The End of 328 Baxley Street

The End of 328 Baxley Street …

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny




Author:  Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee … story and artwork owned, written by me.

Artwork by/owned by me … Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.  I did a drawing of Victoria Fairchild, and her cousin … Lind Lou.




The child sat playing in the sand.  He held a little matchbox car in one hand, and a firetruck in the other.

Bud-um-ummmmmmmm.  He made the sound of a motor as he drove each one on the sand.  He was completely lost in his own little world.

Michael!  Michael, come into the house!  Time to eat lunch!  Michael never heard his mother.  He had become lunch …

John slipped into the woods unseen. He ran back to his home.  The forest was perfect cover all the way.  He made sure the little boy didn’t spill a drop of blood on the way.

Now, he knew his lunch’s name.  Michael.  Michael.  He repeated the name in his mind.

John was hungry.  It had been several days since he’d moved to 328 Baxley Street.  He had eaten once since then.  He couldn’t wait to get Michael to the kitchen.

Each limb was wrapped in its own package.  The head was in another package.  He began slicing thin strips of juicy flesh off the torso.  John’s mouth was drooling … he couldn’t wait to savor the tender pieces of young flesh.

Three bowls sat on the countertop … broccoli florets, cauliflower, carrots in one bowl … chopped onion in the second bowl and in the third bowl … button mushrooms.  John was drooling, damn if wasn’t hungry as hell, he thought.  Stir-fry!

The frying pan was hot enough.  John placed the strips of flesh into the frying pan.  Each piece began to crackle, pop in the hot olive oil.

The flesh was done in a matter of moments.  John placed each piece on a paper towel. He dabbed at each strip to be sure each piece was dry.

In another frying pan he stir-fried the vegetables in olive oil until tender.  He added the cooked flesh … to the average eye it was a wonderful, stir-fry meal.  No one would ever know his secret ingredient.

He washed, dried his frying pans, spatula.  He didn’t like any kind of mess in his house.  John looked around his kitchen … all was in place, countertops spic and span.

John took his plate to the table, went back to the refrigerator to get a soda.  He came back to sit down, began eating.

God, the flesh tasted better than ever.  John closed his eyes, savored the tender meat… vegetables.  It was a good thing he’d placed a napkin in the top of his shirt.  It was soaking wet … John was drooling heavy.

He finished his lunch.  He cleaned his mess up.  There were several drops of blood on the bottom cabinet door.  He grabbed the bottle of bleach, sprayed, wiped it off with a paper towel.  Now, all was spic and span.  John hated a mess.

John couldn’t wait for the night to come.  He would be sitting on the porch, watching the children play.  Today, he had watched the little boy play near by in his yard.  It was too easy to get his lunch today. He was driven by hunger, the need for food … now.

He heard a knock on the door.  John put a pleasant expression on his face.  He opened the door, smiled big at the man and woman who stood there.  Hello!

The woman had been crying … John asked her what was wrong.  She asked him if he’d seen a little boy.  Her little boy was missing.  She began to cry out loud.

Michael! Oh Michael, where are you?  The man put his arm around her.  We are going to find him, Martha.

John stood, looking at them.  He had put an expression of compassion on his face.  Oh my! he said. I’ll keep my eyes open as I move about the neighborhood, he said.

He saw the woman’s eyes go to a spot on his shirt where a piece of stir-fry meat, and carrot had landed as he was eating.  Michael!  He knew there was no way she could know she was looking at a … piece of her son.

He apologized as he wiped it off.  I was just eating lunch.  The woman never noticed.  She was crying loudly now.

The man asked him to call if he saw a little boy.  He handed John a piece of paper where he’d written their phone number.  We live just next door to you.  Thank you.  I’m getting Martha home, Michael could be there now.

They left.  John wiped the kind expression off his face.  He didn’t feel normal feelings.  He had to fake them.  He walked to the bedroom, laid down on the bed.  He was going to take a nap.  He burped up some of the food he’d just eaten … swallowed it.  Damn that had been good eating.

I was in the darkness of the closet.  The door was opened halfway.  I chose to stay inside. The darkness and I blended together.  I didn’t always live in darkness.

I have a beautiful home, husband, pups, and a cousin named Lind Lou Livingston, and my best friends, Ms Nancy, and Mary.  They were my closest family, friends in this world.

