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Authors: James A. Newman
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carefully mutilated her. One clean vertical stroke from throat to groin opened the transsexual. He tore out the liver and pocketed it. The penis he hacked away with the blade. The Killer stuffed the organ in the deceased’s mouth.
Yes, she sucked.
He drew two symbols with the knife on the prostitute’s body. One on the thigh and one on the left buttock. Once finished, he simply dropped the body onto the sands and returned to the beach road. A homeless man begged for alcohol. A crowd of sex tourists and prostitutes gathered twenty-five metres away from the beach. An old Chinese practiced Tai Chi. None had seen his work. The Killer breathed heavily and headed towards his apartment. He reached an alley and took off the hat and the beard. He stuffed them in the satchel. He turned back to see a crowd of four or five working girls walking towards the dead transvestite.
One screamed.
Then several screams.
A man shouted. Tourists swore in thirteen different languages. His paced quickened. He didn’t look back until he reached the apartment.
Number two had been accomplished. He washed his hands in the sink. Wiped the blade clean. Opened the fridge. Took out a beer. Drank it down. Opened another and looked at it.
Outside the city darkened.
Like hell.
THIRTEEN
FUN CITY EXPRESS
December 7th
Following the discovery of the mutilated casual worker Tammy Yu yesterday morning, a B.I.B investigation, led by Chief Kult, has led to the arrest of a British national named Sebastian Bell. Bell, who was with the victim the night in question, has been under surveillance for some time for separate internet pornography offences and other minor moral offences. ‘We have the man responsible,’ Kult said during a brief press gathering earlier today. Bell is being held without bail as further evidence is gathered.
His mother, the once famous White Flamingo catwalk model made a statement protesting against the injustice and proclaiming her son’s innocence. “He would never do such a thing,” she said. “This is an example of police corruption at the highest level. My son is innocent,” she said at the small press conference at the Fun City expat’s club this afternoon.
The case continues…
FOUR TEEN
TAYLOR ATTACHED the file to an email and sent the document to the Express. He looked out the window at the city below him. It had been weeks since he had been outside, and when he thought about it, a fear gripped him, he felt as if he were exposed outside, as if his outer body were invisible, they could look inside him and manipulate his vulnerabilities. His face a map of his past failures, his footsteps, exaggerated, laboured, indicative of his failure. The streets were not safe. He was scared mostly of himself. How he would react to an ordinary conversation if one were to be brought up. Would he be able to join and talk about ordinary stuff like the weather, or would he retreat back inside himself and return to the safety of these four walls. The trouble was that he would have to treat himself. There was nobody else in Fun City crazy or sane enough to treat him. Strangely, he was always calm when treating patients (which he did for free), their madness gave him the strength to continue existing. It was as if every neurosis and anxiety told by a stranger gave him a clearer idea of the concept of mental illness as a whole. Their madness made him sane.
Taylor opened an old file on the computer and began to type…
… And so she moved south toward the lake…
FIFTEEN
THE RED sky died to the colour of an angry bruise above the station. The grey functional building stood at the mouth of the ninth road. The smell of barbequed chicken wafted from a nearby stall. The Detective had read somewhere that a fraction of the government funds granted to build the place had been spent on its construction. The rest of the money carefully invested on imported German cars, expensive
Yes, she sucked.
He drew two symbols with the knife on the prostitute’s body. One on the thigh and one on the left buttock. Once finished, he simply dropped the body onto the sands and returned to the beach road. A homeless man begged for alcohol. A crowd of sex tourists and prostitutes gathered twenty-five metres away from the beach. An old Chinese practiced Tai Chi. None had seen his work. The Killer breathed heavily and headed towards his apartment. He reached an alley and took off the hat and the beard. He stuffed them in the satchel. He turned back to see a crowd of four or five working girls walking towards the dead transvestite.
One screamed.
Then several screams.
A man shouted. Tourists swore in thirteen different languages. His paced quickened. He didn’t look back until he reached the apartment.
Number two had been accomplished. He washed his hands in the sink. Wiped the blade clean. Opened the fridge. Took out a beer. Drank it down. Opened another and looked at it.
Outside the city darkened.
Like hell.
THIRTEEN
FUN CITY EXPRESS
December 7th
Following the discovery of the mutilated casual worker Tammy Yu yesterday morning, a B.I.B investigation, led by Chief Kult, has led to the arrest of a British national named Sebastian Bell. Bell, who was with the victim the night in question, has been under surveillance for some time for separate internet pornography offences and other minor moral offences. ‘We have the man responsible,’ Kult said during a brief press gathering earlier today. Bell is being held without bail as further evidence is gathered.
His mother, the once famous White Flamingo catwalk model made a statement protesting against the injustice and proclaiming her son’s innocence. “He would never do such a thing,” she said. “This is an example of police corruption at the highest level. My son is innocent,” she said at the small press conference at the Fun City expat’s club this afternoon.
The case continues…
FOUR TEEN
TAYLOR ATTACHED the file to an email and sent the document to the Express. He looked out the window at the city below him. It had been weeks since he had been outside, and when he thought about it, a fear gripped him, he felt as if he were exposed outside, as if his outer body were invisible, they could look inside him and manipulate his vulnerabilities. His face a map of his past failures, his footsteps, exaggerated, laboured, indicative of his failure. The streets were not safe. He was scared mostly of himself. How he would react to an ordinary conversation if one were to be brought up. Would he be able to join and talk about ordinary stuff like the weather, or would he retreat back inside himself and return to the safety of these four walls. The trouble was that he would have to treat himself. There was nobody else in Fun City crazy or sane enough to treat him. Strangely, he was always calm when treating patients (which he did for free), their madness gave him the strength to continue existing. It was as if every neurosis and anxiety told by a stranger gave him a clearer idea of the concept of mental illness as a whole. Their madness made him sane.
Taylor opened an old file on the computer and began to type…
… And so she moved south toward the lake…
FIFTEEN
THE RED sky died to the colour of an angry bruise above the station. The grey functional building stood at the mouth of the ninth road. The smell of barbequed chicken wafted from a nearby stall. The Detective had read somewhere that a fraction of the government funds granted to build the place had been spent on its construction. The rest of the money carefully invested on imported German cars, expensive
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