A Short Story – The Other Me: Part I

I miss writing. It’s my passion. I used to write all the time.

Just felt like putting up an old story I wrote back in 99. I’ve looked at it a few times since then. Not the greatest story and not the worst. I haven’t been writing lately (except for Dietanic). I have a few ideas bouncing around in my head. Hopefully I can get them on paper soon. Until then, enjoy the story. It’ll be in broke up into a few parts. Story is quite long. Again, there are grammatical errors and spelling errors. I hate editing. I write. If I ever feel a story is good enough to be published, then I’ll do the editing.


It was a cold night. Halloween has just ended and all the so-called freaks went back in to hiding, waiting for another year to come out. A young man, about seventeen, walked aimlessly through a crowded parking lot. . He was preoccupied with something; the boy was about medium height, five foot seven to be exact. He watched from behind a car, as an unattractive woman exited the store. She was much older then him. She was about in her late thirties, looking more like fifty with all the weight she had. Her ass stuck out a great deal and her clothes seemed to be two, maybe three sizes to small. At her job, people would laugh went she bent over. It seemed that an indention of her underwear could be seen with the naked eye.  She looked around the parking lot for her car. A dirty, old beat up pick up truck made a turn around the corner. The gentleman driving honked his horn twice, getting the woman’s attention. “Coming sweetie!” she called out to her soon to be husband.

“I got you now.” The boy said to himself. He got inside her car and with staying a good distance away, he followed the woman home.  In the car, the young man went about in his head what he was about to do. He was planning on killing the woman and planned on getting away with it too.  He pulled on to a rural street and passed by many houses. He reached the point of his destination and watched as the man drove away. He stayed in his car for a bit, going over the plans one last time.

Inside, the woman was getting ready for a shower. “What a day. Need to get to sleep, work early tomorrow.” She said to herself. She started up the water for her shower and went back in her bedroom to get her nightgown.

The boy was ready. He knew what he was going to do, may get him caught and also killed, but he couldn’t fail. Failure was cause the whole world to die. He went inside his glovecapartment and took out a ski masked he purchased at the same store the woman was at. He put it on and took a deep breath. He grabbed his weapon of choice, a hammer and left his car, heading up to the house. The night was quiet, except for a few barking dogs and sirens in the far off distance. He tried the front door, but the door was locked. “Not good.” The boy said to himself. He giggled the knob a little more, thinking like most people that it will mysteriously open the door. He went around back. The gate to the backyard was left open, so this was a good sign so far for him. He was about to open the door, when he noticed a light turn on from the house behind him. He waited a second till the light went off. Sure enough it did. The boy proceeded in the house. The house was neat and well organized. It was tacky though. It appeared to him and to all others, garage sale like. All he nick-knacks, old vases, collection of dusty and out-of-print books, were stacked neatly on a poorly painted pink bookshelf. Paintings of waterfalls and forests were on all the walls. No matter which way you looked, you’ll be able to see one. One was even on the ceiling. “She has to be pure white trash.” He laughed and continued his way up the stairs. The stairway leading to the second floor looked liked the living room, paintings everywhere. The carpet on the stairs was a royal purple, while the living room was a lime green color. The house might be well organized, but the woman who lived here has no idea what good taste means.

The second floor had four rooms. A bedroom, bathroom, a second bedroom for her kids, and a spare room, which held more junk. The door two ways down from the stairs, was the bathroom. The shower was running and he could hear the lady singing. “…I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it. I’m about to lose control and I think I like it!” She wasn’t very good anyway. The boy waited outside of the bathroom, sitting against the wall. He closed his eyes and he could see her screaming for help, then he sees himself pushing her over the railing, where she crashes to the floor, dying instantly. The image flashed through his mind one after the other. He got a thrill watching her hit the floor.

His dream was interrupted by the silence in the house. The water stopped and he could hear her walking to the door.  Nancy Larson was dripping wet. She wrapped a towel in her hair and one around her body and walked out of the bathroom. The young man immediately startled her. “Who are you? What do you want?” she grabbed her towel, holding it tight, hoping that what was underneath isn’t what he wanted.

The boy had a devilish smile on his face. He was smacking the hammer in his hands, playing with it sadistically. “Take my money!” Nancy begged for him to go, but the boy just stood there with the hammer in his hand. “I don’t want your money.” He paused.

Nancy took a few deep breaths and then spoke up. “Then…then.what do you want?” she asked him. The boy looked around the hallway for something to steal. He looked left then looked right. He spotted a diamond ring on her finger. “Take it off.” He told her. She gave him the ring and backed away into the corner. The idea of rape entered his head, but something in his head told him no. “I came for one thing.” he said. In his head flashed the image of him hitting her dead center in the head and watching her body fall to the floor, shattering all her bones and killing her.

“What?” she knew something bad was going to happen, but what it is, it still was a mystery. She stood up and wiped away her tears. “Please take everything you want, just leave me alone!” with all the fear in her, she had enough courage to make a move. She stepped forward and reached for the hammer, but no luck came of it. Nancy looked up. She was bent over and looking straight into the boy’s eyes.

