Blurb: The life of a serial killer is full of surprises. Sometimes you have to be flexible while choosing the victim and vary the usual modus operandi.

Posted on 2010-10-31

My aunt was in the way, that's why she died. Literally. I mean, I couldn't risk my identity as the Mansfield strangler to be discovered, could I? Not with the recent success and the attention I had received. I admit, I couldn't really bask in the attention, at least not in public, but in secret I did. The famous Mansfield strangler… it sounded good. He was one of the most feared contemporary serial killers; he had already strangled 17 young women in the wider Mansfield area (and killed some more women at other places, but the authorities of course didn't know about that) and still nobody had the faintest idea about his identity.

That is, until my aunt Norris caught me in my sister's bedroom, strangling her. It was almost comical. Me, sitting astride on Maria's upper part of the body, my hands around her delicate neck (my aunt's untimely appearance would not have saved Maria by the way, she had already drawn her last breath), my aunt coming in from the servants stairs, a tray in her hands.

It took her a moment to realise what was going on (after all, my aunt had eagerly devoured every little piece of information about the Mansfield strangler and had had some suspicions of her own about his identity, however, she never suspected me), the tray fell to the floor, the china broke into a million pieces, she turned around to the stairs but she was too slow. A little shove, she lost her footing and fell down the stairs (which are quite steep, by the way, I don't know how servants manage to climb them every day without some accidents), breaking her neck in the process.

I looked down at my aunt's body lying motionless at the end of the stairs. I hadn't planned that. Maria I had wanted dead. I know, I know, she was my sister, my own flesh and blood and that had detained me until now but, Lord!, the last few days she had been particularly annoying so I had decided that she would be my victim number 18.

My aunt on the other hand… she was annoying, too, but she wasn't really the right target group. I preferred my victims to be younger. She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. And she didn't die the usual way, she wasn't strangled, but that didn't matter. Two victims in one night, that was something the Mansfield strangler could be quite proud of.

At that moment I became a bit wistful and thought back to my humble beginnings. It had all begun quite innocently, just a little favour for a friend – who had happened to have an aunt that was in his way. But not quite so literally. More in the way of "Great and everlasting love for the one and only perfect woman", so a little … no, let's say a big pillow was all she needed. In the morning it looked like she had died peacefully in her sleep. I know, this was not my usual modus operandi, but back then I was still experimenting. I continued experimenting for quite some time, too. I tried other methods: Slicing the throat: too bloody. Shooting them: too loud. Poison: too boring. Breaking the neck: I didn't like the sound of breaking bones.

And then I heard the sound of footsteps and suddenly there was another person standing in my sister's bedroom door.

"Cousin Tom, what are you doing here?"

All right, let's make it three victims in one night.