Sometimes, when I go out to stop bad things happening to good people, homeless, elderly, children, animals … I am gone for a while.

Sometimes, someone will say to me in my real world … Victoria Fairchild, when you are around … it just seems like good things happen.  Sometimes, I think you are an angel.

I am capable of strange powers.  Even I don’t know to what extent.  I surprise myself sometimes. I do what others can’t.

I’m mean enough to do what’s needed to save, help good people … innocent people, animals.  I never bat an eye … I just do what’s needed, an eye for an eye … no more … no less.

Lind Lou, my cousin … also, has strange powers.  We never share what we have the ability to do … in our family, it’s possible one could turn on the other.  It was better to stay secretive, guard ourselves.

Lind Lou and I … somehow, we stay close … this always amazed me. I still watched her, too.

She came to visit me, sometimes.  Whenever she did visit, wherever she went, strange things would begin to happen.  I had my suspicions of what some of Lind Lou’s hobbies were.  I was biding my time … I would know for certain if I was right.

I knew John had killed another child for food.  I had followed him in the darkness of the forest to the edge.  He killed the little boy, Michael, as his mother called to him.

I watched John strike before I could act to cut him down.  He had torn the child’s throat out with his teeth, thrown his body into a black, plastic bag faster than you could blink your eye.  He was more dangerous, cunning than I had given him credit for.  I was watching him closely now.

As darkness filled the bedroom, I walked close to the bed.  I stood over John, studying his face.  I can see better than a cat in the dark … nothing escapes me.

John opened his eyes, looked straight into my face never knowing I was there.  He sensed something not right, sat up.  I smiled at him … cold, dangerous smile sharp as a knife. Soon, John … soon.

I could take him now, but then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of ending the life of a serial killer. I wanted to kill him as he was trying to kill another victim.  Die in the act of taking another child’s life.

I stood on the porch in the darkness as John watched with deep interest the children who played close by under the night lights.

He seemed focused on one child in particular.  I heard the other children call him David.  I heard John whisper one word … “soon”.  He smiled an evil smile.

I smiled at him, knowing this was my watch.  He didn’t have any idea what he was dealing with.

John began humming in a low voice, got up … stepped off the porch.  He walked several steps, bent down to straighten his pant leg.  I was slightly puzzled as what John was up to.  Was he going to take the little boy tonight?

John began walking briskly, increased his pace as he walked up the sidewalk right by where the children were running, laughing, playing.

The children saw John, came running to him.  Come play with us, John.  You can be It!

John engaged the children in conversation as his eyes scanned for the chosen one named David.  Where was he?  His tongue wet his lips, a little drool spilled down his chin.  Mmmm-mmmmmmm, he was feeling hunger pangs.

Michael had been a very small child. He didn’t last long.  Now David … was a bigger child.  John knew this boy’s young, tender flesh would be tasty.

David sat on a foot tall brick wall that surrounded a flower garden under the night light.  He watched this new neighbor who had made friends with everyone … not him.  He didn’t like John.  John scared him.

Come play, David!  One of the children called out to him.  He wasn’t going near John, he felt afraid.

The children pulled John by his hand.  Let’s play!  Let’s get David and play before we have to go to bed.  You can be It while we run, hide!

David felt fear he’d never felt in his young life.  I walked to stand beside David.  No one could see me. As long as a shadow was close by, I couldn’t be seen.  I was a shadow, I was the darkness.

I placed my hand on David.  He was trembling.  I whispered in his ear … he heard the breeze telling him he would be safe, not to be afraid.

The trembling in his little body subsided.  David told the children he would play with them.  John walked up to David, introduced himself.  He held his hand out for a handshake … David waited a moment, then shook hands with John.

The game of tag began.  John had to sit on the little brick wall, hold his hands over his eyes … he had to count to 100.  This was a mixture of tag, and hide-and-go seek.  He would be chasing children to tag them or try to find them.

The game went on for at least 30 minutes.  John told the children he had to go home, it was his bedtime.  The children kept playing until their mothers called them to come inside.

John walked up the sidewalk.  I saw the smile on his face.  John was just before taking a child tonight … I knew the child … David.

I have certain limitations … I can’t be at two places at the same time.  I can travel rapidly through the darkness from one place to the other without being seen.

If there was light … I would have to work my way toward my destination through the shadows, darkness to get back.  I love light, sometimes … it can be my foe, especially when trying to save a life.