“To see you die.” He spoke clearly and was very blunt. He took the hammer back and came back with a hammering blow (no pun intended). The impact shattered her skull and blood was painted on the walls. She wobbled on the railing for a few seconds, till gravity took over and she fell over. Her body hit the couch, breaking it in half, and killing her instantly.

The boy smiled and left the house. He used the back door. The light was still on in the same house. A black silhouette was seen, but then was gone in a second. He took off his ski mask and placed it and the hammer in the glovebox. In the house was a bloodstained wall, a wet towel hanging from the railing, and her twisted naked body, spraled out on the couch. The first of many people was dead, and the boy, a young man named Pit Weston was not about to stop there.

Pit arrived home and wiped his feet on the ‘Welcome’ rug. “Pit, honey, is that you?” shouted his mom from the upstairs. “Yes mom. I’ll be up there in a minute. Have to get something from the garage.” He shouted back to her. His mom was fairly young. She is only forty-two. When anyone would come over, she would only be in two places, either her bed, or the couch in the living room. Mrs. Weston was ill and forced to stay in bed. A horrible virus is attacking her body. Doctors aren’t sure of what it is. All they know is that this virus is taking a liking to her bones and muscles. She spends most of her days lying in bed, doing hours of pointless needlework.

Pit was downstairs in the garage. “I need to get rid of this.” He said. Looking around, he spotted the trashcan. Today is Tuesday so tomorrow will be trash day. It was the perfect plan. He took a rag and wiped off the hammer just as a precaution. It took only a minute, but it seemed like hours to Pit. He took the rag and hammer and tossed it in the trash. “Oh! I almost forgot.” Pit recalled the ski mask in his car and tossed that in with the rest of the evidence. “With no evidence, nothing of the killing will lead to me.” He said to himself. Pit went in his room and locked the door. He pulled out the laptop from his closet and started page one of his journal. He thought for a title that would be catchy and funny. All he thought of was ‘My New Job’. He liked it though. He scrolled down and began to start his first entry.

November 2nd, 1998:

Today I started my new job. It was scary at first, but I had someone help me through it. I hope this jobs ends soon. I am afraid of getting caught. It isn’t that I hate what I am doing, it is a great honor for what I am doing (it isn’t everyday God himself chooses you to do what needs to be done). Well I have no idea what is to come next, but when it happens, I’ll write it all down in here.

He put away the laptop and got ready for bed. He turned off the light and laid in the dark thinking about what he did. Before Pit finally fell asleep, he heard a voice say “Good Job.” And that was that. The next day was a school day. He talked to friends as normal but the image of Nancy Larson falling to the floor would play over and over in his head. He wanted to tell someone, but whom? “You know he is one of them?” something startled Pit during math class.

“What?” he said.

The teacher stopped her sample problem and looked to Pit. “Pit, if your not going to listen to my lesson the be quiet. Your already in hot water, so I assume you have a question about the equation up here.” She was a very ugly teacher. She smelled like onions and cabbage, not at all a good combination, but that is what she smelled like. The only was for her to like you, is for you to kiss up a lot.

“No I am sorry, I thought Sam asked me a question. Go on with the lesson.” Pit exhaled. It was a long time since someone has talked his or her way through Miss Margaret Woods. She was a large black woman from the south. All of her word problems would contain shrimp, lobster, Cajun cooking, and Tabasco sauce. She was your normal stereotype person. All the images you would see of a black woman were in her. She would carry a Bible in her hand, holding it close to her heart when she walked with it. Margaret also wore a large flower hat inside and outside. It was attached to her head, most people thought.

Pit went to work on the lesson. “You know that Dewey is one too. Tell him, then get rid of him.”

Pit shook his head. This time he spoke softly. “Next time we speak, do it when I am at lunch. She could have killed me.”

“Sorry.” A voice in his head began to speak. The bell rang and it was time for lunch. It would be time to discuss the future plans. In a school of only three hundred, it was easy to make friends. For Pit, it was a little hard. He had about three friends, all of who which were not in his lunch period. That pretty much left him to eat alone. “Pit, do you hear me?”

“Yeah yeah, I do.” Pit took a sip of his milk. “So Dewey is one too?” what Pit was talking about was very strange. He opened his laptop and brought up the journal. It was normal for Pit to bring his laptop to school. It was so normal; anyone who had anything brought it to school. “So what should I do?” Pit asked himself.

A voice from his head answered him. “Get him to ask you for a ride home. Instead of home, take him to the woods. There use the gun in your mom’s closet to kill him. He is the one who killed your father. He was responsible for leaving you, your brother, and her alone.” Pit shook his head and agreed with the voice. It wasn’t normal for a kid at Pit’s age to have imaginary friends. This voice however, was no imaginary friend. The voice was real and was in the process of controlling Pit. “You there Pit?” it asked him.

