The sound of sirens and flashing lights flooded the quaint homes on blueberry cove. Five police cars surrounded the last house on the street and SWAT agents began spilling out onto the lawn.
“Yo mike you sure this is the right house? Doesnt look like the kind a kidnapper would live in?” Trevor whispered”
“I dont know man this is where the tracker says his phone is” Mike repied.
The two carefully led their group through the perfectly groomed front lawn and up the steps of the front porch.
“FBI OPEN UP!” Mike shouted as he banged on the light blue front door.
Moments later, an old man pulled the door open to greet the officers. He was a small person, only being around 5’5, and was dressed in a creme knitted sweater with beige straight pants. His small patch of grey hair remaining on his head was perfectly slicked back and his whole demenor was very clean and put together. Trevor glanced at Mike with a look of uncertainty
“Can I help you gentleman”
“Hello sir, My name is Mike Smalls and I am with the FBI, Im sure this is a mistake but we have reason to believe that a missing person we have been searching for is in this house, we need to search the residents for precautionary measures”
The old man chuckled and slid his hand over his head to smooth his hair.
“Oh boy, you dont get that everyday! There must be some type of mistake though because I’m the only on here” The old man replied, “Go on in and look around, I’ll pull out some snacks and coffee for you gentelman.”
“Thank you sir, come one boys” Trevor ordered the group.
The swat team filed into the old man's house and began searching.
Every room was very organized, books color coordinated on his shelves and every piece of furniture decorated with neatly placed pillows. There was not a speck of dust anywhere in the house, like it had just been deep cleaned.
The team searched the entire house and found no trace of other life. No phone, no clothing, no fingerprints, absolutely nothing.
“I dont understand, the tracker says the phone is here and the tracker is never wrong” Mike said.”
“We have to be missing something. Just keep looking, I'm sure we'll find a clue.”
Trevor walked over to the book shelf and started searching. He quickly glanced back and saw the the old man staring at him from the doorway. Interesting maybe theres something here. After a couple minutes of looking, trevor noticed a thin brown book embedded between two thicker copies of the Harry Potter trilogy. He slid it off the shelf and studied the front cover. It was a journal.
“Mike come over here, I think I got something”
The old man began to appear noticeably stressed.
“What is it man”
“Some journal I think”
“Well let’s crack it open”
Trevor and Mike walked over to the floral printed coach, took a seat, and cracked open the journal.

DAY 1
Dear Journal,
Life has been pretty bland these days. I wake up, take my medicine, watch the news, eat turkey and swiss sandwiches, and go to bed. Its like everyday is just me waiting for death to free me from this routine. I need to do something to excite me. Something to make me feel again. Im going to kill a man.
DAY 2
Dear Journal,
I found my target. I was out walking today and noticed a middle aged man carrying his groceries home. He looked weak, which was evident when I easily grabbed him and tied him up in the back of my van. I had a hard time finding a place to keep him, so I decided it would be best if I just left him in my van for a while. He’s currently in there still, crying and banging on the windows, as if there's even a possibility of him getting free. I'm going to go clean out my storm chamber and I'll store him down there.

DAY 3
I sucsessfully transferred him into the chamber and he’s been down there for a day now. Ive made a couple trips down and have been experimenting with different way that would be the most exciting way to kill him. First, I tried using the garden snippers and clipped off his middle toes. That was ok but was not supper easy and would definmitly be alot of work to clip bigger limbs. I then experimented with some golf clubs. I hit him on the side of the head and then in the stomach, which was my least favorite method, definitely not exciting enough. And then finally I found the perfect method. The saw. I was thinking about going for something similar to the medievel torture device where humans were hung by there ankles and cut down the middle of there body. I tested the saw on his shin, and it was super easy to slice!

DAY 4
I killed him today. The saw worked perfectly, except for the suplus of blood that I had to clean from the concrete floors. It was exzilarating. This was the feeling I had been craving. My levels of adrenaline skyrocket whenever I think about it. I now see how people can become obsessed with murder. It’s an unmatched feeling. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the body.

Mike closed the journal and looked up at the old man. He was hysterically laughing while sipping his cup of coffee.