All Hallow's Eve: 1st Place Winner "Serial Cleanser"

His loud sniffling was deafened by the sounds of Crystal Castles blasting through his speakers. Volvos were always known for having decent speakers, if his memory didn’t deceive him. But Gregory never really cared for loud music...unless, of course, it had to do with weird screamo-punk-indie-techno bands. His father always said, “Go big, or go home!”, right? And so, he listened to Crystal Castles at its highest volume, because he had to go big, since going home wasn’t exactly an option.

His dark blue Volvo raced down the highway, as the lights of the town he had spent the night in faded into the distance. He passed by lots of different signs--one that told him which number to call if he got in an accident, one warning him about dubious inmates from a nearby prison, and another that had a missing girl’s face on it. Spooky. Gregory enjoyed driving on the highway, since it was really the only time he could be alone. He also liked the darkness...but he guessed that was a pretty common trait among his character archetype. Darkness, death, destruction--the normal malevolent horse hooey that’d get Hot Topic customers begging for more. That sort of character archetype is perfect for driving on a highway at 3:37 in the morning. And Gregory was nothing if not compliant to his character archetype.

Mouth-breather. God, he hated being a mouth-breather...but the woman he slept with the night before had a cold. And when you’re in such close proximity with another human being, it’s almost impossible not to catch their disgusting mouth/body/what-have-you germs. He abhorred germs, and couldn’t really understand why people couldn’t just keep their damned bodies clean. Usually people that had so many germs were mouth-breathers. In his time on planet earth, Gregory had come in close contact with a few different mouth-breathing idiots. Most notably were his younger brother, Tommy, who had been a mouth-breather all of his life, Cindy Garfield from third grade, and most of the anime club from his high school. It’s really astonishing how little of the human population is able to actually use their noses in a functionable fashion. And here sat Gregory, stuck with a cold, sitting in his own misery as he failed to use his nose in said functionable fashion.

Now, Gregory, being the complicated person he was, wasn’t really the type to let his insufferable cold get him down. Even though his sinuses were clogged to hell and back, he was an eternal optimist to the core. After all, even though he had this incessant sniffle, the Evangelion theme song just came on! And who can’t be happy when singing along to Japanese pop tunes? Tapping his fingers on the beige steering wheel, he recollected his victories of the night before and the woman he’d been with.

She really was a pretty girl. Prettier than a lot of girls he’d been with lately. And that was impressive, since Gregory wasn’t exactly the type to settle. Gregory certainly had a type he’d go after. This woman was a lot like most of the other ones. Striking blond hair that clung to her back like pale vines. Light green eyes that reminded him of grass on a football field. She was taller than a lot of them. He prefered the shorter ones, but he was never really the type to judge a person’s height, especially when he stood at the towering height of 5’6”. Height was irrelevant--it was the type that mattered. That harsh-tempered, bright eyed, title wave of a girl; preferably one who had that blonde hair and those green eyes. Preferably a goddamned mouth-breather.

Physically, she looked a lot like Cindy. But she didn’t really act like her, so the effect wasn’t really what he wanted it to be. However, Gregory wasn’t necessarily the type to complain, so he decided he would take her anyway. A mouth-breathing, green-eyed blonde? Definitely not as common as one might think. She would’ve been perfect if she’d had Cindy’s personality.

But it’d been a long time since he last saw Cindy Garfield. She moved to Nebraska after 3rd Grade and had stayed there ever since, and he was grateful for a long time once she left. She was a spiteful, rotten jackal of a girl, without anything nice to say. Gregory’s mother always told him she was mean to him because she liked him...but she started up a trend that would follow him all the way through high school. It was her fault that even the kids on the tech crew wouldn’t let him into their Dungeons and Dragons group. It was her fault that Jennifer Goldstein wouldn’t go to prom with him. It was always Cindy’s fault.

