you not to move the evidence. Let’s go back and check for
fingerprints.”
“Thank you, sir. I already checked for fingerprints of any sort. There were none.”
“With that brain of yours, how did you only make it as an assistant?” I asked, astonished. If Ella was this
clever, why wasn’t she in the same position as me?
“I appreciate the compliment, sir. But I am merely an assistant.” She smiled politely, straightening her
skirt. “I’ll leave you to it.” She said, leaving the room. I nodded my head to myself, looking over the
files.
“Wait…” I mumbled, frowning. “If some of the victims lived alone, how did anyone find their bodies?” I
reviewed all the details. Most of the areas each victim lived in were isolated. Their houses were
untouched, without counting the mysterious picture frames and damage the victims did while intoxicated,
there was nothing missing or broken.
***
I slammed my apartment door shut, walking in and throwing my brown bag down in front of the
door. I went straight to the fridge, pulling out a can of beer and relaxing momentarily at the satisfying
sound of the beverage fizzing before downing half the can. I glanced in front of the fireplace, immediately
frowning. “I thought I told my roommate to quit hanging that flipping picture on the wall. It’s creepy.” I
grumbled, slamming my beer can on the marble counter by the fridge and stomping over to the picture. It
was of a really tall man with skin of black and red marble eyes. It’s mouth hung open, black slime
connecting its lips. “I’m sick of it.” I threw it into the fireplace and watched it catch fire. Taking out my
phone and dialing my roommate, I slowly walked back to my beer. He answered shortly after.
“Yeah?” His voice rang out.
“Hey man, I know you left today for your trip, but I thought I asked you to stop hanging that picture up.”
I stopped walking, my voice angry. There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again.
“What picture?” His voice was dumbfounded. I scoffed with disbelief.