They say everyone goes through a phase of being fascinated by serial killers, the ones portrayed in series and films. Whether it’s Hannibal, Dexter, Joe from You, Mindhunter, or Dahmer, the era of serial killers has been captivating. While we all agree that those who take lives deserve to face justice, and perhaps even lose their own lives in return, that’s just a side opinion. We cannot glorify killers.
As a psychology major, creative artist, and avid reader, I too fell into the era of being mesmerised by serial killer characters. This fascination led me to create my own version of a serial character. After reading countless stories and collecting a wealth of information, I yearned to bring this dark world into a universe similar to my own. Without giving away any spoilers, I pondered, “What if?” The result was an intriguing short book titled The Photographer.
I love photography; it captures still moments, and within those moments, entire stories can emerge. It is said that every time we take a photograph, we capture a piece of our soul. My journey was to make that statement somewhat a reality. I will be sharing chapters of my writing. Though it exists within my world, just as the photographer captures life through the lens, I invite you, the reader, to invade this photographer’s world and witness the moments when he or she believes no one is looking.
You will be the witness.
Chapter ONE: “Through the Lens”
It was never within Thomas to lose his cool, but he did; now he had to clean up the mess. Calmly, as if nothing was amiss, he took a deep breath, almost sighing, and picked up his iPod. He went to his wardrobe and pulled out one of his favourite Nike jerseys. He zipped it up, tilted his neck back and forth as if stretching it, and opened the door without looking back. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said, then the door banged shut behind him.
He loved audiobooks; they had helped him understand the world and the psychology of humans a bit better. Audiobooks always made him feel like he could fit in, whatever that meant, he thought. He had been jogging for almost 35 minutes now. When he decided to take a short breath, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Calmly, he turned slightly while continuing to walk.
“It’s her,” he thought. “I’ve been calling you for hours, but with those things on, you haven’t heard a thing.”
Calmly, he responded, “Hey, I’m so sorry. When I’m jogging with the headphones on, I tend to focus… until the end.”
“I’ve noticed,” she smiled. She had a beautiful smile, Thomas thought. “I didn’t see you yesterday,” she said, almost as if asking a question.
“Oh, now you check up on me… interesting,” Thomas thought. “No, I was feeling a little bit lazy yesterday, so I decided to just do some work and watch some movies.”
“Ah, damn. I didn’t get an invite?” She pushed her hair back; she had been dropping hints for him to invite her to his place for a long while now, Thomas thought. “I like her…”
“Well, now that I know you want an invite, next time I’ll be sure to invite you.”
“You better. I gave you my number weeks ago, but you haven’t contacted me once.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You better contact me, okay?”
“I will.”
She waved goodbye and took a different route. He looked at her for a while, knowing she wanted him to watch. Thomas walked a little further and sat on a bench for a while. He had been running for almost an hour now but still no sweat. He always had a problem with sweating, just couldn’t get those sweat glands to work, no matter what he did. He stood up and ran back to his place. As soon as he took off his shoes by the door, he saw women’s shoes there. It hit him: “Fuck, I left someone inside the house.”
Shoes were not allowed inside his house. He opened the door, and there she was, still tied up as he had left her.
“Hey,” there was a mumbling noise. Thomas looked at her. He thought, “Another skinny one, fuck. Now it looks like I have a type.”
“I hope you didn’t try to escape.” He chuckled a little to himself. He went to his wardrobe and came back with a small, fancy suitcase. He opened it, revealing medical tools of every type alongside cosmetics. He pulled out a syringe and a small bottle of liquid. He drew the substance into the syringe.
The tied-up girl wiggled and struggled upon seeing what was about to happen.
“Shhh! Now, this won’t hurt a bit. You won’t feel a thing.” There was more mumbling and shuffling. “Stop that now, you’re going to make a mess again.” Thomas walked up to her. He pushed the syringe into her neck, slowly. Second by second, she passed out. He felt for a heartbeat. It was no longer there. He nodded, “That was quick.” He untied her and laid her on his table. He undressed her. “Blue underwear, not my favourite colour, but fucking hot. A tattoo, I didn’t see you as the type. A bear, wow, cute. Now, how to make you look prettier.”
He played his music and went to work. Time passed, and he sighed deeply.
“Phew! Done.”
Thomas walked out of the room and went straight to the shower. He turned it on, and as the water dripped on him, he began to bathe and relax.
© JC Zondi 2019,2022, 2024
End of chapter