Fallen Song- Chapter 1
Fallen Song (Chapter One)The following excerpt is under copyright, (2013,) any copying or redistribution without consent is strictly prohibited.
Chapter 11.
Tomahawk of death… the machine rises, and the beating of my heart signifies the end. I clutch it in my hand, once lost for generations it has returned. I see darkness fading, and it signifies the promise of a better day.Through the end, I shall get the glory I seek. I am the machine, and the sharpened blade of my tomahawk is the equalizer, the destroyer, the carnivore. It feeds upon fear. When at last I swing it downwards, it will be so very sublime. All about will be gray matter and crimson blood, covering the surface of the final scene.They should feel privileged. This legendary artifact has sent many to their impending doom. It breathes, as it is alive. I myself can testify to its voracious character… as it dispatches the wicked, I hear it singing in my fist. Long ago there was an occasion when I wielded its fury, and my soul ignited with a power that was not me, but my ax It clove through Franklin Rossi’s skull like a razor, ending the smug little prick’s miserable existence in one fell swoop. Now it wants another and tonight it will get what it wants, sending them to nevermore. Franklin was not the first, oh no. There have been many sweet victories for my trusty ancient friend and me. The weapon trembles in sheer delight when it spills the blood of an evildoer like Frank, smug little fucking Frank with his dark little secret. The first time I saw him in the park, he had this air about him that to my clever trained eye gave me immediate knowledge as to his true nature; Frank, that sick deviant asshole. I did some digging for confirmation, and it had appeared that a whole string of missing boys and girls, all less than seven years old, had mystically followed Franklin wherever he had gone. For almost twenty years he hid behind the scene, orchestrating his vile deeds. He started in Detroit, around 1990 as far as I could confirm, although I think his deviance may have stretched farther into his sordid past.Rossi was working at an auto parts plant at the time. Authorities discovered a young boy in a ditch in the early morning not far from the plant. There were bite marks on his back, and he had been severely beaten and mutilated.
I found out about Rossi by chance, as I passed him sitting in the park near Alki beach one day. This was in my former hometown of Seattle, Washington. I took his picture, and then proceeded to do some digging into his background.
I made a call to a Detective Starkey in the homicide department, to get some perspective on Rossi, who was under investigation. Apparently the murder in question was burned into Starkey’s memory banks, the prime of the unfortunate detective’s life was stripped away by one ghastly murder scene. Starkey had known the boy. He had been in the same Cub Scout den as his son Ray. The young victim knew Starkey’s son. The murdered boy was named Marco, a good baseball player. Starkey’s heart was broken by the hideousness of Marco’s remains. The reality hit close to home, and doomed Starkey to frequently lay on his back in shrink’s offices from then on out. Soon enough, Ray Starkey found himself on the wrong end of a bottle and divorce… it nearly ended his career. Rossi later moved to Seattle, where I first encountered him. I prefer to think of those times as my fledgling years… It was a period where I sat on a discovery that I would have been unable to predict in 100,000 years. My trusty friend and I ended Frank’s tyranny in one fell swoop. As Frank's life essence filled the blade, it was as a song. It was an ode to Marco and the others, a sweet crimson symphony. I sent a file to Starkey, with scans of all the documents I had gathered on Rossi- indisputable proof of what kind of monster he was. Among the files were the photos of bite mark impressions I forensically matched to Rossi, and the marks on Marcos. I saved them on a flash drive, along with a notepad document with one short message, “Rest well, Franklin Rossi is no more.”I have not heard from Starkey, although I would not at all be surprised that he knew it was me. The timing was quick, my questions still fresh in his mind. Due to my employment as a CSI investigator, Starkey had to know I could match the bites conclusively in a matter of hours or days.
I rest well knowing that I have removed monsters like Franklin Rossi from the Cosmos. It fills me with gratitude. The predators I strike down will not be harming anyone else. Justice is served.
(Interested? Click the link and get Fallen Song today!)
http://www.amazon.com/Fallen-Song-Stygia--Volume-ebook/dp/B00CWTQM68/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1377211130&sr=8-1&keywords=Fallen+Song
Chapter 11.
