9th of October 1808. Windsor Locks, Massachusetts Robert Duncan Clarke hills 23 people in one night. On the second night of his incarceration he is found dead in cell.
10th of October 1901. Dean Gardens. Edinburgh. Mary Caulfield Drowns her two sons in the bathtub and then takes her husbands hunting knife and kills her neighbours Harold and Fleur Westerbridge and their children. She then stabs herself through the heart.
8th of October 1942, Osceola, Missouri. Edmund White, the Local Pastor walks into his church with a shotgun and kills 19 people. He eventually turns the gun on himself.
9th of October 1957. Edmonton, London. Elizabeth Dade lock the doors of the cinema she works in and burns the place to the ground. She dies in the ensuing fire.
It’s just a little after 1am. I wake up because I hear a noise outside. Jim is still fast asleep so I grab my dressing gown from the back of the little wicker chair and step quietly out of the room. I can’t hear anyone down stairs and the security light outside haven’t come on. It was probably Kevin, next door. Since his wife left him he has been drinking a lot and often make too much noise at all times of the day and night. Once I am back in the bedroom I drop my dressing gown over the chair and lie back in bed. Jim rolls over. He mutters something and puts his arm over me. I’m not sure why I am so anxious. I am not scared of the dark, I teach self defence at the college three times a week. The last person that tried to mug me spent the night in A&E. Yet for some reason I am on edge. I can’t help but wake Jim. “Babe? Wake up. Something is wrong.” His eyes flutter open and he is groggy and disoriented. He rubs his face and sits up. “What’s wrong?” I don’t even know how to put into words what I am feeling. I kiss his face. He needs a shave but smells so warm and sleepy. “Sorry. I heard a noise and something just feels… off.”
He rubs his hand over my leg. “Want me to take a look?” “No. I already did.” I feel stupid now for waking him because I thought I ‘felt’ something. There is a crash from downstairs, we both leap out of bed. I follow him down the stairs. Kevin is standing in the Kitchen covered with blood. Jim steps forward. “Jesus Kev! Are you okay?” Something is very, very wrong. Even as Kevin steps forward I act more on instinct than anything else. I push Jim in the back and he falls just short as Kevin swings a hammer. I take a palm strike into the soft tissue of his neck and even as his eyes glaze over, he swings the hammer again. I block it with my forearm and smash my hand into his face. He half steps, half falls backwards and I kick him in his chest. His head hits the cooker with a terrible cracking sound and Jim drops to his side. He checks his pulse but he is already dead.
It is now 9am on the 11th of October. The Police have finally let us go home. They think that Kevin must have had some sort of breakdown. He killed 11 people that night and we would have been next.
We eventually sell the house and move, neither one of us wanted to stay there after that. Almost everyone knows what happened and we loose quite a lot on the sale but enough for the little cottage we have now. It is almost two years to the day when I wake at 5am. Jim isn’t there when I roll over. I walk down to the Kitchen and Jim is naked holding a butchers knife. He looks at me like he has never seen me before. Then he starts to scream and runs straight at me.