Thriller: Horror: Serial Killer (Mystery Suspense Thrillers) (Haunted Paranormal Short Story)

by Stephen Kingston

“Golf, George. He likes to play golf. Alone.” Legion replied. “Monday afternoons, he takes himself up to the Hardacre golf club for a round on his own. He never plays with other people. No point. He couldn’t hit a barn door with a frying pan. But he loves to boast his skills and writes himself up a wonderful score on the card when he returns to the clubhouse. So despicable he even lies about playing a game. At midday he will be teeing off from the eleventh hole. It is a quiet, secluded fairway there. Perfect for the job in hand. Some bad weather on its way so I suggest you take an umbrella George. We don’t want you catching a chill.” Legion said.

  George was smiling as he finished his breakfast and got dressed for a day of killing. He dug in the broom closet for his old umbrella and gave it a flick to test whether it still opened. It popped itself open with a flourish. George was pleased to see it still in good working order. He hadn’t used it in years. Since his attack he would never bother to leave the house if it was raining. But that was then. This was now.

  He set off for a long stroll to the golf course. He would avoid the main entrance to the club of course and follow the quiet country lane that led around the perimeter of the grounds. He knew the area very well. This had all been open, common land when he was a kid. Up here he would come with a gang of friends to play cowboys and Indians. Build dens and if they were allowed a camping night, tell ghost stories around a campfire. The land had quite miraculously been sold to a rich developer. This of course caused an outcry from the people that were used to their rights on the common, but they were sold the usual stories. The land was unsafe for children due to old mine works and the city needed the revenue. It had been sold and that was that.

  George scowled as he remembered back to the happier times he’d spent here on the old common. Legion was right of course. This was one of the bastards that had taken it away. Passing a sign for the golf course perimeter he made his way towards the eleventh hole. Or at least where he thought it might be. It was the tenth.

  George scanned around and found the marker and arrow that directed golfers to the next tee. There was no sign of his target so he ambled casually along until he found the eleventh. There he set himself under the canopy of a large sycamore tree and waited. Clouds were forming high above. From over the hills he could see big black cumulus clouds moving in and was sure he heard a gentle rumble of thunder in the distance. Legion had been right again. This would certainly be a day for an umbrella.

  It had become incredibly warm sat under the tree and George was happy to feel a breeze beginning to blow and the occasional drops of rain. A storm was certainly on the way. George was no weather forecaster but even he knew the smell of a storm approaching.

  Sir Humphrey came into view heading towards the tenth hole. George saw him blindly thrashing in the undergrowth a hundred yards from the pin. He could see him reaching into his bag and throwing a new ball onto the fairway. Not just replacing the ball, Sir Humphrey heaved it as far as he could towards the green. It rolled gently to a stop, perfectly placed for a short hit home. George snickered as he watched the man cheating himself.

  After another four ungainly swings Sir Humphrey had potted the ball and was working his way to the eleventh tee as he wrote down what George assumed was a birdie on his card. George made his way round the back of the tree to observe without being seen. The rain had increased and the thunder was now quite noticeable and close.

  Sir Humphrey set himself up on the eleventh tee to prepare for his drive shot. He fumbled around in his shirt pocket and triumphantly produced a large cigar which he proceeded to light.

  “Celebrating his wonderful last hole no doubt.” George snickered as he advanced from his hiding place towards the politician.

  Sir Humphrey had withdrawn his driver from the bag and was taking a few practice swings as George edged his way up from behind. George had pulled the hammer from his pocket and was just in range as Sir Humphrey turned.

  “Who the bloody hell are you?” He yelled. “This is a bloody private club my man. Clear the hell off!”

  It was at that instant he noted the raised hammer in George’s hand. Sir Humphrey staggered backwards from the obvious assault and the cigar dropped from his mouth to the ground. He spluttered as he raised the heavy ended driver to defend himself.