Pit was remembering the past. He closed his eyes and found himself in a playground. Little boys and their dads were playing games. They were laughing, talking to each other, and munching on food. He saw his dad and him on a tall slide. “Ready little buddy.” Pit could hear his dad call out to him. “Yep.” He hen heard himself answer his dad. Pit and his dad slid down the slide, screaming and laughing and having a good time. Pit smiled then the scene flashed forward to a dark night in the house. He found himself in his room. He saw himself on the bed. He looked about seven, maybe eight. A noise of glass shattering startled him and woke the young him. Pit knew what was going to happen. He followed himself out the door, till he saw a man with a gun creeping up the stairway. “Get out of the way Pit!” his Dad yelled out. Both Pit’s hit the floor while his dad hurdled over them to tackle the burglar. A loud pop was heard, then Pit saw as his dad fell to the floor, with a hole in his chest. Pit sat there as he watched his own father die.

“Pit!” the voice called out. Pit was startled. He knocked over his milk, letting it spill and drip all over the table then onto the floor.

“Yeah, what do you need?” Pit asked the voice. The bell rang and all the kids left the cafeteria. Pit followed them out and spoke to himself. “I know what to do. Get back to me when I am finished with what needs to be done.”

The next hour was sixth hour. He was in class with Dewey. It was history class. Pit also did poorly in this class. Dewey Weiss was Pit’s best friend. He was there to help him through his dad’s death, was with him when they graduated eighth grade, and with him when he had surgery on his arm. Dewey was from Ohio. He had green eyes and brown hair. He was sixteen and was only a few hundred away from buying a car. He would either walk home, or ask Pit for a ride. Pit would always say yes. “What up Pit.” Dewey nodded to Pit and Pit nodded back.

“Nothing much. Say Dewey, you need a ride home today?” Pit was hoping he would say yes. This would be his only opportunity to do what needs to be done.

“Sure. Thanks Pit, you are really a good friend. I am lucky to have someone honest and caring for a friend.” Dewey was talking what he thought was true, but Pit just smiled and thanked him. He knew all what Dewey said was just a bunch of lies. “Hey Dewey, do you mind if we go to the woods real fast before you go home. I want to show you something.”

“What?” he asked Pit.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Pit smiled and both listened as the teacher talked about the past. School was over and both were ready to go. Pit drove a red pick-up truck. It was brand new. Fully loaded and not a scratch on it. He had a personalized plate that said ‘CAMLJKY’. They were in the car listening to the rock station when Pit had to tell him what he did. “Guess what I did last night?” he questioned Dewey. It was the dreaded guessing game all people hated. “I don’t know, but a movie.”

“Nope. Guess again.” Pit laughed and continued. “You will never guess.”

“You won the lottery, bought a cake, kissed a girl, ate green beans.” Dewey rambled on with guess after guess after guess.

“Nope, nope, nope, and…nope. Want to know what I did?” Pit was rudely interrupted by the voice in his head. “Do not tell him. If he knows, he’ll escape and ruin the mission. Tell him when he is about to die.” The voice was gone as quick as it came.

They arrived at the woods. Dewey was begging for Pit to tell him. “Okay what did you do?”

“Here let me show you this thing I found in the woods the other day.” Pit led Dewey deep into the woods. They went farther and farther, farther then anyone has ever went. “Well here it is.” Pit spread his arm out wide. All that was around him were trees and dirt. Nothing was truly cool to look at. “You took me here to see a tree?” Dewey was not happy and started yelling at Pit. “Take me home. I didn’t come to the place to see a tree. If I wanted to see a tree, I would look out my window!”

Pit took off his backpack and unzipped it. “Wait!” he called to Dewey. From his backpack, Pit pulled out a gun. It was your typical handgun. It may be small, but it has a lot of punch. “Where did you get that?” Dewey asked him.

“From my mom’s room. She was asleep, so I am borrowing it.” Pit held the gun up, pointing it at Dewey. “Pow! Pow Pow!” Pit said mocking the noise of the gun. “So you want to know what I have been having you guess for the whole time?”

“Yes, please tell me.” Dewey was anxious and was ready from some great news. He hopes it is to be something new and unheard of.

“I killed a lady last night. And the next one on the list is you.” Pit cocked the gun and pointed it at his friend. “Now get on your knees and put your arms behind your head.”

Dewey did as Pit ordered. Dewey was on his knees, just as a person would be in an execution. “I’m sorry Dewey, but I am here to do my job and I cannot have someone like you interrupting me.” Pit put his hand over his eyes, but left enough space between them so he could see the death of the second grim reaper. The blasts emptied the trees, it echoed through the woods. The sound was loud enough to get anyone attention. Pit looked on the ground at the lifeless body of Dewey. “You need to bury him, if you don’t, someone will find him, someone will know, someone will find you, and our mission will be over.” The voice called out to Pit, ordering him to dispose of the body. Pit dragged the body to an open field, where he and Dewey played often. Pit looked around, the area was clear and no one was around. “That is a good spot. Bury him here.” The voice told Pit. Pit ran back to the truck and grabbed a shovel and a few trash bags. A very noticeable blood trail led Pit from the crime scene to the place he planned on burying the body.  Pit dug a hole, four feet down, he would have went six, but that seemed like too much time, so he stopped at four feet. When finished digging, he put Dewey in two plastic trash bags and rolled him into the grave. Filling the hole up, Pit began to remember his father being lowered into a hole.

