In the rainy realm of twilight, a dark alley lit up by the cascading flashes of red and blue, disturbing what usually would be a peaceful evening. Police officers and personnel scurrying around like ants in a hive, a body lay in the center of all this pale and cold seemingly detached from the rest of the world. Disturbing this scene was a man around 40 years of age, the bags under his eyes showing the decades of darkness he has seen.

Glenn Harker a detective of the police department for some 20 plus years, the last 10 of which had been dedicated to a single case, The Wraith. A name, but also more than that a personification of fear. It is unknown whether it is a man or a woman for no evidence was ever left save for a message written in the blood of each victim, detailing their sin.

For over 10 years the wraith had killed a single person every month without detection an eye witness or even a shred of evidence. Glenn peered at the most recent victim a business man by the looks of him clothed in a bespoke suit and a gold watch. His face was abnormally blue and swollen, it was obvious why a silver chain wrapped around his neck squeezing it like putty.  Next to the body written on a pristine piece of paper using blood as the ink lay the wraiths complementary note. “A man, wealth and Greed formed his Creed, so I plant Justice Seed.” It was the same as the others, a sickening rhyme detailing the victims supposed sin. “It is so much harder now.” he thought. Originally there was a large team of investigators working on the case but as the years passed and no evidence was ever found people began to get tired and afraid. One by one they would transfer stations or move out of town, leaving only him to see the case to the end. But there was something he had never told another soul, 4 years into the case a pattern had formed, a numeric code, the street addresses of each victim had begun to spell out messages. The wraith had been contacting him directly with these messages. “Hello Glenn, you seem to be an avid fan of my work, going to each exhibit, so how could I not contact my biggest fan?!” This was the first message he had decoded and how it all began. Now after every kill the Wraith left a message especially for him. Clearing his mind of these thoughts He left the crime scene and returned the precinct, dreading the next message to come. At his desk one of his coworkers dropped of the victim’s personal information including the address. With dark thoughts he began to decode the message. “ Heeeyyyyy, Glenn its been so looong since we decided to talk. I feel like its finally time to meet in person, dontcha ya think? How about your place, tonight, I’ll be waaaiitiing……….”  In an instant fear clutched his throat, making it hard to breath and he felt as if his heart was tearing itself out of his chest with how fast it was beating. He fumbled with the medication he hadn’t taken in over 20 years, designed to keep him calm, he took one and tried to relax. “There’s only one thing left to do.” He thought darkly. He had to go home and face the killer. He could not bring the other police to his house without tipping the killer off, not to mention the fact he couldn’t explain the killer had been in contact with him for over 6 years.

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With a heavy heart he loaded his service piece, something he had had to use only a few times before, and headed to his car for the long drive home.

He pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine sitting silently in his seat for a time. Slowly he got out of his car his pistol drawn and hands trembling, and walked to the door to see a message painted on it. “I’mmmmmmm Heeerrrreeeee!!!!” The cold sweat on the back of his neck getting thicker. He slowly pushed open his door and breathing silently made his way to the living room. It was a mess, decor strewn throughout the room and photographs everywhere. He picked up the photo and a strangled scream came out of his throat. It was a picture of one of the victims, a girl, before she died with a look of sheer terror on her face. He threw the picture down and looked at the other ones, they were all the same, the victims moments before their deaths begging to be saved with no one to answer them. He tore his eyes away from the scene and looked at the wall where another message was scrawled. “ Dooowwwwn The Haaallllll……”  He suddenly felt as if his house had never felt as foreboding as it did now.  He slowly made his way down the hall until he made his way to the only door there …the bathroom. ON the door a message was written “IN HERE!”  he slowly pushed open the door inching into the dark room. He went for the light switch, when suddenly accompanied by a cold breeze a figure flew towards him. Scrambling backwards he slipped and fell his head cracking against the corner of the counter. Blood flowing from his fragmented skull and his vision growing dark, a final message, at the top of his bathroom mirror, seemed to mock him. “DO YOU RECOGNIZE ME YET??”

On This fateful day a man diagnosed with schizophrenia at the age of 13, Glenn Harker also known as the Wraith passed away.