  George was taken aback by the fact that the man was not only armed with a rather heavy club but that at the moment he seemed to have the upper hand. Sir Humphrey was tall. Much taller than George and with an upbringing of private schools and rugby playing universities, was significantly fitter even for a man in his late sixties.

  High above them the thunder began a constant rumble and the rain was now beginning to thrash the pair of them. Sir Humphrey was yelling at George as they stood squared off at each other. George couldn’t hear a thing through the roaring thunder.

  Sir Humphrey moved towards him with his club held high above his head ready to smash it down on a now confused George. The bolt of lightning that captured the golf club sped straight down into the earth. All the way through the hands of Sir Humphrey and exiting somewhere at his feet.

  George was knocked off his own feet by the power of the blast and from his now sprawling position on the ground he looked up to see Sir Humphrey still standing. The club in his hand still pointing to the sky. He held that pose for what seemed like an age to George as the lightning continued and silhouetted the politician on the skyline. Then he fell. He fell, deflated and dead to the ground. His head resting just inches from the cigar he had dropped earlier.

  George grimaced as he dragged himself upright from the floor. He stood up and looked over the now lifeless body and grinned.

  “Hole in one Sir?” he giggled as he made his way back to the tree and his umbrella. The rain was beginning to ease as quickly as it had started and the storm itself was now some miles away. George flipped the umbrella open and sauntered off the golf course and back to the lane he had arrived on.

  The body of Sir Humphrey Pendlington-Smythe would not be found until later in the afternoon by a group of golfers sensible enough to wait out the weather. Nobody at the club was in any rush to see him back, boasting about his incredible round of golf and certainly nobody would be out looking for him if he arrived late. George of course would be saving the clippings from the newspaper the next day.

  Arriving home George set the umbrella back in the closet and settled himself in his chair.

  “A job well done George. The world just became a cleaner place don’t you think?” Legion said from the TV screen. “Tonight we deal with an altogether different monster. For now, enjoy a nap. You’ve earned it.”

  Chapter Four

  “Time to wake up George. We have much to do.” Legion hissed from the TV set.

  George had passed out, slumped in his chair in front of the screen. He woke with a start.

  “What? Where? What’s wrong?” George mumbled as he roused himself awake.

  “It’s time to go to work my friend. This one will test all your skills tonight. This will show us you are truly one of us. One of a kind.” Legion said.

  “Really? So soon? How do you mean one of you? Do I get a badge or something?” George asked.

  A picture came up on the screen of a beautiful woman. Mid-thirties with long dark hair, George instantly assumed she was either an actress or a model. Not for a moment did he think she was a bent politician or a lesser criminal.

  “This is Janise Saunders. She is meeting an old man tonight and will be relieving him of several hundred pounds. She is the lowest of the low George. A woman that uses her beauty to get what she wants. And she gets it. A more cruel and callous bitch you could never imagine.” Legion said.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You’re telling me that a prostitute is a bigger criminal than the ones we’ve already encountered? That makes no sense. If men want to give money to a woman for a good time I don’t see any crime in that. Looking at her I wouldn’t mind a go myself.” George said somewhat startled by his own admission.


  “You are fooled George. Fooled by her beauty. Look again. Look into those evil eyes of hers. The man she will be meeting tonight is dying. He has but a few weeks to live. She knows that and is fleecing him for his last bit of money before he goes. Robbing a dying man who could be finding treatment perhaps or at least a last holiday. What sort of woman would steal from a dying man, knowing these were his last days on earth?” Legion snarled.

  “Yes. Yes I agree. That is pretty bloody evil. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I was just taken in by her beauty for a moment. So how do I go about it?” George replied.

  “The old man will arrive at eight tonight. After he leaves, she always takes a shower. The key the old man uses to get in is under the garden gnome on the front steps. Once he is gone the stage is all yours George. Don’t let us down. You are playing for the big prize tonight. A lot is at stake.”

  “Big prize? What big prize?” George asked.