10 Years Ago

It was a Sunday, and not a good one at that. Pit was dressed in a black suit and his mom was dressed in a black dress. Rain was coming down, adding to the already terrible scenario. Pit’s mom walked over the coffin and placed a bunch of flowers on it. She backed away and grabbed a hold of Pit, both were crying. Pit knew that his father wasn’t coming back and his mom will not be the same. He knew something would change. It was here when Pit first heard a voice he is now very familiar with. “Hello Pit. I am here to help. We need to talk.” The voice was kind to him and sounded very understanding. Pit has found a new friend.

6 Years Later

Pit’s mom has just came home from the doctors and she wasn’t in any good mood. Pit was on the couch watching television when she looked at him. “Mom, is something wrong?” he asked her. Pit knew that something was wrong just by the way she looked. She was always happy and never mad about anything.

“Nothing dear.” She looked at Pit. There were tears in his eyes. She herself then began to cry. “Pit, the doctors have no idea what it is. It is some disease that is slowly eating away at my insides. After my bones are attacked, it will go after my muscles, then my organs. Pit I have no idea how long I can live for. The doctors say no more then 12 years. But Pit”, she cleared her throat and continued. “Pit, I will always love you and I know you will always love me, but we need to stick together and get through this. You’re my only son and I love you very, very much.”  Pit gave her a hug and smiled. He walked up to his room and closed the door. “My mom is going to die. What am I going to do?” Pit asked himself an unanswerable question.

“Pit.” His name was spoken softly in his room. Pit looked around and found no one. “Pit, it is me, your conscience. I am her to help.”

4 Years later

(Present time)

Those five words rang through his head. Pit was finished with the grave. The hole was filled and Dewey’s body was no more. Pit saw what he did. “I killed my best friend. What if someone saw me?”

“No one saw you. Listen Pit, we have a lot of work to do, so we need to get out of here and discuss what God has planned for you. You know Pit, he is pleased with you. So far you have rid the world of two of the many grim reapers. Just think Pit, you are saving lives. You are a hero.”

Pit left the woods and headed back home. During the car ride, Pit heard the five words spoken by his conscience. “…I’m here to help.” The words made sense.  Pit drove home at the normal speed, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He passed by a police patrol car. He got scared and slammed on the break. “Oh great. He going to following me.” Pit was paranoid. “No need to worry Pit. He will not follow you.” He voice gave Pit a good feeling. He drove down the road and looked in the mirror as he saw the police car get smaller and smaller.

Pit arrived home and walked in the house. His mom was upstairs in her room, resting. She was a woman in her late forties. She had green eyes and brown hair. Ever since her husband died, she lost all hope in looking and finding another spouse. To many people, she is what people would say as ugly. “Where were you? I was worried sick.” Pit’s mom was one never to get mad. She was nice to all his friends. She was even nice to strangers. Pit mumbled and thought of the first lie that came to his head. “I was playing basketball with some of my friends. Sorry I forgot to call.”

She smiled and excused Pit to his room. He gave her a hug and went up to his room.  Pit walked passed his room and walked in to the hallway closet. On the top shelf was a metal box. He removed a key from his pocket and opened it up. Inside was a box of bullets and a license for a gun. He pulled the gun out of his pants and put it back in the box. “No one will find out Pit. We will accomplish your mission with great success.” The voice spoke up.  Pit cleaned the gun with is shirt, put the box back in the right place and headed in to his room to get working on the next mission.  He looked at his list. Two people were dead and it will be three the next day. “This David Stone is the one Pit. He is the one responsible for killing your father. Get rid of him. He will kill again and again. You will be a hero if you do.” His voice was pressuring him more and more. David Stone was a stranger to Pit. He had no idea that he was and had no clue where he lived.

Across town, Dewey’s parents were getting worried. It wasn’t like him to be late. He was a very punctual kid. “He is probably with friends Harriet. He lost track of time and that is it. He’ll be home soon.” Said Mr. Weiss. “Give him another hour. I’m sure he’ll call soon.”  Mr. and Mrs. Weiss waited. They sat on the couch staring at the clock. It ticked away the seconds, then ticked away the minutes, soon enough it ticked away a full hour. Dewey was still not home. “I’m calling the police.” Mrs. Weiss picked up the phone and called the police. .

The operator answered. “911, may I help you?” The woman said. “Please help, my son is missing.” Harriet began to cry.

“Ma’am, please calm down. How long has your son been missing?” The operator was very calm and spoke clearly in all of the commotion. “What does he look like?” Harriet continued to cry. “I can’t help you, till you help us.”

Harriet cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “He’s been gone for about four or five hours. He left school, telling us he has a ride home. After that, I never heard from him again.” The operator answered. “Did he say who he was getting a ride from?”

“No, he didn’t tell me.” Harriet began to worry even more. “You aren’t considering that he ran away?”

“Miss, many kids do this sort of thing for a day. They spend a night with a friend, then come back the next day. All they want is some freedom.”

