A string of mysterious deaths plague an FBI agent. His job is to catch a serial killer who has eluded the best of the agency. Through the long nights his brain has begun to degrade. Yet, the death and carnage do little to dissuade his appetite to catch the killer.
As a side note: this was an adventure in stream of consciousness. It was enjoyable to write. You can be the judge if it is enjoyable to read.
The Fantastic Mister Mittens | Fiction
Excerpt:
I hate my job. This is the third high level murder in the last week. I need my damn coffee and an egg sandwich. Why the hell do all these murders have to happen in the middle of the night? This is not some simple murdering scheme. There are always patterns. Why can’t I find the pattern? There are thirty three high level executives dead. They always have to be hit in the middle of the night and it is always the same explosive.