Blind Stalker.

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Blind Stalker

The Blind Stalker was trailing the women with the rare blind spot. One of the women’s scenes was coming to an end. He dressed in vermilion while he stalked her on the chase. He walked along the long loose lace, which was coming to a tragic end, underneath was the headless chicken, he chased. He swung round on the long pole with the moonlight shining on the sapphire sharp steel blade reflecting into the eyes of evil. Her eyes splattered in cold magma with the scream of an eagle as the echo of her pain ricocheted off each building on her way to her grave. She lay in terror waiting for death but the hospital came in time. A letter was left which lay sealed next to the blind body.

The shivery detectives, seeing the living body with no eyes stood at the crime scene with goose pimples and searched for evidence. An envelope with a vermilion coloured ribbon hanging out next to the dirty, damp, drain. The envelope fell in the drain but the ribbon got caught on the side and the letter was saved. One of the detective’s eyes spotted the ribbon and slowly; smoothly; steadily pulled out the letter. The forensics took it straight to the laboratory: the underworld, where physics and great mathematics is formed in which scientists figure out the evil developing in the world.

Acid all over. A slight sneeze and your day will end.

The detectives were curious to read the letter to see if it matched with the others. A thought swam into the detective’s head; why did the felon leave the missive? The visually impaired woman can’t read so maybe; just maybe the letter is for us.

The dedicated detectives deliberated as they travelled to the laboratory to fetch the missive. When they got there, they found an unpleasant view of a blind, bloody, body of an earlier victim. The sight was so ugly that the sickening yellow vomit came from the stomach, up the oesophagus through the throat in her mulchy mouth. One of the detectives sprinted out of the double doors like a scarab beetle, while the other sighted the opened letter which highlighted “The stick is your life; your life is the stick. Not aware of the Stalker but he surrounds you and acts recklessly. It is the death walk you carry, one wrong foot and your soul will resurrect.”  The initials embossed with blood at the end of the message “B.S.” The determined detective was glad that the letter was the same and therefore led to the same perpetrator but was disappointed, as there were no further clues.

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Walking up and down the small sleepy room, with frustrated walls, in a fearful mood with no new clues than the last hour. Ten unsolved mysterious blind files; next to each one was a coloured ribbon. The eleventh case, which was the root of all branches, made no sense what so ever. They all lay on the four legged table.

No connection between the ribbons and letters! The seething detective sweating from his eyes, into his mouth tasting like cherry was actually blood. Some of it dripped on to the vermilion ribbon giving him an instant thought that vermilion ...

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