“My son is very happy here. He would never leave. He tells us whatever he does, whereever he goes and lets us now when he will be home. Now you send someone over now to find my son!” Harriet’s fear turned to anger, then quickly changed by to fear.

“Okay, okay. I will send some officers over to your house. You can tell them what you told me and answer any other questions they might have for you.” The operator hung up the phone, as did Harriet. “What did she say Harriet?” asked Walt.

“They are sending someone over. Walt, you don’t think anything bad happen to him?” Harriet knew something happen deep inside her, but didn’t want to face the fear of losing a child. “I love you Harriet. We will work through this together. We will find Dewey.”

Pit put the final piece of trash in the bag and looked at his newly cleaned room. He pulled out his laptop and entered in the date.

November 3rd

I killed Dewey today. I feel bad in a way. I have taken away two lives, but have saved many more in the process. I am still working on my next mission. This will take certain planning. Got to go, mother wants me to put this away.

“They know what you did. Sooner or later, they will find you.” The voice in his head spoke up.

“What do you mean, the know?” Pit questioned the mysterious voice.

“The police. They will link Dewey’s murder with you. I mean you are his best friend.” The voice chuckled when it said ‘best friend’. Pit grew worried. He was thinking of how long it would be before they come around asking him about the murder. “What should I do?” Pit asked the voice.

“You need to kill David Stone tomorrow. After that, you need to leave this town. Your next mission will be in Villa Park. Now get to bed, we have a long day ahead.” The voice disappeared.  Pit looked in the phone book, looking up the name Stone. To his amazement, there was only one. “Jackson Lane? That’s look very familiar.” Pit has seen the street before but couldn’t understand why. “I’ll check it out tomorrow, right now I sleep.” Pit closed the phone book and jumped in to bed and went to sleep.

Two officers were already inside the Weiss’ home asking them questions. “Could he be with a friend or a family member?” one of them asked Mr. Weiss.

“We’ll our families live in Boise and Austin, so I assume he is with a friend.”

“That’s a good start. Do you know any of their names?”

Both Walt and Harriet were dumbfounded. “I don’t know.” That’s is pretty much all they knew. All they had on their minds was Dewey.  “We’ll when the names come to mind, give this man a call.” They handed them a card with a detective’s name on it. “I am sure he will be able to help you.”

Walt stood up and walked over to the door, letting both of the officers out. “Thank you officers, thank you for coming over.”  Walt answered for him and for Harriet. “No problem folks. Just give that man a ring if you need any help. He is the best.”

Walt and Harriet went into Dewey’s room. His room was spotless, except for a messy desk. To their luck, under all the papers and books and junk, Walt found his sons appointment book. It was black and brown. It had a little pouch to put pens in and a clear case to put money in. “Where is it?” Walt flipped through the book. He passed a calendar, passed a time zone sheet, and he passed an assignment sheet. Way at the end of the book was the address book. “I found it!” Walt was excited. This was their only chance of finding him. It looked under ‘a’. He found three names. Richie Abbot, Frankie Angelo and Dusty Ashton. They first called up Abbot. The phone rang twice till a woman answered. “Hello?” she said in a sweet voice.  “Hi this is Mr. Weiss. I am wondering, is your son Richie home?”

“No, I’m sorry. He is gone for the month. He is visiting his grandma. Is there something I can help you with?” Mrs. Abbot was very young. She was only 33. She had Richie when she was 16 and swore that’s he will never give him away. “No, that is alright. It is nothing very important.” Mr. Weiss hung up the phone and tired the next person on the list. The next called had a similar response. “Sorry guy, your son isn’t here.”

“Well?” Harriet looked at him. “Sorry babe, but were zero for two.” Walt dialed up the Ashton’s. He got the answer machine and hung up. He tried the fourth number, then the fifth, and then the sixth. They either never heard of Pit Weston, or he wasn’t with their son or daughter today. “Well three more to go. Pit Weston, Sarah Willard and Aaron Young.”  I do hope one of them have heard of him. “He called up the Weston’s. Mrs. Weston picked t up. “Hello?” she said. She was very weak and spoke softly. “Sorry ma’am, but is your son Pit home? This is Mr. Weiss, Dewey’s father.

“Yea, hold on a second.” She paused and walked from her room over to her sons. “Pit! Wake up, you have a phone call.”

“Thanks mom.” Pit gave his mom a kiss and closed the door. “Hello?” Pit was awake a bit, but still a little out of it, from being woken up suddenly.

“Hey Pit, this is Mr. Weiss. Have you seen Dewey today?” Pit’s eyes bugged out. , His jaw dropped open and he began gasping for air. “Hello? Hello?” Mr. Weiss called for Pit.

“Oh, sorry, I just stubbed my toe on my bed.” Pit thought to himself “what a save”.

“Sorry. Have you seen Dewey today? He hasn’t came home from school.” Mr. Weiss crossed his fingers, hoping Pit would say yes. “I…um…haven’t…no wait I mean I did see him today.” Pit was sweating and his heart was beating fast. Mr. Weiss pt his hand over the receiver and told Harriet the great news. “Where Pit? Where have you seen him?”

