Inside the 1976 Windsor Case

A Game

"A Game"

In a small back-country town in Tennessee

September 21st, 2011

The Sheriff’s Office

The intern whimpered, her legs feeling like putty, collapsed under her weight as she held her face in her hands and just wept. She looked over at the sheriff and her scream choked on her breath. The sheriff’s head was bowed, though barely attached at all, as his body was finally slashed in half with a smooth motion by a shadow seeming to extend from the young man.

Blood was flowing over the plastic table in thick streams as the young man sighed. He looked to the intern with a mocking look as he raised a brow as he sighed and carelessly knocked the sheriff’s half-severed head off his neck. The body shivered once and fell over, hitting the ground with a sound thud as the meaty head of the sheriff flew across the room.

It landed in the intern’s lap and she screamed, her legs immediately separating and allowing the severed head to fall to the floor.  She kept screaming with her eyes shut tightly as she tried to curl into a useless ball despite how her nerves kept screaming at her to run.

It was only when the young man took hold of her jaw that she stopped mid-scream to stare, horrified, into red eyes of malicious glee and sadistic pleasure. She winced as he pinched her cheeks in his hard grip and his blunt nails dug mercilessly into his skin, making tears prick her eyes.

He suddenly dropped her, licking away the little blood he’d drawn when he had took hold of her face and smirked. “Let’s play a game.” He said in that sweet voice that seemed to give her cavities just hearing it. “Let’s not...” she tried to beg and she bolted for the door.

A strong arm blocked her way, and she realized with barely-suppressed horror that the arm belonged to the young man gone serial killer. She was about to back away, start to beg for her life when the young man wove his fingers through her hair, drawing it out of its once-neat bun and tossing the hair tie aside. “Let’s play a game,” he repeated and knowing she had no other choice, she licked her lips.

“What kind of game?” she asked; backing away slightly while hoping the young man wouldn’t notice her retreat. He did ad took hold of her hair roughly, shoving her in the direction of the cracked window. “Do you see them?” he asked and the intern felt a loud whimper slide from her lips as she saw the many decapitated bodies outside the cracked glass.

Blood had pooled around each one’s head, all having had their heads hacked roughly and none too neatly. Even the quiet janitor had met the same ill fate, he had left a few minutes prior to the young man coming inside, and his body was leaning slumped against the front desk as if he had been talking to the officer there..

Well if her head had still been there and she had been still alive, thought the intern. The intern felt shivers run along her spine as she barely held back a whimper as the young man played the tips of her hair. It was at her shoulders now and she knew, from past experience, that if she ran without it being tied up, it would get in her face and she would be uncoordinated.

She looked down at her feet and cursed at her low heels. She could have run faster if she had worn some flats, anything but heels. But now she was trapped, in her heels no less, with a serial killer that can use his shadow as a powerful and very, very deadly weapon.

And he wants to play a game, thought the intern with a sickening feeling in her gut. He wants to play a game with me.

I am going to die, she thought as she felt a strong grip on her shoulder hold her steady as her knees became to shift to water in her fear. More tears escaped her and she wished she could just crawl in a hole where the shadows could never touch her again and hide until the young man was arrested and killed in the most mercilessly way legal in Tennessee.

A game…a simple game…then she could go home and snuggle with her cat and pray the young man leaves her alone and she never has to see his face again...

Yes, a simple game…

She is so naïve isn’t she?

What scary murderer would ever let his victims slip away so easily?