the next bit...
Bill Cursy was 27. He looked upon himself to be considerate with a keen eye to detail. His imagination was very vivid, which helped considerably with his artistic nature. ‘Yet another work of art to perform.’ A lot needed preparing. The house looked different, lived in. Photographs reminded him of how the house once thrived, vivid colours now worn, by years of use and neglect. The love had left the house, and only great artistic talent would restore what now seemed lost. The previous couple had not taken care of the place. Cobwebs hung in the corner of the master bedroom, slight traces of damp had discoloured the upper corner near the grimy window frame. His paints were not quite the right colour. The walls where a very pale lilac yet the mix he had prepared seemed slightly off. Maybe a touch more white paint. Perfection. Sheets had already been prepared, covering all forms of antique furniture from a sturdy mahogany bureau, to a petite chair, almost certainly crafted in the south of France. The four-poster bed hung silk drapes that bellowed in the slight breeze that flowed in through the window. The frame of the bed was now hidden by another white sheet. Caution and consideration for all beautiful objects all lent to the final perfect result. This was to be his greatest triumph yet. He started painting the far wall. The vibrant past was now returning, more beautiful than ever, the room seemed to grow and flower as the original beauty was restored. Bill’s care free whistling just enhanced his mood, as he tirelessly worked away painting all walls with the up most care, careful not to get one spot of paint away from it’s original design. Caution and consideration led to perfection.
The room was almost perfect, a few final touches. An elegant aluminium vase offered stunning contrast against the antique furniture. Bill removed the sheet from the bureau and placed the vase, pondering the ideal position. The vision nearly matched. Bill removed the photo from the frame, and froze. How could he have missed this detail? The picture showed a middle-aged couple standing in this bedroom with their backs to the four-poster bed. The man was tall with slender build. He had the posture of a well-educated man. His hair was dark, and well groomed. Designer glasses obscured his stern brow, and strong facial features. The lady to his left looked like his perfect match. She had blonde hair, which even in this still image seemed to shimmer in the light that cascaded through the small window, which bill had scrubbed tirelessly to restore. It looked dull this evening compared to the photo, but even Bill couldn’t restore the sun at night. Her skin was fair, she had a strong smile, brimming with confidence and promise, and her eyes radiated as much promise as her smile. Bill couldn’t quite determine the colour of her eyes, but they were either light green or blue. Stunning. Both the man and the woman wore casual dress, jeans and T-shirt. Yet this gave the feeling of fun and togetherness, now that the frame didn’t obscure the photo’s edge, Bill had noticed one crucial detail that he had missed. A small boy approximately Sixteen. Long wavy blonde hair, a mischievous smile, yet also brimming with confidence. He also wore jeans and T-shirt.
Bill dragged the body of the golden haired lady towards the back of the bed, he propped her decisively onto the petite chair. Her eyes no longer glimmered with confidence, but glared horrifically with pain and anguish. The savage gash in her throat still oozed warm glistening blood down onto her nightdress. She needed to be changed, Bill had already found the clothes that she had worn on that sunny day in the picture, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to find the boy. How could he have missed that crucial detail? Caution and consideration led to perfection. Bill strode through the bedroom doorway into the hallway humming merrily.
The hallway seemed empty. Many other doors were open, one room, which had already been searched, bared trophies of all sizes, boasting numerous 1st 2nd and 3rd positions in extreme mountain biking Another room was occupied by various instrument, and amplifiers. Gibson guitars, Pearl drum kit, Marshall amps, Audiotech microphone with stand, mixing equipment and numerous pedals amongst other equipment Bill couldn’t even comprehend. The outsides of the room were padded in some sort of soft material, supposedly used for deadening the sound.
One door hosted what appeared to be one very large closet, which was currently being used for a hideaway for all the excess clutter that didn’t match the décor, or had surpassed it’s uses. One bathroom with walk in shower, and another spare room, which looked as though it hadn’t been used in a while. There appeared to be no-where this boy could have stayed. Maybe he had passed away, yet the photo couldn’t have been more than a year old. Belongings would still be in the house, toys, computers, and lots more photos. He had already checked downstairs after finishing with the middle-aged man. The place was deserted. Bill looked up and sighed in frustration. Bill smirked, and then began humming again. There it was, one place he had missed, a fine square of thin light omitted through the ceiling. The loft held another room, but no handle appeared attached to the square panel that sealed him from what may hold the final ingredient to his masterpiece. A ladder was needed to reach the hatch, yet nothing was in near vicinity. If light was beyond that panel, surely it was accessed frequently. Bill glanced around and noticed a long wooden rod leaning against the nearby wall. Bill eagerly seized the rod and start prodding the wooden panel. The panel popped open to reveal a dimly lit room, obscured by a ladder. Bill glanced at the end of the rod and noticed a small hook, Bill pulled the end of the ladder down, and unfastened it, so it met the floor. The final ingredient.
Slowly he ascended the ladder, even young children could be dangerously violent, when cornered without hope. Survival instinct could bring with it, amazing endurance and strength. Bill had experienced this before many times. He couldn’t have achieved his vast collection of art without encountering the odd hysterical child. This is what made them look beautiful above all the rest when captured at that extreme point of anguish. Adults seemed to display signs of anger for much longer than children. Even while sawing at their necks, they seemed to have more anger than pain. Obviously this varied, but as a rule it seemed the norm.
The room appeared empty, but then again this was usual. Again this behaviour was quite common in children under 15, and quite a lot in the female gender. Bill found his hobby fascinating. He understood people, the boy did appear slightly too old to be hiding, yet situations did vary. He savoured the challenge, started humming and began his search. Caution and consideration led to perfection. What started as fun was proving to be slightly annoying. The wardrobe was empty, the curtains had no feet. And only toys were under the bed, no child. He had to be sure. If the boy was dead he could move on, find another photo and finish his work. It would mean a lot more elbow grease, but no masterpiece was ever achieved without sweat and endurance. He must be sure, they were a family in the picture, and he must reflect that. They must be a family in the contrast.
Bill made his way downstairs, and had nearly reached the lower landing when something disturbed him. Horror struck him. He couldn’t stop his work, it meant so much to him. His growing passion couldn’t be extinguished. The open front door created a big problem. He must tidy up. No one can know what has happened until he had finished. He had to improvise. Bill had already tidied up all the evidence of foul play, he just had to remove the bodies until he had time to finish what he started. Time to get back to work. Humming Bill ascended the stairs and entered the master bedroom took his camera out of his pocket. ‘Smile’, his voice deep yet merry as he took one brief photo. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t perfect, he had to complete the picture before he could photograph the final result. He wrapped the bodies in the sheets, which had covered the furniture while he had cheerfully worked. Making sure that there was no excess blood. A mans car projects his image, and must be clean and tidy. Caution and consideration led to perfection.
So.There's a little more,let me know if you've had enough