Pit being the smart-ass he was, responded with “at school.”  Walt smiled and laughed. “No Pit, I mean after school? What happen to him after school?” Walt was calming down; his heart rate also declined.

“Oh sorry. We stopped at the store up the run from your house to grab a bite to eat. We were talking about a girl we both liked. He got all mad and left. He told me to go home, that our friendship was off. He walked off down the road. That is he last I saw of him.” It seemed as if Pit was being fed line after line. “Great job Pit. This might throw them off the track for a bit.” The voice congratulated Pit for an outstanding job. “But get them off the phone, they might start asking more questions.”

Mr. Weiss shook his head. He was right back to square one. “Well thank you Pit. If I need you again, I’ll call.” Mr. Weiss hung up the phone and sat down next to his wife. They both began to cry.

“He knows it was me. What do I do?” Pit began pacing the room back and forth. The whole mission could end any minute now.

“Don’t worry Pit. By the time they suspect you, you’ll be long gone and working on saving the world. They see this as murder. They aren’t seeing it our way. We are saving the world. We are giving people what they want. They want to live forever, so that is were we come in. “ The voice laughed.

“What is so funny?” Pit was scared out of his mind and couldn’t see how it was laughing.

“Nothing. After David Stone, our next mission will take you to the one who is in charge of killing you. If he gets to you first, all hope is lost.”

“Who…who…who is the one to be killing me?” Pit was curious who was the one in charge of killing, but was afraid of whom it was.

“It is the mayor of Missouri. He is the one who is going to kill you. You have only a week to do it, before she comes for you first.” The voice disappeared. “I must complete my mission. God is counting on me and so is the world.” Pit said. He laid back in bed and fell asleep.

The next day was Saturday. The police were called back tot he Weiss house. About six cops were exploring every part of the house to find any clues that could lead them to finding Dewey.  “What good is looking in his room going to help you find him? Shouldn’t you all be out on the roads looking for him in the playgrounds, woods, parks, gyms, schools, stuff like that?” Harriet was not to thrilled as the cops tore apart his room.

The detective was about 60, with brown hair. He had a pair of thick glasses, that left indention marks on his nose when he leaves them on to long. “Mrs. Weiss, we are looking for a reason why your son might have ran away from home.” Sargent Kent started his job as a security guard at a local toyshop all the way up to Sargent.

Mrs. Weiss again blew up when they accuse Dewey of running away. “My son loves us very much and we love him too. We would know if he was upset he tells us everything.” Harriet pulled a stuffed animal out of one of the officer’s hand and put in her own hands. Sargent Kent put his hands up in the air, as if he wanted Mrs. Weiss to back off.  “I can see why you are upset, but over half of the time kids never tell their parents how they feel. They need to have something to themselves.” Sargent Kent took the toy back and handed it to the officer to continue his search. “Now, Mrs. Weiss, please is their any reason your son might have ran away?” Kent waited for an answer, but received nothing.

Walt walked in, steaming mad. “You heard my wife. She told you twice. My son was very happy with us. He would never run away. You all better think of another reason.” Walt held his terrified wife in his arms as she cried. “Sargent, we love our son very much, he loves us very much. You see that is how a family works.” Walt took a breath.

A garbled voice came over his radio. “Excuse me for a minute folks.” Kent walked into the hallway and answered the radio.  “Sir we found a body in the woods. It matches the description of the one you gave us. We had to dig him up though.” The officer said.

“Dig him up?” Kent questioned him.

“Yeah. We found the body without a problem. It is located in this open patch of grass. It was the only area with dirt. In my own words sir, the killer wasn’t very smart.” The managed to get in a joke during a very dramatic moment.

“Okay. Call the morgue and get the body there fast, I want an autopsy on it.” Kent radioed out and walked back in the room. He had a frown on his face. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Harriet spoke up.

Kent shook his head. “I’m sorry. Were going to find out who did this though. Give us time and the killer will be behind bars.” Kent walked over to the boys’ desk and began to check it out. “Damn people. Why do people have to kill? It just makes me sick.” Kent ways talking to himself, but spoke louder so someone would hear and comment on what he said.

Pit was at home ready for the final mission he would complete, until he reaches Villa Park. “Finish him off, then come back here as fast as you can. Those cops will come here asking questions. We need no screw ups.” The voice told Pit.

“I know, I know. I’ll be sure to do exactly what you said, and no screw ups.” Pit shut off his light in his room and went downstairs to enjoy a late breakfast with his mom. His mom was still in her bathrobe. She was looking worse day by day. He right arm was all bruised and bleeding. The virus was attacking her at all points. It had already taken off her pinky finger on her right arm. It would be only a little more time, till it would begin to attack her brain.  “Hi mom, how are you feeling?” Pit asked her.

“The doctor says it isn’t going to good. He says I need a lot more sleep and need to stay in my bed.” She coughed loudly. It sounded as if she was coughing up a lung. “With my luck, I’ll be coughing up a lung.” She smiled and sat down on the couch to rest. “What are your plans today? It would be nice to spend to day with you once. We should talk, we hardly talk now. I forget who my son is.” She asked Pit.