It didn’t bother him at first. Especially when he had finally gotten out of high school. But once he was in college, it began to eat at him. It didn’t matter that he was on a full-ride to Johns-Hopkins. It didn’t matter that seemingly all of the girls in college wanted to date him, and that his professors thought he was brilliant. No, he couldn’t get Cindy Garfield off of his mind. He saw her everywhere he looked. Every little girl with those striking green eyes reminded him of her. He would look at blonde girls all over campus, and wonder in vain if any of them were her. He needed revenge. He needed revenge for third grade, and every year after that. Once the dreams started, it was clear: he had a destiny. He had to kill Cindy Garfield. And any girl that even slightly reminded him of her. He had to get rid of all of them. For all of the men and boys that had been hurt by them. For everyone in the future who might be hurt by them. It was the responsible thing to do, after all. If you have a destiny, you’re supposed to follow it! And if his destiny was to rid the world of Cindy Garfields? He’d be happy to oblige.

The girl last night was definitely not Cindy, though. She didn’t put up any fight at all. She just sort of laid there, whispering something that Gregory couldn’t hear. She did cry a lot, but not very loudly. He watched the tears roll down her cheeks as she asked for him to “P-please stop??”. But honestly, what was she thinking? Didn’t she know how difficult it was to do any real damage with a pocket knife? Honestly, she had to give him some respect. He wasn’t going to stop while he was ahead. No good cleanser would do that. She was too polite, honestly. He was bored to death. Pfft. To death. Gregory was a funny guy. But he still cleansed the world of a blonde-haired, green-eyed, mouth-breathing floozy. He’d call that a job well done, even if her personality wasn’t really up to parr. And so, he’d turn up the music, and smile wickedly at the job he’d done the night before. Yes, he cut her up really well. He was proud of it.

And would you look at that! Crystal Castles came back on. They would work for now, considering their music was perfect for a victory lap across the highway. He hummed again, his lips curling farther up into a goofy grin. Yes, this was certainly the life. Much better than college. Much better than girls. Much better than being loved by his family. He giggled slightly and sniffed again, before daring to roll his windows down. The wind coursed through his dark hair, tousling it into a messy tumbleweed. Tonight was one of those nights that would go down in the books--not just because the blonde girl was a good kill. But the feeling it gave him. A feeling that he couldn’t fight or shove down. Happiness? Yeah, it was probably happiness.

He allowed himself to wallow in this feeling for a few more minutes, before he saw it. No, not it, her. She was standing with her back facing the field of corn, her blonde hair whipping in the breeze. Her left hand was in her pocket, her right arm stretched out, with her thumb facing up. A hitchhiker? Perfect. He was in need of a little more adventure, because of this great mood he was in. Normally, Gregory put a lot of thought into the girls he would take, but for whatever reason, he was feeling pretty reckless tonight. And so, without a second thought, he pulled over and turned on the light inside the car. The girl moved towards the car, her blonde hair the only thing that differed her from the shadows. Gregory quickly checked his shirt to see if he’d remembered to change it--he really didn’t want to freak her out. That would certainly be counterproductive, since she wouldn’t want to get in the car, and then he wouldn’t get the chance to...well...you know. Luckily, his shirt was clean. It was a Rolling Stones one. Good. He liked this shirt because blood washed out of it better. That’s an A+ aspect of a shirt. Also, he really liked the Rolling Stones.

The girl slid in, and Gregory knew immediately that she was perfect. Her eyes were greener than he’d seen in a while, and her hair was a light blonde, mirroring that of Daenerys in Game of Thrones. He would be lying if he said she wasn’t one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen. He would probably want to sleep with her if it weren’t for the fact that she so directly resembled Cindy. But she did closely resemble Cindy Garfield, and therefore, she was the scum of the earth: most of these blonde girls were. This particular Cindy replica was shorter than the last, and would probably put up far less of a fight than the last one. She really was attractive. This fatal attraction made Gregory’s words clamp up in his throat--forcing him to debate on whether he’d rather kill her now to avoid uncomfortable confrontation or to simply remain silent until her inevitable blabbering began.

Without even having a second more to ponder the issue, the latter was chosen for him. The blonde girl began talking without warning. From where he was sitting, he could see that her lips were coated in red--the kind of color you would see in a 1950’s Coca Cola advertisement. Her teeth were blindingly white, and her voice was as sharp as the razor blade the last replica had begged so quietly not to be cut up with. It was deep too--deeper than a woman of her stature should have. She spoke fast. Gregory liked people who could speak fast because that meant that they could probably continue in intelligent conversation. Hopefully she’d be smart.

