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Happy Halloween.   Jonathon8-style.

I’ve been planning on going trick or treating as a serial killer.   I’ve had the costume all ready.   Black hoodie – check.   Useful bag of ‘tricks’ (and snaplock bags) – check.   Brix’s address for this follow-up visit– check.  

Dexter Morgan – eat your heart out.   Or better still – let me.

See – as a special holiday present to myself, I’d decided to see to that unfinished business and surprise a certain Mr Brandon Rix with a late-night dinner invitation he won’t be able to refuse.   Sure, I had a go the other night, but was kind of thwarted.   It’s no fun once you get seen – no sudden look of shock and terror when you ingratiate yourself without warning into their personal space, plus a far higher chance of screaming and aimless running about which gets fucking irritating, and can have troublesome repercussions.   No.   Quiet, swift, and then time to relax and enjoy the spoils.   No doubt Brix would be eager to have a little stalker talk with me at school Monday after seeing me at his window, but I thought I’d beat him to it.  

Upshot was – All Hallows’ Eve is clearly a much better night for a kill, from a atmospheric, thematic and bloody practical point of view.

So I’m fidgetting about on the fire escape as night falls, a little thrilled and thirsty now the time is coming… when the doorbell buzzes.

Now – people only ring my doorbell when they’re lost, or selling something, or Harmony.   The last is her own exception.   The first two kinds are usually welcomed as unexpected takeaway delivery.   Hey – they enter at their own risk…

But tonight it’s gonna be some local bunch of greedy kids hitching up gaudy lycra and scratching at tulle, begging for food with a hovering adult in the background.   Any other time of year, sending your child out deliberately to plead with people for sugary charity and to take candy from strangers would be considering horrendous parenting.   Tonight it’s not only commendable, it’s verging on compulsory…

I won’t be answering the door.   I don’t do candy.

Fuck – now they’re knocking.   Those little shits will be tricked into becoming my treats at this rate.   And if there’s any dressed as ‘vampires’, I’m going to be fucking annoyed about it.

They’re still knocking.   And buzzing.   Fine then.

So I open the fucking door – and it’s not kids.

It’s Brix.

And that’s when he shoots me.





  1. Finally a post that makes me want to kill you (again) for all the suspense it engulfs.


    Ok seriously, this has been an awesome read. You are an excellent writer, very descriptive and captivating, and I am obviously “hooked!” Now hurry up and heal so you can write some more 🙂

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