Pit walked over to her and gave her a kiss, as he always did. “I love you mom, you know that. I am just going out for a bit. Going to have lunch with a friend.” He left the house and mumbled to himself. “It’s not going to be to long before she is gone.”  The voice came back over. “Pit, no need to worry, your mom will get better. Once we get rid of David, your mom will live. Right now, we need to get moving we the mission.” Pit walked around to the backyard and walked into the toolshed. Inside were the normal tools people used to fix pipes, cars, walls, and other handyman stuff. What Pit saw in there was an arsenal of weapons. “What should I use?”

Pit looked up and down. He saw on the workbench, his weapons. He picked it up. It fit perfectly in his hand. He gained a sense of power when he held it in his hands. “You look good holding it.” The voice told Pit. In his hand he held a nail gun. Used mainly for nailing objects together, Pit decides to use it for his weapon of choice. “Go Pit, go and complete the mission, time is of the essence.” The voice told him, then faded away.

David Stone was in his room watching a cheaply made porno. It was the basic porno all teens watched. He laid in his bed watching it, while his mom was downstairs eating breakfast. She could hear the bed banging against the wall, and a faint moan. David was about sixteen, red hair and the center of all the jokes at school. Kids would laugh at him calling him a dwarf or a midget. David was a tough kid, who took the jokes, but deep down, he cried. He would joke with his few friends that one day he would come to school with a gun and shoot all the kids who made fun of him. It was only a joke. Outside their was a crowd of people, being held back by police. A new reporter managed to sneak in the crowd and go with a live broadcast. “This is Anderson Navy and I am live here in Winfield Illinois. It has been announced to me that there are now two dead people in two days. Police are unsure if they are related and the idea of a serial killer is being mentioned. No suspects have been reported. When more news comes my way, I will let you know. Anderson Navy, channel 12 news.”

“Mrs. Weiss, is there anything you might have over-looked? A phone call, a letter?” Sargent Kent has been there for two hours and nothing has been confirmed. No information could be gathered at all.

“No! I told you everything I know. All I do know is that some crazy guy kidnapped my son…” She stopped him before he could finish. “Wait, there was this one call we made. We called up his friends and found that one of them did see him last.”

“Do you have his friends name?” Kent asked her. This will be his first big lead; maybe it would be all he does need. “His name was Pit Weston.” She handed him the appointment book. It was opened to the page with Weston’s number.

“I want an officer down to this kids house now. Get all we can get from him. He might lead us to the killer.’ Kent pointed to two officers, showing them the kid’s address. “Get all you can from him.” Kent nodded tot hem and they left the house, on their way to the Weston’s house.

Pit arrived at the top of the street. He could see six patrol cars by his friend’s house. He looked at the street. Sure enough it was Jackson Lane. “I knew I have seen this address somewhere.’ Pit made the turn on Jackson and as he drove down the street looking at the address numbers, the patrol car passed him. He nodded and so did the officer on the passenger side. Pit came down to the crowd, where he was stopped by a police officer. “Sorry kid, I need you to leave, nothing for you to see at all.” He told Pit.

Pit looked over. Again another amazing feature. The Stones house was right next to Dewey’s house. “I’m just coming to see my friend. Can I do that?” The officer let him go. Pit parked the car next to the Stone house and walked out. He was terrified. He was thinking to himself that someone would see him and stop him. “Keep walking. No one see you.” Pit lifted up his coat checking on the nailgun, making sure it was still there. “You know what to do, correct?” the voice asked Pit.

“Yes. Get in there and get out.” Pit approached the front door of the house and knocked. It took only a minute till his mother answered the door. Mrs. Stone was a very ugly woman. It seems as if she never really didn’t care what she looks like. Her hair was tattered and twisted, all in knots. Her skin was red from a rash, it was cracked and blood stained.  To top it all off, she had breath that smelled like onions and garlic. “Hello young man. May I help you?” Despite her appearance, she was very polite.

“I’m looking for your son, David. Can I talk to him.” Pit was also polite to her. Mrs. Stone smiled, revealing her yellow and black teeth. “He’s upstairs in his room. It is the first door on the left.” Pit smiled as to thank her and made his way to his room. “Oh, and knock first.” She added. “What a very nice boy, nicer than my David.” She closed the door and took another puff, each puff leading her closer to her death.

Pit stood outside the door to David’s room. He can hear the rattling of the bed, which Mrs. Stone heard earlier. “If I leave this house, someone will see me. They’ll know what I did.”

“No they won’t. You never gave them your name. Now get in this room and finish the kid off!” it was the first time the voice ever yelled at Pit.

“Okay, okay!” Pit grabbed his head at both sides, hoping it would stop the voice. Pit opened the door, walked in a few feet, and then slammed the door.  “Hey dick! Knock first!” David quickly zipped up his pants and turned of the television. “Who are you?” David asked him.