  “You will be one of us George. You will get to sit at the big table and help guide others as I have guided you. This is it George, the big one. Go and prepare, don’t let us down tonight.” Legion replied.

  George, dressed in his overcoat with hammer in pocket, found himself a place across from the woman’s house to observe. The house was a small semi, previously an old council house George assumed. The garden was run down and full of children’s toys. Dotted around the small walled garden were garden gnomes in various states of repair. The one supposed to be fishing had the stance and the eager expression of a gnome catching a huge fish. But the fishing rod he was supposed to be holding had long gone. The one with the blue hat, digging for treasure in the garden was having to manage without a shovel, George noted. Then at the side of the house on the step to the back door, George noted the red hatted gnome under which was hidden the door key.

  George stepped back from his inspection of the house as he saw an old man approaching. The man was limping and leaning heavily on a cane. He grimaced with every step as he approached the house. Taking his time to navigate the front gate the man made his way to the back door and stooped down to gather the key from under the gnome. George could see the whole episode was causing the man pain and winced himself as the man stood up to enter the house.

  George could see into the kitchen the old man had stepped into, he had sat himself down at the table. Two children came running into the kitchen and jumped on his lap. It was then the woman emerged. Dressed in jeans and a t shirt, George was puzzled as to how this woman could be ever expecting to make a living as a prostitute with kids running around and making so little effort on her appearance. George moved closer to the house and found himself walking up the path towards the back door. He stopped short as he heard a shout.

  “No I will not do it!” The woman shouted.

  “But you must dear. I have given you all the money I have. Please!“ The man begged. “Just do this one thing for me, I beg you!”

  George moved closer to the kitchen window to hear better the conversation. Legion was right of course. This evil cow was milking the old man for everything and making the poor old sod beg for the privilege. George would be happy indeed to take this greedy whore out of the gene pool. He could feel his anger swelling as he moved closer to listen.

  “Dad. I’ve been reading up." The woman said.

  “Dad?” Thought George. “Well there’s a whole new perversion already.”

  "Dad, I think I’ve found a place in California. They can fix you. There’s no need for all this going to Switzerland to die nonsense. They can make you well again. I know they can.” The woman said.

  “We’ve talked about this over and over Janise. There is no cure. I can’t take any more. You’ve been putting the money into that account right? Just let me go in peace princess. I can take no more.” The old man said.

  “If you love me. If you love your grandchildren you will trust me Dad. Let me call them and talk to them. Just give me a little more time. We want you around for a lot longer. If they can fix this, you can get back to your old self Dad. Please let me try.” The woman was begging.

  George stepped back from the window and worked his way back to the street.

  He walked slowly home stopping every now and then to go back. This was the mission. This was the big one. How could Legion have been so wrong? Eventually he arrived back at the house and slumped into the chair. He felt totally drained and numb.

  “Back so soon George? She’s still alive. You still have time, get back there.” Legion said.

  “No” said George. “Whatever your incredible sources might have told you, she is guilty of nothing more than loving her father. Trying to keep him alive. She never took his money. She was saving it for a euthanasia plan she wanted no part of. You are wrong Legion.”

  “Wrong? I am never wrong George. Get your fat lumbering arse back over there and kill the damn whore! Do it now!” Snarled Legion.

  “No. You are wrong. Why would you have me kill an innocent, sweet young girl trying to help her father? Why?” George snapped back.

  “You are a killer George. It is what you are. A monster. A killer. A taker of lives. You will do this and you will do this now or the world will know what a nasty piece of detritus they have living amongst them. 'The Hammer Killer' they will call you. We can do that George. We can destroy what pathetic life you have left.” Legion raged, his face bulging though the TV screen.

  George thought he should be frightened. Even maybe respectful. Whatever was in this TV set was certainly not open to negotiation and was pure evil. But he wasn’t frightened, in fact he began to gently laugh.