“Thank you so much for picking me up,” She began, deciding that she had enough power to turn down the Crystal Castles album that had been roaring through his speakers. This made Gregory cock an eyebrow...he would suspect that powerful and demanding women were his type, but he never really had time to think on it. After his Cindy-genocide was complete, he would contemplate it, but until then, he had other business to attend to. She continued, “I was getting so tired sitting out there. Plus, I think it might rain soon? Yikes. That would probably be bad, right?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I’d prefer to sit in the rain? But that might just be me,” He retorted. Cindy 16.0 was clearly a talker. He was a talker, himself. Perfect. “Also, no problem. The pleasure is truly and absolutely mine.”

“I’m all for wind. It makes me feel like I can fly,” Cindy responded, slumping back in her chair. Gregory glanced at her, only to find that some of her hair had gotten stuck to the headrest on the car seat. Staticy hair? That meant it was clean. This one would probably not give him any sort of disgusting germs. Even better. “So. What were you doin’ on this lone and desolate road? Party at a friend’s? Scootin’ around just for the hell of it?”

“Eh, I like to travel. Lots of time to think. I’m really not the type to stay in one place.” He made sure not to add the real reason why he didn’t like to stay in one place. If he would stay in one place, he would go to jail. And in jail, he couldn’t work on his novel, wear flannel shirts, OR kill every girl that even mildly resembled his third grade nemesis.

“Ooh. Dark and mysterious,” She smiled. “Cool, cool. I mean, I guess I’m sorta the same way...but work makes me travel around too.”

Gregory glanced at her again, both eyebrows raising over his round glasses, “Oh?”

“Yeah, but it’s lame. Just super boring...social work stuff.” She trailed off, turning her head to stare out the window.

“That’s vague,” He responded, “But I guess you would rather not talk about it. So I won’t press any further.”

She nodded her head, and began to tap her foot against the carpeted floor of the Volvo. The silence was almost unbearable, but Gregory didn’t really want to press any further questions. Finally, the girl spoke up once more. “Sooooo,” She dragged the word out like that, “Aren’t ya going to ask me why I was standing on a roadside at four o’clock in the morning?” She smiled deviously, turning to face Gregory again.

His brow pressed together slightly. He didn’t actually have a prepared response to this, but then again, he was never one for small talk. If Gregory had it his way, people would just skip pleasantries and get to the meat of the conversation. But on second thought, he realized that although the question she asked would usually be considered as a small-talk question, her voice and facial expression made it seem as if the answer was a secret. “Um?” He responded, clearing his throat, “No. I really wasn’t. Mainly because I don’t really care.”

“Huh. Okay, then.” She tapped her fingers on her leg, hoping that he might respond again. Meanwhile, Gregory was finding it difficult to want to kill this girl. He wanted to see where this conversation would go.

“So, er, what’s your name?” He asked, jeering to the right. The girl slid across her seat, not even flinching. So, she didn’t despise bad driving. This would make for an interesting night, to say the least.

“Alexander Hamilton,” The girl sang, crinkling her nose in a snarky fashion. The reference made a short chortle erupt from the back of Gregory’s throat.

“Ah, a Lin Manuel fan. I suppose we can make it through the night, then…” He paused briefly before folding his legs into a criss-cross-applesauce position. He figured it’d be safe enough, since they were on a desolate freeway at 4:09 am.

“Let’s hope so.” She laughed. Ha. Cute. He loved it when he could launch a surprise attack.

“Where did you say you were headed, again?” Gregory asked, now officially curious about the girl. She clearly had a good taste in music, an interesting view on society, and carried an air of mystery.

“I didn’t. Does it matter?” She asked, folding her arms.

“Well, uh, yeah. Probably.” He frowned, glancing at her again. He liked her hair. It looked soft. And clean. “I mean, considering that I’m driving you somewhere. Which is…?”

“The nearest place I can lay down. I’m knackered.” She wrinkled her nose again.

