Hello everyone! As part of Short Story Saturday, I have posted another short story, this one entitled Thing That Must be Done – An Abecedarian Story. This story was inspired by https://www.writersdigest.com/prompts/abecedarian. It was done mostly for fun but I wanted to see whether I could make a compelling short story using a restrictive format. Plus, there were a couple of other short stories I am in the middle of writing that for one reason or another I could not finish “in time” (i.e. before Saturday) so I posted this story instead. It is also the reason why this story is shorter than usual. Regardless, please enjoy.
I stalk my prey late at night. Jumping from shadow to shadow, the city’s large and looming skyscrapers serve as the perfect cover. Killing a man is never a pleasant prospect. Letting him continue to perpetrate his nefarious deeds, though, was something I could not allow, especially after what I had learned.
Many ladies of the evening, as I will call them to be polite, have fallen by the tip of his knife. No one is quite sure what his motivation, that is, except for me who only happened to stumble upon it Often I am reminded of the story Of Mice and Men, where George shoots Lennie out of love and compassion and because there are some matters that you must do yourself. Perhaps that is why I did not call the police even though that would have by far been the more prudent action.
Questioning myself now will do me no good. Regardless of the reason, I am committed and have to see this through until the end. Some matters must be taken care of personally. That is something I’ve always believed. Until now, though, that credo had never been put to the test.
Villains like him justify their actions with flimsy rationales. When I happened upon his room and I discovered press clippings and journal entries, it informed me not only who the killer was but he committed these crimes because he considered those women “sinners” and “whores”, “sub-humans” no one would miss.
Xanthic streetlights above are a divine light guiding me. Yet, even though I firmly believe I’m doing the right thing, my heart breaks with the prospect of what I’ll ultimately have to do. Zealously, I match the killer’s every step. After a night of skulking, I finally can catch up with him, at the end of an abandoned alley. Brandishing a knife in his hand, he awaits his next victim.
Concentrating fully on his vile intention, he does not notice me. Delicately, I move toward him. Every step fills me with anticipation and dread. Finally, I stand next to him. Grimacing with gritted teeth, I raise my gun and place it against his temple.
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