Problems

PROBLEMS

By

LAURIE CURRY

Problems

By Laurie Curry

Copyright 2012 Laurie Curry

Smashwords Edition

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CHAPTER ONE

I catch his eye, it is just for a fleeting moment, yet it seems like an eternity, as though time has stood still, there is nobody else, just me and him! He seems to look into my very soul and knows what is there. The funny thing is that he does not seem to care, he sees and accepts. His look is of acceptance, yet at the same time a challenge. It's you and me, who is going to win? I am going to take up the challenge because I cannot lose.

I am a man of forty; he is a boy of fifteen. The only problem I have is when and where I am going to kill him! Oh yes, I am going to kill him; there is no doubt about that.

I made my mind up about three weeks ago, it just suddenly hit me what I had to do. Kill him; it is as simple as that. If you have a problem, solve it, if you cannot solve it, then accept it. Well I have a problem, him! I can't accept it so I am going to solve it, permanently! I have no plan, that is the way you get caught and I do not want to be caught straight after I have solved my problem, you see I have other problems and they have to be solved, permanently! No, the way to do it is to be ready whenever the chance arises. Chance, act, over, finished. Planning takes time and involves watching your prey, learning their habits and following their routes. Doing it that way, people tend to notice and remember. How many times have you seen a murder investigation reported on television where they show an identification picture of a suspect? This man is wanted for questioning by the police. He was seen several times in the vicinity of the murder. Eyewitnesses describe a car seen at the time of the murder. Do you remember anything suspicious on the night of the crime? Inevitably someone does, and the crime is solved. Police rely on witnesses, without them their job is always harder, if not impossible to do. I am going to make it impossible. The planners are the ones who get caught, the clever ones are those who act on impulse and take the chance when and where it presents itself.

The likes of Brady and Hindley got away with it for years before they got caught, and then they might never have been caught if it was not for somebody actually pointing them out to the police. They did not follow their victims around planning when they were going to grab them. They just picked them up from the street when the chance came. Simple, and effective.

I do not condone these murderers, in fact I would bring back hanging just for them and their like, even hang them myself I would. Killing innocent children is the most heinous crime in my book, give me a gun and I would personally shoot these killers myself. These people killed for lust and sex thrills, to act out the depravity of their minds on innocent children. They were clever, but only in their depravity, I am not depraved, I am not going to kill for lust or sex thrills, I am just going to solve some problems. I do not even wish to offend people, that is why I won't be leaving any "body' lying around to shock. I am a nice tidy, clean man in body and in mind.

While I am waiting for my chance, let me fill you in on a bit of my background and my problem. I am a single man. I live on my own in a council flat (they wanted to put me in a high-rise block but I would not have that. Too many problems, talk about 'Corridors of Blood.') I have no real friends as I am a bit of a loner, too many people around causes me distress, but am not unfriendly, in fact the opposite. I enjoy company, but not too much and not too often. People who do not understand my feelings, what the hell, let them think what they want, have called me unsociable. Past girlfriends think me very sociable when I am entertaining them on my own as they get all my attention and respect, I let them into my world of privacy. It is only when the focus is on going out that I put the shutters up. I do not like going outside much, sometimes they do, then we drift apart, them going out, me stopping in. We always stay on friendly terms though, they drop in to see me now and again, even more than one at a time, but nothing gets serious. They say they enjoy my company but still like to go out for other company. Great, I can understand that, I will just go on meeting girls until, one day, I find one who is a bit reclusive like me. There is no harm in being reclusive and I do not bother anybody. I have gone on enough about me for now; I do not want to give too much away, who knows? The police might be reading this, that is the reason I have given no bodily description of myself. I am handsome though, but then again I might just be vain or even a liar. I will be giving you more of an insight about me as we go along, to give you a better understanding of myself. I am sure that as you get to know me we will get along fine. I am quite a nice chap really. I just have this problem at the moment.

He is a right little bastard. In saying this I could well be quite literally right. There is only his mother and him at home, I do not know anything about his father, but I know he has lots of uncles’. I see them come and go all the time. Don't pick me up wrong, I do not watch who goes in and out of the house, it is just that when one of the uncles' goes in, out comes the bastard to run riot. I cannot help but notice that!

I hope you are not beginning to feel sorry for him. Yes, I know the story, poor boy; he must be neglected, thrown out on the street while his mother entertains. He needs a father to guide him, no wonder he is going astray. His mother is to blame. To hell she is! She does not give anybody any problems, in fact you hardly see her and when you do she is always polite, giving a smile and nod in passing. No, whatever she does, she conducts it in the privacy of her home without annoyance to anybody. Go in the house and do what you want, as long as it is affecting nobody else sod them! That's my motto.

I can name, and I bet you can, lots of people who came from a similar background and have grown up to be decent people. It is just the occasional one that turns out pure bad and becomes a sociopath. That's what they call them now, "sociopath'. They even try to analyse and cure them. They never learn that no matter what they call them, or how they try to cure them, what they are dealing with are pure unadulterated evil little bastards who should be stood on and squashed flat and swilled away in the gutter. The sooner they realize this the better the world will be, and me, I would not have a problem.

By now you might be asking what he has done to deserve me killing him. After all it is a drastic step to take, no matter what anybody has done. Let me tell you. Up until he came, the street was fairly quiet. We had the occasional arguments between neighbours now and then but they did not amount to much, a bit verbal on the night time and friends again the next day, airing the washing a bit you might say, the usual thing you see in any street. Nobody actually resorted to violence so nobody felt threatened in any way. Even the local drunk was harmless when he was on a bender. Strangers, at times, would be wary of him as he came staggering home from the pub, coat half off, shirt tail hanging out and a menacing look on his face as he staggers along. He would swear at anybody or anything, but all you had to do was to say hello and he would beam a big stupid grin at you and be happy for the rest of the way home. As I say, just a normal quiet street, till he came.