“We can try to arrange that.” He looked out the front window again, before he realized what he had just said. It probably sounded sinister in a way that he didn’t mean it to be. Even though he was a murderer, Gregory had limits. Consent was an important thing, and no one should ever forget about it. “I...er...didn’t mean for it to sound like that. No, no, no. So uh...please don’t take it that way.” He stuttered out, feeling his cheeks darken.

The girl only laughed, throwing her head back against the cushion of the chair. “Oh my gosh, don’t even sweat it! I didn’t think that’s what you were saying at all.” She beamed over at him.

“But I mean. Aren’t you a little freaked out by the fact that you’re in a car with a complete stranger?” He asked, truly curious. “I mean, you know next to nothing about me.”

“I guess that’s true...I mean, I know you like funky music, but also Hamilton-”

“Which makes me a living, breathing human being.”

“--Exactly! So if you’re a human being, why would you be so dangerous?” She smirked, “Plus, I’m not afraid of you all that much. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“...and how old did you say you were again?” She honestly couldn’t be a day older than nineteen from what Gregory could tell.

“Twenty-four.” She replied tautly.

“Wait...really?” He asked, putting his feet back down on the floor and turning the car off cruise control. “I’m your age.”

“Well, imagine that. Two people in the world that are around the same age. Who’d’ve thunk.” She giggled again.

“No need to be a smart ass.” He laughed in response. Ah, her sense of humor was impeccable. Glorious. But he still needed to get the job done. He couldn’t allow himself to be deterred by her feminine wiles...that would be too...eugh. No. He couldn’t even think of what it would be like to simply drive her to her preferred location. He had a destiny, after all! “But all jokes aside, where are you headed?” He asked that to throw her off the trail. Certainly not because he was wondering where they were going.

“Hmmm…” She bit her lip briefly, “Not sure. Wherever I can spend the night, I guess.”

“Alright. I won’t pose any further questions then.”

“Peachy keen.” Gregory felt her eyes fall back on him from the passenger’s seat. “So, tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up?”

“Aha, and so the turns have tabled. You’re asking me questions now?” He scoffed, light eyelashes blinking in the shadows, “Well, I grew up in a small town in Minnesota,” He began, still determining how truthful he would be about the situation. “And now I don’t live there anymore.”

“Huh,” She darted her eyes to the outside, “Vague again. But I guess I’m from Minnesota too. Pretty cold up there. But I guess it’s cold out here too.” She pressed her cheek to the undoubtedly freezing window. “Especially for Autumn. Why’re you out here again?”

“Oh. Um.” Gregory dangled upon the word. “I guess you could say that I’m on a volunteer trip.” He grinned to himself, deciding that was the nicest way to put it. Right. Service. He was doing a service to the world.

The girl laughed sharply, “Service, huh? That’s pretty cute. But you seem a little introverted.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, “Yeah, you could say that as well.”

“I’m an introvert too. Can’t really stand people.” She took a moment before adding,

“Especially women.”

There was such a clear jolt in the tone of her voice, that he almost felt whiplashed. He blinked a few times, “What?” the word sounded a little choked. “What’s the point of hating women? I mean, especially when you’re a woman, yourself.”

“Oh no,” She laughed again, her voice dripping with honey, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…” She blew some air out, “I meant that I hate women. You know, the type that just fall into all gender stereotypes. The kind that cook and sew and just take care of children all day. It’s sickening.”

“Didn’t know I had such a misogynist in my car.” Gregory said blankly. Although he didn’t necessarily mean it as a joke, the blonde whipped her hair back and roared with laughter.

“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” She shook her head mournfully, her voice still thick from her mocking laugh. “No, you’re a man. They never get it. But you know what? I actually thought you might be different.”

Gregory scoffed, “And how could you possibly think that? You don’t know me at all.”

“Oh, no. Don’t start thinkin’ you’re special on me,” She drawled, her red lips curling up into a smile as she stuck her hands into her jacket pockets. “I always just assume people are going to be different. My mother always did say that we should give folks the benefit of the doubt, y’know? But I’m really not surprised at all. Just thought that maybe you’d be the one.”

“That I’d be the one.” Gregory repeated aloud. This conversation had been ominous to say the least, but it was clearly going downhill. As a serial-cleanser, however, he was used to this sort of thing. Usually he was on her end.

