7th October 2014 - Hutton - I and He
I plan on writing often..
I am writing often.
~
Deep within the cobwebs of his mind, there lay a remnant memory of someone writing to him.
'Yellow postcards. Black pen. Cursive writing. Yes, what was it she had asked him to do?'
The elaborate plan to kidnap the last surviving member of the Hutton family had failed, the police were on the lookout for him and there he was, lying down on a sack of produce discarded behind the Supermarket at the intersection of Jeeves and Patrick St.
The large gunshot wound to his calf meant that his walk had gotten him not very far from the Hutton family mansion. He was in pain and the delirium had just started to creep in; every passing moment was of anguish and he daren't scream for help.
The man sighed. Breathing in heavily. Something wasn't right, he had gone wrong somewhere.
He had entered the house slyly; he'd memorized every entrance and exit there was to that goddamned building, but he never expected to get out with a wooden peg promised for the future.
As he lay down, he thought about the beautiful writing on that postcard.
'Find the last Hutton and bring him to me. You shall be rewarded.'
The correspondence was crude and rudimentary but worth the pay - The usual $20,000 for the kidnapping. The gory deeds paid more but he'd had enough.
He lay there, thinking to himself - 'I've known that woman. I've known her all along'; but the silent night gave no hints of assertion. By morning, he had passed. Lying in the pool of his own blood with a smile on his face.
Police were called. Autopsy reports confirmed that Mr Hutton had died due to massive blood loss. The gun was an ancient heirloom of the family: a Remington rifle. In the search for evidence, police found a postcard - written crudely to resemble a lady's handwriting.
The gun had prints of one man. Mr Hutton. The police were on the lookout for a killer.
Unknown to them, hanging by a thread to the frayed ends of his sanity - Hutton had again beaten them.
They would never find the killer. If they did. They'd probably kill him.
Good thing I'm dying then.
He smiled as his consciousness faded away into the darkness after a young lady whispered to him 'You're not a monster anymore Hutton.'
-
Gbk.
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