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The Black Journal (Reconstructed Classroom, Industrial Area, Downtown)

Thursday, 12:15 P.M.


Ah, Det. Frost!
Perfect, you’re here.
OK, since we’re all present, let’s get started.
Follow me, the body is this way.
So, Det. Frost, have you ever dissected a frog?
In high school, perhaps?
Then, how about a teacher?
Ever dissect a teacher?

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#amwriting · blog · The Black Journal · The Red Journal

The Black Journal (Jamestown Police Department, Captains Office)

Thursday, 11:11 A.M.

Frost, hey…come in, sit down.
Listen, you’re up.
Downstairs just called.
Someone’s found a body.
They say this one’s a smidge above their pay grade. 
So, I’m going to need you to take the lead.
Captain!
What about my vacation?
You know it starts tomorrow.
You know how long I’ve been planning for this.

My wife’s going to kill me.
I don’t even take vacations, and she finally convinced me.
Oh, she’s killing me. I am just as dead as this vic.
Calm Down, calm down!
Cap, you’re the one who put this trip in her mind.

I’m sorry Frost, I realize that.
And, it wasn’t me, it was my lovely wife. At your party.
Deal with it Frost, you’re a big boy. She’ll understand. What can I say?
This stuff happens in our world.
You signed up for this. Now, stop your whining.
Take a look in that folder. It’s what we know so far.
You’re going to owe me Cap.
Promise me an extra three weeks right here on the spot and I’ll do an about-face.
We won’t have to discuss anything further and I’ll do my job and hopefully save my marriage at the same time.

We’ll talk about it Frost. No promises.
Remember, I am your superior. I can just order you.
Alright, alright…let me see the damn file.
Geez, why can’t serial killers be like teachers and take the summer off
?
Yeah, about that Frost.
The vic…
…he’s a teacher.

#amwriting · blog · fiction · The Red Journal

The Red Journal (Downtown, Some Sleazy Bar)

WEDNESDAY, 10:19 A.M.

It’s been a few days.
All still remains quiet in my little neighborhood.
Not that I am concerned or surprised.
People here are so stupid.
I’m at this shithole of a bar.
For a message from a friend. It stinks…bad!
As instructed.
Third table on the left, by the back window.
The bartender will bring only a napkin.
Ah, good man, right on time.
I’m a stickler for punctuality.
And, it seems I’m getting much better at this.
I’ve been informed the chap from the other night was a teacher.
Teachers can be bad too.
Nonetheless, he had it coming.
Let’s just say, we all have lessons to learn…

The Red Journal

The Red Journal (The Diner, Afterwards)

MONDAY, 08:35 A.M.

Should I even order coffee?
I hate coffee.
This place does look like it could serve a half-decent pot.
I guess I’ll have to get something just to blend in with these people.
Great, now the waitress is staring at me?
Does she know?
OK, now she’s tapping her pen.
I’m really not in the mood for her right now.
She’s bringing on a headache.
All I can think about is the success of last night.
Yes, I drank cheap disgusting booze with cheap disgusting strangers. But, I prepared for that.
I did go over the line with killing that guy.
Had to though, had to get closer.
And, I did…