Tomahawk of death… the machine rises, and the beating of my heart signifies the end. I clutch it in my hand, once lost for generations it has returned. I see darkness fading, and it signifies the promise of a better day.Through the end, I shall get the glory I seek. I am the machine, and the sharpened blade of my tomahawk is the equalizer, the destroyer, the carnivore. It feeds upon fear. When at last I swing it downwards, it will be so very sublime. All about will be gray matter and crimson blood, covering the surface of the final scene.They should feel privileged. This legendary artifact has sent many to their impending doom. It breathes, as it is alive. I myself can testify to its voracious character… as it dispatches the wicked, I hear it singing in my fist. Long ago there was an occasion when I wielded its fury, and my soul ignited with a power that was not me, but my ax It clove through Franklin Rossi’s skull like a razor, ending the smug little prick’s miserable existence in one fell swoop. Now it wants another and tonight it will get what it wants, sending them to nevermore. Franklin was not the first, oh no. There have been many sweet victories for my trusty ancient friend and me. The weapon trembles in sheer delight when it spills the blood of an evildoer like Frank, smug little fucking Frank with his dark little secret. The first time I saw him in the park, he had this air about him that to my clever trained eye gave me immediate knowledge as to his true nature; Frank, that sick deviant asshole. I did some digging for confirmation, and it had appeared that a whole string of missing boys and girls, all less than seven years old, had mystically followed Franklin wherever he had gone. For almost twenty years he hid behind the scene, orchestrating his vile deeds. He started in Detroit, around 1990 as far as I could confirm, although I think his deviance may have stretched farther into his sordid past.Rossi was working at an auto parts plant at the time. Authorities discovered a young boy in a ditch in the early morning not far from the plant. There were bite marks on his back, and he had been severely beaten and mutilated.
I found out about Rossi by chance, as I passed him sitting in the park near Alki beach one day. This was in my former hometown of Seattle, Washington. I took his picture, and then proceeded to do some digging into his background.
I made a call to a Detective Starkey in the homicide department, to get some perspective on Rossi, who was under investigation. Apparently the murder in question was burned into Starkey’s memory banks, the prime of the unfortunate detective’s life was stripped away by one ghastly murder scene. Starkey had known the boy. He had been in the same Cub Scout den as his son Ray. The young victim knew Starkey’s son. The murdered boy was named Marco, a good baseball player. Starkey’s heart was broken by the hideousness of Marco’s remains. The reality hit close to home, and doomed Starkey to frequently lay on his back in shrink’s offices from then on out. Soon enough, Ray Starkey found himself on the wrong end of a bottle and divorce… it nearly ended his career. Rossi later moved to Seattle, where I first encountered him. I prefer to think of those times as my fledgling years… It was a period where I sat on a discovery that I would have been unable to predict in 100,000 years. My trusty friend and I ended Frank’s tyranny in one fell swoop. As Frank's life essence filled the blade, it was as a song. It was an ode to Marco and the others, a sweet crimson symphony. I sent a file to Starkey, with scans of all the documents I had gathered on Rossi- indisputable proof of what kind of monster he was. Among the files were the photos of bite mark impressions I forensically matched to Rossi, and the marks on Marcos. I saved them on a flash drive, along with a notepad document with one short message, “Rest well, Franklin Rossi is no more.”I have not heard from Starkey, although I would not at all be surprised that he knew it was me. The timing was quick, my questions still fresh in his mind. Due to my employment as a CSI investigator, Starkey had to know I could match the bites conclusively in a matter of hours or days.
I rest well knowing that I have removed monsters like Franklin Rossi from the Cosmos. It fills me with gratitude. The predators I strike down will not be harming anyone else. Justice is served.
(Interested? Click the link and get Fallen Song today!)
http://www.amazon.com/Fallen-Song-Stygia--Volume-ebook/dp/B00CWTQM68/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1377211130&sr=8-1&keywords=Fallen+Song
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