Simply Shorts Too

by Marvin Perkins

  The little girl was just dead. She had no signs of trauma, nothing, very odd the detectives thought. Could have been strangled, suffocated, died of a heart attack, any number of naturally occurring events. The medical examiner would have to figure out the cause of death once he got the little girl on his table.

  When the forensics came back there was another curious finding. The only fingerprints that were found on the knife were the victim’s. Even if a killer had used gloves there would have been smudge marks in the blood on the knife, there were none, just clean sets of prints belonging to the victim. All signs pointed to suicide.

  Sam Tomas the M.E. came to a similar conclusion as the detectives had. The cause of death was obvious, she had bled out due to the massive injury to the carotid artery when her throat was violently cut. The wound was very deep and made with considerable force and violence, even rage. If an intruder killed her, he had cut her throat from behind, Tomas also determined. Not much to go on other than the obvious. He ruled her death as suicide, although he still wasn't convinced, but there was no evidence to prove that she had been murdered.

  The little girl died from unknown natural causes. There was no evidence that she had been smothered, strangled or traumatized in any way. By all rights she shouldn't even be dead, but she was. Her heart had just stopped and her little body's systems had shut down mysteriously, no explainable cause. Sam being a man of science and of evidence didn't want to say it out loud, but he felt deep inside that something supernatural had happened with the death of both the victims. He couldn't prove it, he just had a premonition, a horrible sick feeling he couldn't explain.

  Pederson and Dominguez talked to every neighbor in a two block radius, with little result. A suspicious man had been seen skulking around the area but no one knew who he was and descriptions varied. He was probably just some homeless man or derelict who had nothing to do with the murders. They followed every lead they could find for months without any luck. They had nothing to go on, no suspects and no hope of finding a suspect. By this point it was assumed the woman did commit suicide and the case would never be solved.

  Jim was beside himself with rage. He couldn't believe Samantha had committed suicide and couldn't accept that his daughter had not also been murdered. He took a leave of absence from his job to work full time on the case himself. He couldn't concentrate at work anyway and being around the house was very hard for him. He was still haunted by the scene of his wife's body on the kitchen floor, all the blood and his baby girl lying dead, looking innocent and beautiful.

  Six months later he was sitting in his study in front of a roaring fire he had built, absentmindedly stoking at the flames. He was mentally, morally, and physically drained, a total train wreck, just a shadow of the successful businessman he was just a few months earlier.

  “Samantha, Rachael, I miss you so much. I've done everything I know how to do but the fiend that killed you is still out there, free and unpunished.” He threw the poker violently into the fire. “I want revenge! I demand retribution!”

  In the dark the fire's reflection danced on the wall giving the room an eerie glow. Jim wailed like a madman, he felt like he was in hell, his soul was so tormented it seemed like he was being ripped apart.

  On the wall were several original works of art, they weren't worth a whole lot but he had hoped someday they would be. One of the paintings was called “Old Man Against the Raging Sea.” It depicted an old man with a flowing white beard in a row boat fighting to stay afloat in a raging storm out to sea. There was activity in the picture unbeknownst to Jim, who was oblivious to the movement still blind with rage.

  The old man in the painting had turned and was now staring directly at Jim with wild demented eyes. He was three times the size of the original figure, his eyes glowing red.

  Jim was still unaware of what was happening as his eyes were transfixed on the fire and his thoughts were of his departed wife and daughter.

  Suddenly the figure in the painting spoke. “I heard you've been looking for me. Well, here I am.” The voice seemed to echo in the dimly lit room.

  Jim still didn't notice or even look in the direction of the painting.

  “I said, I heard you've been looking for me,” the hideous figure yelled angrily as a bright beam of red light emanated from the painting.

  Jim thought he was losing his mind, but still mumbled, “what do you mean?”

  “I'm the one you seek. I'm the evil fiend that killed your precious wife and daughter. She begged for her life and bled like a stuck pig when I made her cut her own throat after I had snuffed the life out of her precious little one.. Ha, ha, ha...!” The grotesques figure laughed with delight.

  Jim, overcome with blinding rage, raced toward the painting but was immediately knocked across the room by some unseen force. He lie on the floor helplessly looking at the devil in the painting who by this time had transported himself out of the painting and was standing in front of it.

  “I should have killed you as well, but you are already dead and in your own hell. Living with the knowledge that you cannot get the revenge you seek is worse than dying.” He started to laugh again, tormenting Jim.

  “I'll kill you!!” Jim screamed and ran toward the devil. Once again he was struck down.

  “You can't kill me. Kill yourself, that's the only way you can be free.”

  “No, I won't,” Jim yelled.

  “It is the only way! Do it!”

  “No, I can't let you win!”

  “Do it!”

  “No!!

  The next thing Jim knew the room was spinning around, the painting caught on fire, as he watched, stunned. It burned red hot for a few seconds leaving Jim laying on the floor a terrified but unbeaten man. The painting burst into a ball of flames and disappeared.

  Jim knew the truth now, it would be hard, but somehow he felt he could go on.

  A painting of an old man fighting the raging sea hung in an art gallery across town.

