The Story of a Killer as he continues his quest to rid the world of the people whom he considers undesirable, having committed sins that society should never forgive. It is now some time since David Black stopped his executions. However, his beliefs never altered. A recent report caused him to reconsider, and he decided to continue his quest against convicted paedophiles! In what some may consider luxurious living, a few years in prison, often an open prison, is not a severe enough punishment in our killer's view. Planning the killings precisely so that the law will have no lead and little idea of how to stop his executions is still paramount. The case frustrates the police as ordinary people hail the killer as the People's Judge. There seems to be no end to candidates that require "The People's Justice."
Genre: FICTION / CrimeWalking out of the front door behind him, I extracted the pistol and glanced down to take off the safety, and then as we came in line with the front of the house, I centred the gun in line with the bottom of his skull in the centre and fired twice from a distance of half an inch. He folded up like a rag doll and was dead before he hit the ground, which was obvious to me. Bending down, I picked up the two empty cartridges.
As I turned toward the car to get the hell out of here, believing the body would most likely be found by the gardener tomorrow, I heard a shrill voice and fast footsteps coming from the potting shed. A little old lady was quite fast approaching me. The horror of horrors, I thought, the damn potting lady, why on earth had he not said she was here today?
I heard some popping sound, so I came out and said she, standing in front of me, asked me what had happened and why he was lying there on the steps. I immediately replied, “I had my back to him, lady; he must have had a heart attack or something else, perhaps, do you think? Why not investigate if he is breathing? I shall call for an ambulance.”
I already knew that she had to die too, she had seen my face, my car, and she was bright, switched on without a doubt. She was an innocent person, but everything flashed through my mind, spend the rest of my life in prison or not. Following her muttering my concern for her to hear, I took the pistol. I executed the old lady hesitantly like he had met his demise.
I picked up the empty cartridges and then fetched the usual note from the car to place under his coat. Feeling sick at what I had been forced to do but having little time to think about it, I slowly drove out of the driveway and was glad that on the tarmac road, not another vehicle was in sight.
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German
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Ute Hieksch
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