Missing Persons
Chapter 2
I couldn’t get the image of this boy and his family out of my head, so I decided to find out more about his family.
‘The Askew’s were a well off English family, who prided themselves on living in London since the early 1800’s. On the night of July 14th 1897, their house was hijacked by cannibals who ate everything, but the casket of Mr. and Mrs. Askew. Their boy was never seen again.’
I was intrigued. I wanted to know more.
I went to their house, a big old English-style one, off the main road towards the country. I knocked and no one answered, so I went in. Inside was what you would expect from a typical ‘superior’ family, But what struck me as odd was that everything was clean… yet the kitchen smelt like death. And it wasn’t an old smell either.
I looked around for a bit and found the basement bolted shut, but thought nothing of it. So, I went back to the station to ask Tom what he thought of the situation.
***
“Tom?”
“Yes Sir?”
“What do you think of this?”
I told Tom all about the house and what had happened there. His reaction was quite bleak, so I queried him on it.
“Well, Sir, I find it quite strange that the kitchen would smell like that. See, the house was scrubbed so from top to bottom, so as there was no trace or smell of the blood.”
“And you know this how?”
“Well, I do my research Sir, and I know for a fact that all crime scenes are cleaned up. So, I find it rather odd that the kitchen would still smell. Are you sure that there was no one there? Or, that there was no proof of anyone being their recently? But I’m just the paper boy Sir.” He did have a point.
So why WAS the basement bolted shut? Surly they would have opened all the rooms to look for the boy….
***
We had gotten some complaints down at the station. Apparently there was a foul stench coming from the direction of the Askew house, they wanted us to please check it out because it was frightening the neighbours. I took Constable Damian with me to have a look.
Pew, that is shameful. I can’t even imagine what that is.
“What the…-” started the Constable.
“That what I told you about, accept it was coming from the kitchen last time and it wasn’t this bad.”
As we approached the basement, we noticed that the door was open.
That wasn’t like that last time-
“There we go pretty; wont be long now.” Cooed a torturous voice.
Who’s that?!
We walked in on a gangly young man, who seemed to be standing over a cauldron. As quickly as we had seen him, he vanished.
“Who was that?!”
“Not sure Damian, not sure.”
In the cauldron was what looked like a meat stew.
***
As we made our way back to the car, I realised who it must have been.
Right there in front of me and I didn’t even realise it!
So I went back to the drawing board. I made a note of what Tom had said, and what Damian and I had witnessed, and I realised it all was clear. I had spent six months investigating the missing persons, and the list had just kept growing uncontrollably.
It all had to do with the Askew boy; Leslie.
Two weeks later I went to go back there for a proper look, but I had to be prepared and I had to be alone, or else my plan wouldn’t work.
It was midnight on August 4th when I finally got my act together. I was outside the Askew house and it was a freezing night; well for August anyway. I knew what I had to do. I made my way up the front stairs and through the front door. So far so good. I had memorised the house, all of its objects and details.
I went down to the basement. My blood ran cold. There it was- The high pitch scream I had hoped not to hear.
That is where I found the Askew boy, sitting in a puddle of blood. Eating the arm of a blonde 27 year old named Joanna. I had just been to visit her family, to reassure them that I would try my best to get her back safely.
Well, I got her back at least…
Leslie Askew had his mother’s blond hair and blue eyes, and his father’s build. He was pasty from being inside the house, locked in the basement, stewing his victims. He was mentally unstable, which wasn’t his fault, I mean; look at what happened to his parents right in front of him when he was a boy.
He told me they had been eaten in front of him by cannibals form the east, a habit he himself had indulged in since.
I asked him why he did what he did. He told me simply;
“It makes me happy.”
“But why?”
“It makes me feel alive, it proves my existence...”
I’ll never forget Leslie Askew, the most infamous serial killer of my time. He is now in the mental institute in Surrey. And me? Well I sit here waiting for another case. This time around, I don’t care if it’s real or not.
‘The Askew’s were a well off English family, who prided themselves on living in London since the early 1800’s. On the night of July 14th 1897, their house was hijacked by cannibals who ate everything, but the casket of Mr. and Mrs. Askew. Their boy was never seen again.’
I was intrigued. I wanted to know more.
I went to their house, a big old English-style one, off the main road towards the country. I knocked and no one answered, so I went in. Inside was what you would expect from a typical ‘superior’ family, But what struck me as odd was that everything was clean… yet the kitchen smelt like death. And it wasn’t an old smell either.
I looked around for a bit and found the basement bolted shut, but thought nothing of it. So, I went back to the station to ask Tom what he thought of the situation.
***
“Tom?”
“Yes Sir?”
“What do you think of this?”
I told Tom all about the house and what had happened there. His reaction was quite bleak, so I queried him on it.
“Well, Sir, I find it quite strange that the kitchen would smell like that. See, the house was scrubbed so from top to bottom, so as there was no trace or smell of the blood.”
“And you know this how?”
“Well, I do my research Sir, and I know for a fact that all crime scenes are cleaned up. So, I find it rather odd that the kitchen would still smell. Are you sure that there was no one there? Or, that there was no proof of anyone being their recently? But I’m just the paper boy Sir.” He did have a point.
So why WAS the basement bolted shut? Surly they would have opened all the rooms to look for the boy….
***
We had gotten some complaints down at the station. Apparently there was a foul stench coming from the direction of the Askew house, they wanted us to please check it out because it was frightening the neighbours. I took Constable Damian with me to have a look.
Pew, that is shameful. I can’t even imagine what that is.
“What the…-” started the Constable.
“That what I told you about, accept it was coming from the kitchen last time and it wasn’t this bad.”
As we approached the basement, we noticed that the door was open.
That wasn’t like that last time-
“There we go pretty; wont be long now.” Cooed a torturous voice.
Who’s that?!
We walked in on a gangly young man, who seemed to be standing over a cauldron. As quickly as we had seen him, he vanished.
“Who was that?!”
“Not sure Damian, not sure.”
In the cauldron was what looked like a meat stew.
***
As we made our way back to the car, I realised who it must have been.
Right there in front of me and I didn’t even realise it!
So I went back to the drawing board. I made a note of what Tom had said, and what Damian and I had witnessed, and I realised it all was clear. I had spent six months investigating the missing persons, and the list had just kept growing uncontrollably.
It all had to do with the Askew boy; Leslie.
Two weeks later I went to go back there for a proper look, but I had to be prepared and I had to be alone, or else my plan wouldn’t work.
It was midnight on August 4th when I finally got my act together. I was outside the Askew house and it was a freezing night; well for August anyway. I knew what I had to do. I made my way up the front stairs and through the front door. So far so good. I had memorised the house, all of its objects and details.
I went down to the basement. My blood ran cold. There it was- The high pitch scream I had hoped not to hear.
That is where I found the Askew boy, sitting in a puddle of blood. Eating the arm of a blonde 27 year old named Joanna. I had just been to visit her family, to reassure them that I would try my best to get her back safely.
Well, I got her back at least…
Leslie Askew had his mother’s blond hair and blue eyes, and his father’s build. He was pasty from being inside the house, locked in the basement, stewing his victims. He was mentally unstable, which wasn’t his fault, I mean; look at what happened to his parents right in front of him when he was a boy.
He told me they had been eaten in front of him by cannibals form the east, a habit he himself had indulged in since.
I asked him why he did what he did. He told me simply;
“It makes me happy.”
“But why?”
“It makes me feel alive, it proves my existence...”
I’ll never forget Leslie Askew, the most infamous serial killer of my time. He is now in the mental institute in Surrey. And me? Well I sit here waiting for another case. This time around, I don’t care if it’s real or not.