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Too many fucking nights hunting for the dude sent to ‘keep an eye on me’.   He failed Stalking 1010 by getting caught, but he’s since getting top marks for Advanced Hide-N-Seek.   And I’m flunking out.

So – tired, irritable Jonathon, coming home again before dawn, with the rest of the world just stirring and yesterday’s local paper still on the doorstep.

Hello, headline.


Sunday ********** Times, 26 July

Railway Workers In Shock Over Horrific Accident

Local railway workers were shocked yesterday to discover a headless body on the tracks near ******** train depot.

The unidentified man sustained horrific injuries when he fell or laid his head over the tracks in front of an oncoming train and was virtually decapitated.   The gruesome discovery left both depot workers and the train driver involved severely traumatised.

Police suspect the body to be that of an unknown homeless man living around ******* mall in recent weeks.   The man refused help and displayed erratic behaviour on previous encounters with authorities, but had not been seen for several days.

Despite the recent disappearances in the area and last month’s double homicide where Mr. and Mrs. *************** were found mutilated in their ******* home, police are calling the bizarre incident an accident, although suicide has not been ruled out.


Shit.   This is not an accident.   Amelia never allows accidents.   The guy even told me he ‘couldn’t handle it’ – considering the mode of death, I can guess what the poor old fucker couldn’t handle.  

Thing is, was it suicide?   I mean – think about it.   He did fuck up the stalking job – and fail is not one of Amelia’s favourite words.   I should know.  

You see, Amelia is always one step… well.   One step ahead.





  1. Why. Darling.
    How sweet of you to say so. Puns. So fun. You’ve always been such a boy at heart.

    It’s been a while, Jonathon love. We should really catch up.

    • Fuck you, troll. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. Go play fucking games on someone else’s blog.

      Or better yet – don’t. I’ve had a bloody annoying weekend, and would just love an excuse to hunt someone down and fuck them up a bit.

      Why shouldn’t it be you?

  2. Now.

    That is no way to talk. I thought I taught you some manners last time we met. I know we have some issues, doll, but that’s normal.
    Families always do.

    ‘Hunt (me) down and…’? Promises, promises. I certainly don’t want to look for sport elsewhere. I would rather play with you.

  3. OOOH.
    This is getting good..

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