The Nine Greatest Deaths in the History of Marsden Creek: 1 | By Nick Lachmund

Here I am, ladies and gentlemen, at the end of my journey and the end of our list. Five people have lost their lives since I left Stonewell, but none have died in vain. Now I stand with a smorgasbord of dead bodies in front of me and at least a couple of hours until I die. Never underestimate the importance of creating a good plan.

The Nine Greatest Deaths in the History of Marsden Creek: 1

By Nick Lachmund

For the ‘To the Nines’ Award Part 9


The books at Stonewell were extremely limited, but they included many books of poetry. I ended up reading most of them more than once but one in particular stayed with me. The White Goddess by Robert Graves spoke of the Triple Goddess: a maiden, a mother and a crone. Many a night I went to bed dreaming of the three goddesses, lying dead before me. That’s when I started planning. On Jason’s laptop I found a news article about a mother and daughter that won a three-legged race at the local fete. As soon as I saw the picture I knew that I had found two-thirds of my holy trinity. The mum, late thirties at a guess, looked traditionally beautiful and busty with long dark hair. The daughter, fourteen years old, according to the caption, looked like she was on the brink of transitioning from a pretty girl to a beautiful woman. Even in the black and white picture her nubile body was visible underneath her awkward, childish outfit. I knew when I got out I would find them. Then I would find my crone. But I had someone in mind for that.

When I first got to Stonewell they tried a treatment called electroconvulsive treatment. It was fucking horrible. They would put me to sleep and then I’d wake feeling like my mind had been scrambled. For some reason, flashbacks of the treatment keep coming to me since I got out. After I found and cut the throats of the mother and daughter, I went and visited my crone. Grandma Stella was not at all pleased to see me. She called me a demon and told me that I had taken her only child from her. Her complaints eventually bored me to the point that I strangled the life out of her. I felt something pop inside her neck when I squeezed and I knew that she was done. I kept hold for nearly a minute after she stopped moving though, just to make sure. I called in anonymous tips to make sure all three bodies were taken into the pathology department. My muses were delivered to my old stomping ground. The plan was coming together.

I killed a cleaner and guard on my way into my old workplace. Then I set about making sure that I wouldn’t be interrupted. I emptied about forty litres of petrol over the floor leading to the pathology department. Then I lit it up before I locked myself away. I know that eventually the smoke will get into the refrigeration system in the room and I will suffocate, but I also know that no one can get to me before that happens. I have enough time to experience all three of them before I go. I remove the sheets and move the trolleys next to each other. My goddesses lay before me. The maiden; tight and virginal. The mother; aged with blemishes and flab but still desirable. And the crone; old, frail and hideous, yet somehow still enticing and beautiful in her starkness.

I strip off and climb onto the first trolley. The girl is so tight that I struggle to get inside of her. I eventually find my way in and the squeeze is a mixture of pain and ecstasy. It’s over quickly and I take a minute before moving onto the next trolley. The mother is more accommodating and I enter her effortlessly. I last longer this time, moving in and out of her in perfect rhythm. It takes me about five minutes after finishing to get ready for Grandma Stella. I climb onto her tray but something makes me stop. A familiar pain shoots across the top of my skull. I try to refocus on the creases across her neck, to savour the smell of the smoke coming for me. Nothing. Just pain, brightness and confusion. My eyes shoot to the roof and a sense of déjà vu collapses down upon me. The roof seems familiar. It looks like the roof in the room they used to give me the shock treatment. But it can’t be. I’m not there anymore.