New Identity
New Identity
John sat in his Mercedes at a Seven Eleven. He bought a French vanilla cappuccino and a snow ball from the store, and waited. Looking up at the huge house on the mountain, he expected the light to go on around 8:52. It didn’t. It came on at 8:54 on the clock in the car. He reminded himself he must syncronis his watch to the clock on car, since his watch read 8:52. The victim was now getting ready for a night on the town.
He had been watching Simon Korsokof for the past month, watching his every move. He had done this numerous times before. Watching his victims. Waiting for the moment to enter their homes. Killing them while they slept, and taking over their identities. These people were recluses, no family, no real friends, but they had lots of money. John would transfer their funds to a Swiss bank account, and then sell their houses. Nobody know. Nobody was the wiser. They just disappeared off the earth. And John reaped the benefits of their lives.
John started his Mercedes, and traveled up the long steep dead end road.
He turned around a Cul De Sac just past Simon’s driveway. He watched as the Rolls Royce exited the gate and started for the city. He knew where Simon was going from previous watches. Simon was going to the local gay disco tech.
John parked his car, and followed Simon into the bar. He kept away, but within eyesight of Simon. He watched Simon walk up to the bar.
Simon was about 40 years of age, with a graying mustache and sideburns to match. He was always dresses elinquently, and always picked on a younger male about 20 years old.
Immediately, a young buck approached Simon, and they engaged in conversation. This was a normal encounter observed by John, and he sipped his seven up as he watched. A dark haired man approached John, and asked him to dance. John declined, saying he was waiting for someone.
John watched as Simon and the young man walked out the door. He didn’t follow, knowing full well where Simon lived.
John waited outside the Seven Eleven. He saw the light go out at Simon’s house. This was the time for him to move. He started his Mercedes, and drove up the mountain.
The gate was obviously closed, and John parked his car in the nearby Cu De Sac. He walked up to the gate, and climbed the rails effortlessly.
John hid in the bushes, watching Simon’s bedroom light. After twenty minutes, the light went out.
John slowly ascended the front lawn to the house. The house was massive. In this location, he could probable get four million or more from the sale.
John went to the back porch door. He put in the code that he had acquired from the local Real Estate agent. Stupid woman left to use the bathroom and left her computer on.
The door was unlocked. Good, less damage to the house. He entered the dining room, and turned on his flashlight. The stairs was nearby, and he ascended them. He could hear noise in the Simon’s bedroom. He could shoot them both, and no one would be the wiser. He would assume the identity of Simon, and the young man would just be another gay casualty in the city.
John entered Simon’s bedroom. The room was pitch dark. But he could hear someone moaning. Good, he caught them both in bed. It would be an easy kill.
John switched on his flashlight. He saw a young man tied to the bed, hands and feet bound. The young man looked frightened, and there was blood all over his chest. John did not see Simon. He searched the room with his flashlight. No Simon. Then John heard a shreek from overhead. He lifted his flashlight, and saw Simon ascend to him from the ceiling. John didn’t have time to scream as Simon sunk his fangs in John’s jugular vein.
May 3, 2011