Pit laughed. “I know who you are. You will never get away with it.” Pit slowly lifted up his coat. David caught a glimpse of the nail gun. He was unsure of what it was. “What the hell is that?” David got up from his bed and walked over to Pit. “Nothing.” Pit answered him in one word. He grabbed a hold of David’s face and tossed him back on the bed. “I know what you’re planing on doing. You won’t get away with it.” Pit pulled out the nail gun and aimed it at David’s head. David put his hands in the air, as a form of surrender. “What are you talking about kid?” David was confused. He was totally lost in what Pit was saying.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Pit waited for him to answer. “I don’t even know you. How let you in here?” David was getting worried. His mother knew all his friends. It was a shock to him, that she let a perfect stranger in the house.

“You are here to kill my mom. I already lost my father to you people, now if I kill you, my mother won’t be next!” Pit spoke nonsense to David, but to himself, what he said made perfect sense. “Now tell me. Why do you want my mother dead?”

David stood there with his mouth open. “I don’t know your mother. Why would I want to kill her?” David was getting angry.

“Because that is your job. Tell me why you want to kill her and I might let you live.” Pit held the nail gun in the air. He was sweating; his teeth were grinding against one another. In the corner of his mouth, he began to drool. Holding the gun was getting him excited. He felt as if he had all the power in the world.

“I’m telling you. I don’t know your mother. Now get out of my room, before I show you the way out, if you know what I mean.” David got up from the bed again and walked over to Pit. His fists were in the air, ready for the old fashion street fight.  Pit started to lower the nail gun, when his voice stopped him. “What the fuck are you doing kid!? He’s lying! Now get the gun in the air and shoot him in the damn head!”

Pit raised the nail gun and pressed the trigger button.  It hit David in his chest, knocking him to the floor. David screamed in pain. “That hurt! Stop in kid! What ever you are smoking, lay off it. You need some serious help!” David held the wound from the nail. Blood was all over the floor, the bed, and David.

“Fire again Pit. It felt good didn’t it?” Pit smiled. The voice was speaking the truth. Pit fired the gun again, and again, and again. David laid on the floor. He had wounds all over his body. David tried to speak. “What…why…are…doing….this?” David spit up blood. He was too weak to do anything. “Too bad for you kid. You see, I got the gun and all you got, is a body full of holes.” Pit laughed. In the moment of shear fear, he was still able to crack a joke. “Finish him off Pit, he needs to be dead. The only way your mom will live, is to kill this kid!” the voice convinced Pit to finish what he started. He walked over to David. David laid on the ground, clutching his bed. Blood was all over him. His eyes were rolled back in his head, his teeth red from the blood. “See ya in hell kid.” Pit pressed the nail gun to David’s head and fired. David died in an instant. Pit stood up and looked in a mirror. He had blood over his face and some on his clothes. “Wash up and get out. Talk to no one. We cannot afford to get caught, not at the rate we are going.” Pit did as the voice told him. He washed his face with a shirt that was lying on the floor. He left the room and made his way down the stairs. “So did you and David have a nice talk?” Mrs. Stone asked him.

Pit was shocked. He was unable to talk. “Just say what I say, we’ll make it passed her.” The voice told Pit.

“Oh, fine. We talked about a project for school. It should go over pretty well. I mean your son is very smart. I am glad I have a friend like him.” Pit said what the voice told him. It was all lies, but it fed to Mrs. Stone.

“Well, I am glad David has a friend like you too. He never spoke of you before?” It seemed as if she was getting closer to the truth.

“Well I’m new here. Just moved in a two weeks ago. David and I just hit it off.” Mrs. Stone was amazed. Her son was not the one to make many friends, even though all of what Pit was saying was lies.

Pit made his way to the door, he was hoping she wouldn’t ask anymore questions. “Wait before you go, you never told me your name?” she asked.

“Why do you want to know my name?” Pit asked her. He was scared now. He had no idea what to say. “Tell her your name Is Stephen Beker”

Pit took a deep breath. “My name is Beker, Steve Beker. Well I am sorry, I would love to talk to you, but I am in a hurry.  It was nice meeting you.” Pit thanked her and walked out the door.  “Remember Steve, you can stop by any time you want. Our house is your house.” She smiled and Pit closed the door.

This is the story I wrote where I came up with my online name, Pit Weston. I have used it ever since. I have wanted to kill him off. Which I don’t know if it is even possible. Can you kill an online name? He’s already been around for so long, how can I make his name vanish? Guess I’ll just keep it. I think I mentioned it before how the name came about. But for the new readers, I’ll tell the story again.

I was at work and was in the process of writing this story. I needed a name. I wanted something different. I didn’t want to call him Bob or Joe. I wanted something unique. While looking around the place, I saw a sign for “Holiday Dinners”. One of the choices was “Pit Ham”. That sounded cool. I’ll go with Pit. His last name is from a friend (not really a close friend but a friend none the less). His name is Wes. Okay, so I have Pit Wes. Wes what? I tossed on T-O-N. And the name was born. Not a fantastic story. But the question of what Pit Weston means or is has came up numerous times.

Thanks for reading. Part II will be later.

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I like food. I like the smell of cinnamon.

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