Would you know if there was a killer among you? A wolf in
sheep's clothing just waiting to howl out their sins?
I don't suppose you would. But neither did they.
Someone had closed the eyes. The horrified expression was
now gone from the victim’s face. She looked to be asleep. You wouldn’t have
believed it, if it wasn’t for all of the blood. How could so much blood come
from one body? The holes in her skin told of a messy end. After the second
shot, she was already dead. That's what a bullet to the brain will do. The
other thirteen had been futile. The scene spoke of rage and hate. She was
wearing a white wedding dress, but never quite made it to the altar. The body
had been abandoned on the grey concrete train track. Now stained with red.
Night had fallen upon the train railway near the church, as
the body lay there. She might have been pushed. Or maybe it was her escape?
Perhaps she may have literally missed the train.
“What a sight,” said
policeman Brian, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It looks like a blow
to the head resulting in major blood loss. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it.
But detective, there is still hope for you to find whoever was behind this
homicide,” said the medical examiner.
“So, what do you conclude, detective?” Said Brian.
“Let us discuss this matter in my office. I have profiles of
the victims, and I’ve identified two potential suspects. Her fiancée, John
Wright, and the priest who was set to marry them.”
Victim:
Last seen wearing a wedding dress.
A young woman around 28 years of age.
Pale skin and fair hair.
Short in stature.
She met John Wright at a dinner party, since then no serious problems have been
mentioned in their relationship.
Known as a vibrant, yet reserved woman who got along well with many people.
Reported to be a non-drinker. Though her glass was filled on the day of her
wedding. Maybe the glass is always half full when it's filled with blood. An
optimistic murder perhaps?
Priest:
Has been known to be a man of true faith.
He has been in the Priesthood for many of years.
Mature in age and life experience.
He has never missed a Sunday service yet.
A well-spoken man who is trusted by many, perhaps even too trusted.
Maybe four Hail Mary’s were enough to erase this sin from his conscience?
John Wright (Fiance):
An articulate man who speaks with a slight rasp.
He’s 34 years of age.
He doesn’t drink, but smokes a pack a day.
He had been single for a while due to his commitment to his job.
Had been in a long-term relationship with the victim, and was overjoyed to be
marrying her.
Stated no issues in the relationship prior to the wedding.
But dearly beloved is now deathly beloved. Perhaps he loved her to death?
After all was investigated, there was a sharp and persistent
banging on the door, as if the person's knuckles were about to cave into the
room.
"Enter", said the detective calmly.
A police officer entered in a fluster, "Detective! The
forensic evidence has been examined. There were no traces of the victim's
fiancée or the priest found at the crime scene.”
The rain began to fall increasingly heavily, as though it
were calling the culprit. The detective bit her lip, with her eyes dancing to
every corner.
“I’m afraid that this murder will have to remain a mystery
for the time being. And Mr. Wright, had you by chance arranged to marry another
bride on your wedding?”
“No, of course not… Why do you ask?” Said Mr. Wright,
puzzled.
“There was another bride seen on the day of your wedding”,
said the detective, perplexed.
Lurking in the distance was a dark shadow-like figure dressed
in a floor length, laced black wedding dress, with a dark veil which hid her
face completely. Peering through the opaque veil revealed eyes of the palest
watery blue, like a creature who's spent its life in a perpetual shadow. She was
holding black roses, exposing her unnaturally long thin fingers, each like the
tendril of a parasitic plant. She moved silently and solemnly as if the funeral
march was her wedding song.
When the bride in black reached the altar, she pulled an
eerie smile and uttered a cold whisper, “It should have been me”, and ghostly
singing, “Here comes the bride.”
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