The Restless Burrows | Comments Welcome

[MrNyarlathotep]

A series of mirthful faces dotted the corkboard wall. Thirteen in total, six brunettes , four red heads and three blondes. All female and all in their late twenties. They were from different eras, different decades, different backgrounds but their photos had all ended up on the wall nonetheless. Margret stared at their visages every day with equal measure of disgust and desire. This case piqued her interest in a way that no other case did. It had stymied the Buffalo police department for more than fifty years, long before Marget had ever enrolled in the academy.

There were times where she swore she could hear their voices beckon her to a fate she tried dutifully to avoid, fought against at every turn but it ate at her in the recesses of her mind. The desire for truth and closure sometimes outweighed humanity’s natural instinct for survival.

It was an hour and a half car ride to her father’s cabin along the backroads of upstate New York. A desolate, isolated place that hadn’t changed much since the days of the Mohawk and the Mohicans. Margret’s family had owned the cabin since the late nineteen forties. Her great grandfather had bought it after he returned from the war. She had only been there a handful of times in her youth. It was a small two room affair made of cedar with a main room and a small bathroom. The anachronistic comforter on the metal army cot that acted as the cabin’s bed was a mix of gaurish oranges and blues. A soft chill filled its interior as the sound of Margret’s sneakers echoed from the wooden floor beneath her.

 

[MrNyarlathotep]

The familiar scent of copper-tinged sweat tickled the nerves of Peter’s nose as he stood in the moonlight’s glow. The coldness of fall danced along bare flesh as he gazed at the figure knelt before him. He was a lithe, pale man in his early thirties though his face bore a youthfulness that he did not possess. In the tawdry hotel room where he discovered himself once more, his slender fingers gripped the smooth leather of his belt tightly. Without hesitation, he lashed out at the flesh in front of him. The sharp crack of leather on bare flesh filled the room with an abhorrent tone as Peter took out his inner frustrations on the diminutive figure knelt before him. Yinuo was short, five foot two in heels which she had discarded on their entrance to the room Her hair was raven black and impeccably trimmed at the shoulders, Lavish make up adorned the tan skin of her face. The crisp night air stung the raw welt-covered flesh of her back as Peter relentlessly tore into her with his belt. A stifled yelp escaped pursed red lips as pressure built in her knees. Her delicate frame rested on the queen-sized mattress that furnished the room. As Peter struck Yinuo again, her hands dug into the burgundy sheets of the bed before her.

Peter wondered why someone would choose this line of work for themselves, surely there was a better way to live than being beaten by strangers for a few hundred dollars every night. Though he wasn’t in a position to ask. Satisfied with the punishment that he had inflicted upon his compatriot, Peter reached down and gripped Yinuo’s arm tightly. He pulled her to her feet harshly, a steely gaze on his eyes as he admired the tear-stained face of the callgirl.

“You’ve been a fantastic study so far but our transaction is not quite finished yet.”