  “Hammer killer? My hammer has killed nobody. Sure I was there and sure I may have been involved in the events that killed those people. But I never laid a finger on one of them, certainly not a hammer. It was all coincidental. I am no more a killer than you are a news reader.”

  Legion was bulging in and out of the TV screen as it took on an almost three-dimensional state of rage. The room glowed fiery red and George sat calmly within it.

  He slowly reached into his overcoat pocket and slid out the hammer. He turned it over and over in his hand feeling a comfort in its firm handle and balanced weight.

  “Now or forever George! Kill her or we will take you and your damn soul to the darkest pits of…..”

  George slammed the hammer deep into the TV screen. The room, once fiery bright was plunged into darkness and quiet. Leaving the hammer where it was buried George picked up the TV and moved it into the small box room. His rent classified it as a bedroom but unless a family of Pygmies had decided to take up residence, no average sized person would ever be using it as a bedroom. Once he’d dumped it on the floor of the room George backed out and closed the door. The quiet was almost overwhelming and he noted that the only noise within the house now was the gentle hum of the refrigerator. It was almost the sound of an invite thought George as he reached inside and pulled himself out a bottle of beer.

  Sitting down on his chair, beer in hand, he could now feel the comforting ache of his old wounds. He had forgotten how it felt to ache. How just moving slightly in the chair could relieve the dull pain down his leg. Now it was all coming back. He ached but he felt content. Half way through the beer he fell into a deep sleep.

  He awoke to the feeling of a wet patch seeping through his trousers. He sat up with a jolt as he realized the beer had half emptied onto his leg as he slept. Looking around the small, untidy living room George smiled. Then winced as he tried to get out of the chair. Sleep had not helped the aches, he thought as he made his way to the bathroom. Today was Tuesday. George decided on a long soak and clean clothes for his weekly trip to the diner. Cheeseburger and a cola seemed the perfect idea for today, and it was Tuesday after all.

  George never gave a second thought to the TV set with the hammer through it in the spare room though he did check to make sure the door was properly shut before he left the house.

  He took his time as he strolled along the long road up to the diner,
making sure that he avoided catching a glimpse of the televisions in the window of the electrical shop.

  For the first time in as long as he could remember, the place seemed warm and happy and so did he. The woman behind the counter smiled as she handed him his cheeseburger, fries and cola and for the first time ever, George smiled back.

  He took a long deep first bite of his burger and chewed almost ecstatically as the hot juice of the meat cascaded onto his tongue. The cheese still hot and melting sent a gentle burn to the roof of his mouth. After swallowing he giggled at his childlike enjoyment of the moment then took a large gulp of the soda to ease the burn. Life was incredibly good after all.

  George had just taken a second large bite from the burger when he saw Janise entering the diner with her two children in tow. She looked stunning. George couldn’t take his eyes off her as she moved to the counter to order, her long dark hair cascading down her back. She turned as she waited for her food and caught George looking at her. She smiled. A warm beautiful smile that caught George totally and embarrassingly off guard.

  The bite of burger he had just taken and forgot to swallow decided to make its own way down his throat. It stopped just before his tonsils and lodged there. The bread starting to swell as his throat tried to contract. George gasped. He grabbed at his throat to dislodge the lump of burger. He squeezed and prodded to set it free but between the soggy bread and the sizzling lump of meat they had no intention of giving up the fight, he could feel a slice of onion tickling his tonsils and began to gag. The glare of the lights in the room began to pierce his eyes but shock wouldn’t allow him the luxury of blinking.

  As he began to slide from his chair and crashed to the floor with the table on top of him he saw Janise rushing towards him. He struggled to decide if having her seeing him like this was worse than choking. At the moment the choking did seem the worst part of the experience. The lights began to dim as he felt hurried hands trying to free the table from on top of him. He was getting weaker and his attempts at dislodging the burger were getting less. Now he could feel hands reaching down to pull him upwards but his legs refused to cooperate. They had turned to jelly as he felt Janise and the woman behind the counter fighting to get him back on a chair.