  The Good Girl

  Debbie Clark was a good girl, or at least she always thought that she was. She didn't smoke, drink, or even have sex. Every time the door of her neighborhood Baptist Church would open, she would be right there, listening to the word. Her Bible had been read so many times it was almost worn out. There were high lights on top of high lights in the dog-tailed pages of her very own Good Book.

  Being a good girl, Debbie was always on the lookout for a good man, then her life would be complete. They would have a beautiful wedding, and raise a house full of good children, who would grow up to do the same. In a perfect world, that's what would happen. But it's not a perfect world and Debbie would find out the hard way.

  Enter John Meacham, a tall good looking guy who from every aspect of his appearance and demeanor exuded, even oozed goodness himself.

  Debbie had been noticing John and at the urging of her best friend Rebecca, she had decided she wanted to meet him. “Look at him, over there. Don't look.” Rebecca said, wanting Debbie to notice the handsome young man, but didn't want him to notice they were noticing him. “He's cute. You should talk to him. You know, say hello.”

  “What about you, Rebecca? Why don't you talk to him?”

  “I already have a boyfriend, David.”

  “David?”

  “Yeah, but he doesn't know it.”

  “I'll be sure and tell him.”

  “Look at him. Don't look. I could just eat him up.” Rachael said, Debbie didn't understand being naive about sexual matters, gave her a puzzled look. “Sop him up with a biscuit and some gravy. um... um.”

  “Rebecca, I really don't think church is the place to be saying such things, if at all.”

  “Oh, don't be such a square. Loosen up. You're not planning on being a virgin all your life, are you?”

  Shocked by her friend's remarks. “Until I get married. Like it says in the Bible.”

  “What's up with you and the Bible? The Bible this, the Bible that. Can't you think on your o
wn?”

  “It is the word of God, Rebecca. Everything I need to know is written there. You should try reading it.”

  “You sound like my parents.”

  “You should listen to them.”

  After the service Debbie did take her friends advice and spoke to John, who said he'd been noticing her and asked her to dinner and a movie the following Saturday night.

  Debbie was so excited. She bought a new dress and a pair of shoes, just for the occasion. “He could be the one,” she said to herself, “He's very handsome and I met him at church. He must be a good boy.”

  All week long she thought of nothing but John and their date on Saturday night. “I think my bride's maids will be in blue. I like blue,” she daydreamed, while she was supposed to be listening to her teacher. “I think two children will be just right. A nice little house on the outskirts of town, with a white picket fence, that's where we'll live.”

  John on the other hand was having quite a different conversation with himself, having second thoughts, he wondered had he made the right decision. “I don't know about that Debbie. Maybe I should cancel our date. She's such a goody two-shoes, always in church. She's probably going to be a waste of my time and money.”

  Saturday night finally came and John picked Debbie up at her house driving his father's Ford Focus.

  He tooted his horn and Debbie come flying out of her front door in her brand new dress looking every bit the prim and proper young lady that she was.

  If John had been a gentleman, he would have come inside to meet Debbie's folks. But as a matter of fact, he specifically didn't want to meet them, especially the father. He really didn't want to play twenty questions with her old man about where was he taking his little girl and what time were they going to be home. After meeting the parents he then should have escorted his date to the car and opened the door for her. If he was a gentleman, which he wasn't. The signs were there, but Debbie didn't notice.

  They had a beautiful dinner at a nice Italian restaurant. She had lasagna, he had the spaghetti. He seemed very nice, talking about school and how he wanted to go to college and be a doctor. “A doctor.” Debbie said to herself, while she was finishing up the last of her meal. “Handsome and rich. He's the one for me, all right.”

  The movie was a different story. Even though it was rated PG, it still was a little racy for Debbie, The theme had sexual overtones that made her uncomfortable, but John was really in to it, which concerned her somewhat, but she didn't read anything into his behavior. “Boys will be boys,” she thought. “A doctor.” She kept thinking about his plans for the future, which she hoped included her.

  They left the movie just before midnight and Debbie assumed he was taking her home. She had had a good time and she thought he had a good time as well. “Maybe, he'll kiss me goodnight. That would be nice. A little kiss after a perfect evening.” She was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside as they drove out of the movie theater parking lot. This had been the first date of a relationship that would last forever. She could already see them with the kids growing up, going to college and finally the two of them sitting in twin rocking chairs enjoying their golden years together. It was going to be so wonderful.

  Then she noticed something wasn't right. “This is not the way to my house,” she said, somewhat concerned. “where are we going, John?”

  “Relax, relax, Debbie, just a little short cut.”

  She calmed a little but as they drove on started to realize it was no short cut. “Where are we going John?”

  “Okay, it's not a short cut. Just a little place I know where we can be alone. You know, get to know each other a little better.”

  “Take me home John,” Debbie pleaded.

  But he didn't. Before she could say much more he had wheeled his daddy's Focus into secluded dark woodlands and quickly parked the car. His whole demeanor had changed from the nice handsome boy to some kind of monster. At least that's the way he looked to poor Debbie. “Come here, baby,” John said, in a voice that seemed out of character. “Give me a little kiss.” Then he laughed like a mad man. He grabbed Debbie and started kissing her and pulling at her brand new dress.

