Sandy Supposes....

Who Me?

         Do I recall the Sims' murders? Oh, yes I do. I suppose you can say that I have an intimate knowledge of that what shall I call it, crime, incident, life-altering event.Well, it certainly changed my life.I've never forgotten the details. Time and age have not dimmed my memory. All I have to do is close my eyes and it's as if I'm back there in Tallahassee in the year 1966.

         My spine tingles. My ears strain to hear if my presence is detected, but all I can register is my own rapid breathing as my pulse throbs. Muted voices murmur from the house I'm approaching. I creep forward in the damp grass and pause every few steps. I chuckle now because the detectives surmised correctly. I snuck out of the woods undetected, a shadow in the night.

         At the back door of the house, I pull on a pair of gloves and rearrange the balaclava masking my face. It proves to be a bit loose and it tends to obscure my vision. Obviously, one size does not fit all. I pat a pocket of the coveralls I've chosen to wear and the cold, hard butt of my handgun comforts me.Just as I expected the back door opens easily as I turn the knob.

         No one confronts me, or objects to my presence as I step into the darkened kitchen.So far,so good, and I smile. I waste no time and tip toe to the staircase. Again, I cock my head and scan for any hint of alarm. From above, the family I stalk continue their conversation unaware of their fate. I stifle an urge to giggle.

         With exaggerated care I climb the carpeted steps marvelling at the lush thickness disguising my steady rise.At this point, I admit, a line of cool sweat trickled down my shirt. I shivered. At the landing, I grip my weapon of choice and tug at the slipping balaclava one final time.

         I cannot believe no one has noticed me, or stopped me. I step without hesitation into the master bedroom and I raise the gun to silence the screams in mid shriek. A giggle bursts from me. Oh, the family before me do not appreciate how ridiculous they look. Their eyes refuse to blink as they quake and quiver. Like exaggerated cartoon characters, they stuff hands into their gaping mouths.I have frightened them, me. I wave the gun and they scurry together sobbing and clinging.

         I wrench open a bureau drawer and discover a handful of panty hose which I toss at the shaking daughter. I order her to blindfold and gag her parents. She nods numbly when I ask if she understands. When this is achieved, I command that she restrain them and I test she has trussed them tightly.

         Without warning I shove the mister of the house, Robert Sims, onto the bed and before he can protest, or struggle, I shoot him in the head. The missus, Helen, attempts to shield her daughter, Joy, and push her towards the door. A bullet to the leg topples her to the floor and while she writhes and moans I truss up the girl.

         I drink in the odour of fear pulsating in the room.I straighten to my full height and rock on my heels. Joy crumples to the floor tears streaming down her face and soaking her nightgown. I shoot her in the head and her mother jerks trying to kick out at me. The guttural groans irritate me and I then shoot Helen one, two, three times. My trigger finger just spasmed.

         My heart skipped a beat and I almost jumped out of my skin when Joy rolled towards her mother's body. I squeezed the trigger, but my bullets were spent.I raced downstairs and fumbled for the first large knife I could find. Back in the blood-splattered bedroom, I lashed out and slashed over and over. Pausing to catch my breath, I satisfied myself that my victims were deceased. No one squirmed. No one gasped.

         In no hurry, I sauntered out the kitchen door without a backward glance. All my senses seethed as if electrified. I disappeared into the trees stuffing my balaclava into my pocket and balling up my stained gloves. I tossed my coveralls, the mask, and the gloves into an industrial waste container as I strolled home. The gun made a discrete splash as it sank into a silent stream.I slipped into my own bed as the first sirens wailed.

         No one ever suspected me. I revel in that. Of course, if I had been careless and left clues, let alone a clue behind, the police officers and paramedics ensured I'd never be incriminated. Those blundering fools contaminated the crime scene, didn't they? They trampled all over that house without thought to finding anything. They muddied the waters so to speak. Who could prove I was there?

         Who am I ? Why did I commit this horrendous act? Well, why should I reveal my identity now? I got away with murder. No one ever suspected me. Perhaps this was my first chumming of the Florida waters. I will admit this. I have a natural inclination for killing. It makes me feel alive. Is that perverse?

         Okay, okay, I will leave this obscure clue just because I can. The two surviving Sims daughters know me. They consider me a friend in fact. Isn't that delicious?(904 words)

         

April 9th Prompt: The Oct. 22nd, 1966 Tallahassee, Florida murders of Robert Sims, his wife Helen and their youngest daughter, Joy. Never solved. No suspects ever charged. No enemies, no discernible motive. What happened ? Why? Who did it?