I decided to stay with John instead of by David’s side.

At least I would know what he was doing, when he was going to do something.  John went inside his house, took a shower, put on a new change of clothes.  They were all black.  He put on a black toboggan that covered his entire face.  He couldn’t be seen by anyone … but, me.

He walked to the front door, opened it quietly.  John closed it, went to the back door.  He had checked to make sure the children were still outside playing.

He slipped through his back yard, staying in the shadows.  John crossed the street under the shadow of a tree.  He stayed close to bushes, trees so, as not to be seen.

John’s eyes searched for the little boy he had chosen for his meals.  There he was!  David was standing not more than 3 feet from him!  He was hiding from the others.

John struck like lightening. So did I.  As he grabbed David to tear into his throat … John’s head flew off in the air.  His mouth was still opened in a biting grimace.

The child turned with fear on his face.  He couldn’t run … he was frozen with fear.  I knew he was safe now … I could go.

Instead, for a brief moment I surrounded David with my shadow … filled it with love from my heart. Run, David … run to your mommy!

The child ran, almost tripped over John’s head.  He righted himself, never stopping.  Mommy!  Mommy!

I watched him … I saw the children come running to him.  Help me!  Something bad!  Something bad!  They followed him to his house.

David got to his front door just as his father opened it.  Daddy!  Daddy!  The father instantly knew something was wrong.  He got down to his knee to look into his son’s face.

Little David’s eyes were wide, he was in shock.  Daddy!  Daddy, something bad!  He turned, pointed to the way he’d just ran.  His daddy’s eyes followed the little boy’s finger.

Come show me, David.  David began shaking his head.  I’m afraid, I’m afraid!  His father picked him up in his arms … show me, son.  I’ll protect you.  Nothing can hurt you.

The child pointed the way.  His daddy walked until … he stopped in shock.  Was that a … head?

He stood frozen as his eyes found the body the head belonged to.  What the hell!

David’s father pulled his cellphone from his pocket.  He called 911.

I seeped into the darkness to spread my shadow.  Nearby red lights, blue lights lit up the night. Excited voices, people running, some taking photographs.

I heard someone say, “The little boy was hiding behind this tree. You can see plainly that this man was going to grab him.  By some miracle that little boy was saved.  I wonder what in the hell cut the man’s head off”?

Hey, isn’t that the new guy who moved in 328 Baxley Street?  David’s father walked over to look down at the head.  It was laying on a white tarp now.  The detective held his light directly on the man’s head.

Oh my God, David’s father said.  He and the detective looked at each other.  They knew where the other child went.

The detective spoke to someone, they began walking rapidly toward … 328 Baxley Street.

Photo of When She’s Good … She’s Good.  This is a thin book … it is an introductory to Victoria Fairchild.  I have a copyright for it from Library of Congress.  This is second book I published as an Indie author.




Note by this Author:

This is introducing Victoria Fairchild once again. She is my main character whom I’m proud to introduce.

Victoria is everyone’s best friend … but only … if they are good.  Good doesn’t mean you can’t be bad sometimes … but, good in that you don’t mistreat, abuse, kill others, animals.

I am writing book 2 of The Saga of Victoria Fairchild.  I wrote this story so, my readers could be familiar with Victoria Fairchild.  I will do this at times.

One can see Victoria Fairchild is an unusual person.

She’s everybody’s friend … but, let her hear, see, catch you mistreating someone … know you are in her sights … sooner or later, she’s going to get your ass.  It’s not going to be a pretty picture.

Victoria believes in an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.  Victoria Fairchild is protective of children, animals, elderly, homeless, good people.

Watch your back if you are bad.  There’s always someone bigger, badder than you.

There’s someone always meaner than you.  And … it doesn’t necessarily take a ‘bad’ person to be meaner … they just know how to take care of business, go on about their own, never think about it again.  Don’t kick that dog!

4 thoughts on “The End of 328 Baxley Street

  1. Wow! 😮

    Pretty disturbing hun! 😮

    Trouble is there are real people like this one and no angel to watch over their victims… 😦

    Love and hugs!


    • Prenin, I just began writing again on my book 2 of Victoria Fairchild. I want it to be the scariest book ever. I don’t know if it can be but … I’m going to give it a shot. 🙂 Love, Gloria 🙂

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