“But you’re not.” She responded concisely, as if she were telling him the earth was round. “You seem familiar, though. Maybe that’s why I thought you’d be particularly different. But that doesn’t matter now.”

He sighed. Now that he thought about it, she looked rather familiar to him as well, but he decided that wasn’t important. She was going to die anyway. “Right, doesn’t matter.” He agreed, focusing his untamed eyes on the dark road ahead.

“Exactly,” She mumbled, fidgeting in her seat. “Because I’m going to kill you, take this car, and get the hell out of the state.”

Her voice was sharp and quiet, like an old record scratching. If Gregory was anyone else, he’d think that she was just messing around with him, maybe even flirting. But there was something in her unforgiving tone that gave away that she was speaking her exact intentions.

“That’s uh.” He swallowed, his saliva feeling suddenly very hot as it trickled down his throat, “Both sudden and...er,” He fumbled for a word, “Daring, actually.”

“Daring,” She scoffed, her mascara-covered eyes blinking twice.

“Well uh, yeah.” He bit his bottom lip tentatively before continuing, “I mean, you have no idea who I am, right? And you’re just assuming you can kill me. Because I...said something you presume to be sexist?”

“Well, yeah!” She shrugged her slim shoulders, “You’re pretty much right, aside from my so called ‘assumption’. I’m not assuming anything. I know I can kill you.”

“Is that so?” He pondered, allowing a small chuckle to escape him.

“Well, uh...duh, I’m the one with the gun.” She revealed the object from the shadows.

Gregory wondered if this was what shock felt like. He didn’t really feel all that surprised by the gun that just came out of nowhere. In fact, he almost felt amused. It was almost as if he were in a story that needed to end quickly. “So...you know how to use a gun.”

“I’m an ex convict. Of COURSE I know how to use a gun. Don’t be stupid.” She shook her head.

“Ex...convict?” He stuttered out. Honestly he really should not have been as surprised as he was, given the blatant foreshadowing used before. Gregory, really. You’re better than this. “Oh.”

“Well, aren’t ya going to ask what I was in for?”Gregory paused for a moment. Honestly, he was curious. But then again, it really didn’t make a great difference to him. She interrupted his thoughts.

“You mean you haven’t seen me on TV.” She laughed, “Wow, I mean, usually they get it quicker than this. Most wanted serial killer? Cindy-”

“Garfield.” He finished. Now this was a surprise. He really never thought he’d actually find her. He really never thought that she’d be so close...close enough to....Have a gun.

“Oh, good. Glad it rings a bell.” She laughed, “Serial killer extraordinaire.”

“I wouldn’t call it extraordinaire,” He argued blatantly. Of course she’d try to best him at this. That was so like Cindy. “Only what? 17 kills? That’s nothing.”

“Like a twiggy little boy would know anything about this.” She rolled her clear green eyes, “I mean, how many kills could you have? Like, two flies?”

He gripped the steering wheel, “Only the necessary evils.”

“You’ve killed people.” She laughed, “You? Really?” His knuckles whitened. He really hated that voice. It was like nails on a chalkboard. “That’s a load of malarky.” He still didn’t speak. She shifted again, “Alright, rookie. Why don’t we have a little contest? I’ll leave the gun here, in between us, and the first to best the other one wins.”

He blinked. Was she just asking for him to kill her? Did she just give him a chance to fulfill his destiny? Gregory almost couldn’t breathe. “Deal.” He choked out. Something like this only happens once in a lifetime. She placed the gun down and folded her arms.

“How many kills, Play-doh Brain?” She giggled, looking up at him again.

“Um…” He thought about it for a moment, feeling caught off-guard “About...43.”

“Wow.” Her voice quieted down, “And you haven’t gotten caught? You’d get the chair for sure if you got caught. I’m amazed that I don’t know your name!”

“I never tell my victims my name.”

“You’re joking. Why not? Get to know ‘em first!”

“No.”

“Come on, tell me your name.”

He glanced at the road.

“I said, tell me your name.”

“Gregory.”

“I knew it.”

A gunshot is heard.