Killing seemed so easy now. But there were other ways of silencing
people. Pain worked much better. Watching people break down and promise
things that they never dreamed was … exhilarating. Twenty-four hours was all
it took. Cops didn’t even stir before then. And by then, most little pawns were
returned to their homes. Broken. Pliable. Mine.
The “who” always revealed itself. Someone always did something
that endangered the whole operation. One would never guess the secrets this
church congregation held. They would never talk. It was almost funny how
closely they were controlled. If they only knew how many pawns were being
moved, being manipulated. It was never supposed to come to killing, but some
people weren’t worth the oxygen coursing through their body.
Pastor Clifton was such a do-gooder. He could never be turned out; so
he had to be put down. His murder is a true test of my power. It should signal
to anyone that they should be afraid. Very afraid. If the good pastor could
be killed, then no one is safe. Ahhh, the sweet stink of fear is going to be …
intoxicating.
The killer shifted toward the second entrance, but froze upon hearing
an excited yell of, “Pastor Clifton!”
Sierra Kay
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Naleighna Kai Literary Cafe Magazine July/August 2017 57