Into the mind of a killer – my #Nanowrimo experience

Posted: November 24, 2014 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , ,

I’m almost done with my National Novel Writing Month manuscript, Blood Visions. It’s about Fortuna Cavalieri. After a car crash which nearly claims her life, Fortuna is cursed with a psychic link to evil. When serial killer Brandon Keys goes on his murderous rampage, Fortuna is drawn into the edges of his world like prey to a spider’s web. Every time Keys kills, Fortuna knows. She knows because her sixth sense is activated by evil; she knows because she can see him in what she calls her blood visions. Fortuna is not the only one with a psychic ability. Keys too has been blessed with the second sight since childhood – the ultimate gift for an efficient killer. Here’s an extract of the manuscript which takes place between Fortuna and Keys.

Fortuna headed for her demons. Once again she moved within the red mist and was conscious at some level that this was another vision but different this time. Instead of being taken to his house she was in the midst of the most beautiful countryside she had ever seen. All around was vibrant green with an intensity only Spring can bring. Rolling hills ended in distant blue mountains and a crystal clear sky. The heat of the sun was gentle on the breeze.

She moved towards the nearby lake. At the water’s edge the killer sat on a park bench, as though he’d come out for a stroll that morning to a ready made vista. It was his vision Fortuna was in, not her own, and she approached cautiously.

When she was a few metres away, he spoke. “I’ve been waiting for you. I wanted you to see what I can create. In my mind’s eye it is always this…or the blood house; but you’re here today. That’s good.”

“What is this?” She dared not move any closer.

“Oh come on. Come round and face me. I don’t bring my knife to this place.”

She moved to the water’s edge, still keeping her distance.

“Why am I here?” she asked, trying not to be drawn into his games, but wanting to know the significance of the landscape despite herself.

He smiled, a half smile. With him there was no real happiness in any of his expressions – only cynicism and bitterness. “I know what you think of me. I know that you think that I’m a monster but you can see into the monster. What does that make you?”

She began to turn away. “Look if you’ve got me here to play games…I’ve had enough of that. I am nothing like you.”

“No? Let me tell you about this place…It is only good memory I have. Of a spring day when Walter and my ma took me to the river for a picnic. I remember the way the sunlight fell on her hair. Walter even showed me how to bait my fishing hook. I was four years old and he had left me alone…up til then. I remember my ma’s dress, flowing in the breeze. It was one good moment mixed in with a lifetime of bad moments…some recipe huh? Do you know that when I kill all the bad moments go? They take them off me. The bad moments go into them.”

“You are sick. You know that don’t you? And I am nothing like you. I know what you do to them. You torture them and kill them when they have no hope left.”

“Ah, but you are forgetting that I can see into your mind just as you can see into mine, and I see your darkest moments. Your dark moments are what makes you like me.”

Fortuna turned to him. She had nothing to hide and there was defiance in her when she answered him. “Don’t ever presume to know what is in my head…”

But he persisted in his arrogance. “Did you ever think about why your Uncle Pete stopped visiting?”

She looked away from him, and across the water. Overhead a crow cawed. Yes, she remembered her Uncle Pete, her ma’s brother. She remembered a particular night when he had stayed over, a memory so deep that it felt like a dream, difficult to recall, and blurred around the edges. She could see herself as a five year old, shocked and confused, wondering if what was happening was real. She hadn’t thought about this in a long time but the blood visions were forcing her to remember her childhood and she couldn’t shake the picture of her childhood self. What she remembered most was the way she felt, powerless and forced to go headlong into something she didn’t understand and knew was wrong.

Always the memory of her childhood had been easier to forget it. Up until this moment she hadn’t even realised she had been trying so hard to bury it. She sank to her knees, looking at him through anger and remorse. “You know about that memory?”

He nodded. “It is your black moment, the moment that defines you now. Just as my black moments…and this one beautiful moment define me. When it comes down to it, your blackest hour has controlled you all your life. Tell me Fortuna, when was the last time you had a man. Have you ever wondered why your ma can’t stand you, and why your beloved papa was so kind to you. You were decided a long time ago, just as I was and none of it is our fault.”

Fortuna got to her feet, moving a little closer to him. “Let me tell you something now. It is not what happened to us when we were children that makes us who we are. It is the choices we make every day. You choose to take away life to supposedly ease your pain. I choose to find a way to take back my power without hurting or killing anyone…”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. That’s not how it’s going to be. In time, you’ll see this.”

She began walking away from him, leaving him, the killer, sitting on a park bench overlooking his one beautiful memory. But he wasn’t giving up so easily.

“One day you will be stuck in those black memories forever. That time is coming soon. That’s how it’s going to be. And this,” he said, gesturing at the rolling green hills and lake, “doesn’t change anything. I’m coming for you and I’ll kill you. Like those other girls, you’ll take my black moments too. Your luck is about to run out and mine will be the last face you see before you die.”

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