  “Stop, please stop!” She yelled but John didn't listen. He kept on until he tore her dress. She screamed. She fought hard to free herself from his grasp, but he was very strong and determined. She scratched and punched, screaming as loud as she could, when she could. Finally she was able to free herself, jumped out of the car and ran for her life. She ran like she had never ran until she was far away and on the main road. She saw headlights. Flagging the car down, she got in with a nice old lady, who took her home.

  John just drove home like nothing had happened. He was later arrested.

  But poor Debbie, so traumatized, she was never the same. She never trusted men for the rest of her life. She lived to be eighty and died alone. But remained a good girl until the end.

  The Journal

  It was spring at last, all the trees had started to turn from brown to green, the last remnants of the winter's snow had melted. Seth Harmon walked along the river whose bank was swollen by the melting snow, the water lapped his feet, the sun high in the morning sky.

  He had left his life behind in Los Angeles, a painful memory burned in his brain as he walked, trying to forget it, but not having any luck, Scenes flashed through his tortured mind like bits of a horror movie or a terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from.

  He stopped at a big rock to rest, sat down and pulled a pen and an old weathered brown book out of his backpack, He wrote in his journal: “It is the second day now since I left them. I am feeling less tense, more free. The river is beautiful, the air is clean, I should have done it sooner. I am happy. It is done.”

  Returning the book to his backpack, he surveyed the land. It seemed to be no one around for miles, a perfect getaway. He was someone who really needed to disappear, forget about the past, start a new life. He would find a new family, one that loved and respected him. One that understood a man like him.

  There was a sudden rustling in a small bush behind him, Seth almost jumped out of his skin, but a few seconds later laughed at himself when he realized it was just a rabbit. The fury little creature eyed him curiously, decided he wasn't a threat, and leisurely hopped away.

  His nerves were definitely on edge. “Get a grip, Seth,” he chided himself, “no one knows you're here.” Glancing around he noticed with great satisfaction, he was still alone, not a soul around for miles. He took a deep breath. He was feeling calm now, more at peace than he had in years. A big smile came over his face, not a happy smile, a more sadistic one.

  He pulled a newspaper out of his back pack, he read the headline with great interest. As he read the article, he had a faraway look in his eyes. At one point he actually began to laugh, maniacally, almost uncontrollably. “That bitch and those little bastards got exactly what they deserved.” He laughed some more.

  Finishing the article, he folded the newspaper with special care and placed it back in his bag. He was feeling hungry so he pulled an energy bar out of his pack, unwrapped it, and enjoyed the first bite, savoring it like it was a gourmet meal. “Even this candy bar is better than the slop that bitch used to serve me.”

  From out of nowhere, suddenly he heard the sound of distant rifle fire, a round hit the rocks near where he stood. Horror and disbelief gripped him as his whole world suddenly had been thrown into chaos. He dove behind the rock and pulled a .45 cal pistol out of his waistband. There were more shots hitting all around him as he stuck his gun up and returned fired himself. . He couldn't believe they had found him.

  “Throw down your weapon, we've got you surrounded. There is no escape.” Someone yelled over a bull horn.

  “Never. You'll never take me alive. I won't go to prison.” He pulled his journal out of his backpack and scrawled one final entry. “Looks like this is it. I'll never let them take me alive. I'll go out in a blaze of glory, like a cowboy. Goodbye.” Putting
the book back in his pack he stood up and started blasting away. He was soon cut down in a hail of gunfire.

  Then there was quiet. The men who had been tracking him eased up on his position to find the subject of their manhunt lying dead on the ground in a pool of blood. A .45 pistol lay on the ground, the officer kicked it away, felt for a pulse and determined he was dead. “Crazy son of a bitch is dead. Save the state the cost of his trial. Hard to believe this guy killed his whole family in cold blood.”

  The Magical Island

  Glistening, flickering, effervescent light played on the glass-like surface of the clear blue waters of the bay. The sun, a huge multicolored ball peeked its head out from behind the horizon to usher in a brand new day. My small, but seaworthy craft cut through the surface of the aqua blue and green water like a knife.

  On my starboard side a school of dolphins played, while a flock of seagulls flew overhead. All was peaceful and calm, I had settled in for a beautiful morning navigating the smooth clear waters of San Diego Bay. I could practically sail those waters blindfolded, having did so many times before. “What a glorious day,” I said out loud. “Nothing in the whole wide world could spoil this beautiful day.”

  Those words had just left my mouth when suddenly out of nowhere the skies darkened, the wind started to blow, the seas were no longer smooth and calm but increasingly choppy. Just as suddenly there was lightning and thunder, a violent storm blew in from the west with a vengeance.

  My tiny craft was tossed to and fro as I fought with the wheel to keep it upright in the turbulent waters and also to keep her from crashing into the rocks that threatened to crush the life out of her and me as well. The skies turned black as night, the winds howled like a freight train, I feared I may perish, and never be seen or heard from again.