He started of quiet, just roaming around getting his bearings, finding the layout of the streets like most kids would do that had moved into a new area. He must have soon found out that there were not many kids of his age living nearby, and the ones that were belonged to the quiet type, not his type at all. He soon remedied this by getting some of his mates from his old neighbourhood to come along and visit him. Pretty soon there v/as a little nucleus of four, v/with him as the leader.

They started off by playing in the middle of the road, dodging out of the way of any traffic that came along, and giving abuse to any driver who honked their horn at them. This caused concern for some of the neighbours who came out and warned them about the dangers of the road. These warnings were met with a mouthful of obscene language and shouts of mind your own business. The neighbours soon gave up on trying to get them to play safe and to go and play football on the field just behind the houses. Me, I never warned them, I just hoped a car would come and knock the bastards down. The mother was told about his behaviour, but as he only did things behind her back and denied everything when she asked, saying that the neighbours were picking on him because he was new to the street, she believed him. You cannot blame her because you could see he acted like a saint whenever she v/as around.

One of his favourite sports was to take his gang pigeon trapping. I've watched him showing them how to lay traps using fine nylon string. I used to wait until they left then I would rip the traps apart, even then I missed the occasional one and a bird would get caught, the proof being a number of one-legged pigeons hobbling about, some with the nylon still wrapped around their legs. They must have got tired of this game, as I have not seen traps for a while. I think he took up shoplifting after that, as I would hear talk about him at the local shops.

One thing I know he definitely took up was stone throwing. Him and his gang would hide in some bushes and wait until somebody came past then they would throw stones at them, aiming for the head. They did this to me once; just missing my head, when I turned around they ran off. Another trick he has started is to throw stones at the walls that run alongside the windows of the houses. His main target is my flat and the one downstairs to me where an old an- infirm man lives. This is because he can throw the stones from the shelter of his own doorway, dodging into his house as soon as he throws them, this way you can't actually catch him in the act of doing it. I have seen him though; I have stood in my darkened bedroom and watched him through the window. I see a lot of what he does this way, oh yes, I am watching him all right. I stand there dreaming my dreams of what I am going to do with him. If he could read my thoughts it would make him shake with terror, the likes he would never see on a nasty video. It is not nice sitting at home watching television and hearing the thud of stones just missing your windows by inches and waiting for one to come crashing through the glass. No, it is not nice and I don't like it, you see, it makes me mad.

Most people would have complained to somebody by now or gone out and threatened him, maybe somebody has, if so then it has had no effect. You would go out and tell him off, wouldn't you? If yes, then you are bloody stupid. I don't want my windows smashed or paint thrown at my door when I am out. Believe me this happens, I have known of it done to others who have complained about somebody. Go to the police? Excuse me while I pick myself up from the floor. I was overcome by a hysterical fit of laughter. I will tell you a story about the police, and it is the honest truth, I swear to God.

It was about two years ago. I was living in a flat owned by a private landlord. The council offered me a council flat on what they said was a nice council estate. Of course I jumped at the chance, it had an extra room than the flat I was living in, and also, more importantly, the rent was a lot less. One thing I did not know was that the council were having a lot of trouble finding tenants to live in that area. It was like a black ghetto of whites. Anyway, innocently me happily moved in, it was a Friday night.

At about eight, when the removal men had finished bringing my stuff in and left, I set to and started to empty boxes. By around twelve I had set my kitchen and sitting room up. By then I was knackered, so decided to go to bed and leave the rest until the morning.

It was 2.30am, something had woken me up, I listened and could not believe it, somebody was breaking the glass of my front door. I shot out of bed and raced to the top of the stairs (it was an upstairs flat). I could see a man holding a brick, trying to quietly knock the glass out. I shouted down, What are you doing, or words to that effect. I don't normally swear, but in this context it seemed appropriate. The result was that the hand disappeared along with the person who it belonged to. Looking through the upper stair window I saw a person running into the house next door. The front doors were on the side of the houses, with a path dividing them. The light was on next door and through the window I could see the back of this person running up the stairs. Well being brave, or an idiot, or both, I hurriedly got dressed and went next door, which by this time was in total darkness. Get your arses out here I shouted, as I banged on the door. Across the road lights came on and I could see neighbours looking through their windows, some even came to their doors. Them I did not know, I only wanted to know the person who had tried to break into my home. When the door I was banging on opened and five big ugly looking men stood there I did not want to know them either. I stood there like an idiot, thinking to myself, now what do I do. I did not have to think for long. One of them said, hit the bastard then all hell broke loose. Needles to say, I was kicked all over the place. The feet and fist were flying all around and most of them were landing on me. Everywhere I kicked or punched out I hit someone, after all I had plenty of targets, I could not really miss. It made no difference, for very soon, or should I say bloody fast, I was finished. They left me lying there, looking at the neighbours going back into their houses, not one had come to my aid. Bastards!

I managed to get up, luckily I was not hurt too badly, and went to the house of the area council warden who lived in the next street, he phoned the police. I could not believe how fast they arrived, I later learnt that the warden had dialled 999 and told them that a burglary was in progress. All told, from me going to the warden's house and returning back to my flat with the police, seven minutes at the most must have passed.

As I entered my flat with the police I was in for another shock. In that short space of time, my television and stereo unit had gone. There was also a trail of blood leading from my front room, down the