SPEAKER: COLIN RUSH
SETTING: HIS HOME ON 6TH STREET, HOUSE NUMBER 3635, HIS OFFICE
TIME: 5:27, 6:08, 10:01
DATE: APRIL, 11
Today was suppose to be,
like all Saturday's,
my bloody day off!
Oh dear lord.
My fist,
heavy with sleep,
beaten to death another alarm clock.
I really need to stop doing that.
It was not the alarm's fault,
it was mine.
I take responsibility.
I forgot to turn it off.
But that was not the reason,
not at all,
for my attitude this morning.
Something else was.
The broken clock aside,
me nested in my bed,
I tried to go back to sleep.
But unable to.
On the bed stand,
next to a glass of water,
my cell phone laid,
the lights flashing on the wall.
Tired,
and not really wanting to wake up,
I check it who was,
then moaned in regret.
It was Ron James.
My boss.
I was asking myself why he was calling me,
this early.
Once the phone,
snugly against my ear,
was activated,
I listened in intend to what was said.
To the most part,
from what I heard,
I have to get my ass down there,
to see something unbelievable.
Unbelievable?
What is that anymore?
With the world how it is,
nothing is.
But,
when you have a job,
you have to do it.
I wish I did not have to today.
Flash forward some time,
me being washed up and clean,
with my canister filled with coffee,
and driving down to the scene.
It took some time,
me getting lost a bit,
till I found it:
3635 A. Road.
Once the car was parked,
and I was able to see,
I got past threw the security,
and found my boss.
Huge,
had a weird odor,
and should drop a few pounds.
Yeah, that describes him.
He looked up from a clip board,
containing note I assume,
and motioned me to wait a few.
He would be right over.
I looked around the scene,
absorbing the area.
The first thing I noticed,
was the travel morgue there.
It is rare,
I must confess,
that I see them.
This ought to be fun.
He walked over,
his stomach jiggling,
as he told me what he knew.
This ought to be a bore.
To sum it all up,
in a nice package,
this city has a new murderer
that has the name of Chelsea Grin.
Wondering why,
my brain not completely awake,
it was named Chelsea Grin.
He showed me.
He took me inside,
the house smelling musty,
to a bedroom that was cold,
with a window busted open.
On the bed it laid,
covered with a black bag.
It had some blood underneath,
giving me the sign.
He motioned everyone to leave,
and closed the window.
It was him and I.
Welcome to his nightmare.
He showed me the body,
and I nearly fainted.
To save you the fears,
I will explain about the grin.
Chelsea Grin,
in simple terms,
is someone cutting you,
in the checks to give you a smile.
A smile she had,
and the blood had stained.
Looked like someone likes comics,
when they have to deal with Bats and Jokers.
I took a step back,
making sure I did not hit anything.
I stared at the face,
a true flash of horrorshow.
I asked him,
with my voice caked with shock,
what we know about him,
and what possible motives.
He said her name was Amy Judd.
She was young,
obviously beautiful,
and so someone had thought.
He said that it was a sex thing.
Some weird fetish he assumed.
From how the other cuts are,
this was not pretty.
The only other thing I noticed,
while I was looking at the body,
was the dissemblance skin
right around her midsection.
A few hours later,
with about a gallon of coffee in my body,
I sit at my desk,
trying to type out paperwork.
For the most part,
it was empty.
My desk I mean.
I have nothing to put on.
No Pictures.
No Plaques.
No...
Nothing.
It is not that I am a failure,
please understand that.
I just really hate showing off.
That is all.
The paper I was suppose to be writing,
on my day off,
was about the corpse,
and what I think will happen.
But first thing is first:
How the fuck can I describe what I saw?
For the most part,
I couldn't.
From what I told you,
to be honest,
was not all the details.
Not even a sample.
I can not bare myself to think of her,
being the state she was in.
I could only think,
and wonder a question.
That question is:
Who would do this?
Who,
and why?
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