Welcome, my little demons, to the NEW monthly feature at Killers And Demons. This feature will take you on a deep dive into some of the evilest minds to have scoured the earth.Serial killers are indeed a unique brand of killer. It was my desire to capture the horrifying nature of such a beast in each of my novels. I wanted to write a book that would capture the complexity of the serial killer and display the depth of such a character. Thus, I dug into the real and the terrifying. Inspired by such books and shows as MindHunter, Criminal Minds, and True Detective, I wanted to weave a tale that would have the reader immersed in a homicide investigation driven to examine more than just the clues. I wanted to take the reader on a journey into the psyche and behaviour of the monster behind the murders.After researching dozens of serial killers, it became apparent to me that these creatures all have a similar set of traits, or components.Thus, our first serial killer feature takes a look at Edmund Kemper. Edmund is a main focus on the first season of MindHunter. I watched this first season twice. Both times I was hypnotized by the words coming out of fictional Edmund’s mouth and the way in which he spoke. After digging into the facts of Edmund, I was horrified and stunned at the realization that he did in fact do everything they showed on the TV series version of him, and more.Edmund is one of the scariest serial killers. Why? Today we talk about his fantasy, his ability to blend in, his tortured child hood, and his ability to obtain a clean slate.His fantasy was extremely clear and vivid. He knew exactly what his end goal was as he practiced the act of murder on a series of victims. In the end, the main thorn in his heel was his mother. Locking him up on multiple occasions with the excuse that she thought he would molest his sisters, and reinforcing her brutal opinion that her son was worthless on countless occasions with verbal attacks. He simply wanted to shut her up, and shut her up he did. In the end, she was his final kill. At least that we know of. He beheaded her, sexually violated her head, and tossed her vocal chords in the garburator. He lived out the fantasy he’d been practicing for.He was a sneaky bugger. Pulled over for a tail light issue, he was so charming and relaxed, the police officer sent him happily on his way. Despite the two bodies that were hidden in his trunk. We may never know how many times he slipped under the radar. He blended in so well, he was a favourite amongst the cops down at the neighbourhood pub. They claimed he was a friendly and likeable guy. Yes, blend in he did.Edmund was tortured early on in his life. The physical and verbal abuse aside, he was tortured internally. He loved to play ominous games having his sister help him to pretend to the was being sent to the gas chamber. Cats couldn’t go around him without a horrifying end.When he was sent to live with his grandparents, he killed them. He started with his grandmother, later claiming that he wanted to know what it felt like to kill a person. His grandfather saw the end when Edmund decided he didn’t want grandpa to live without grandma. Was that the truth? Or did he like the kill so much he wanted another? Either way, he ended up calling in dear old mom for help. Despite the admittance, he was only fifteen, and thus he was institutionalized for a time, then released with a clean slate. It could have been his ability to sway the psychological assessments he underwent in the way he wanted them to go. Or at least it appears so.Why would his slate be clean? He was deemed to he the perfect example of rehabilitation. And why would he later be allowed to assist with the assessment of other inmates and the development of tests for fellow criminals?It’s all rather shocking.If this doesn’t chill your bones, then I don’t know what would.Please come back for next month’s feature on the scariest serial killer.If there is a serial killer you would like featured, pop your suggestions in the comments below.
Crunch. Crunch. Harold stepped along the makeshift trail of wood chips in his brand new hiking boots. Joy scanned the tall, tan tree trunks and took a deep breath, letting the scent of the forest infuse her soul. Crackle. Harold’s clean blue boot snapped a small branch in two. His perfect untarnished boots conquered every stone, branch, twig, and any other obstacles with ease as he walked briskly up the trail. Crack. Crunch. Crack. Joy lengthed her stride to keep pace. She looked down at her shabby brown boots caked in old mud. Not as nice as Harold’s. He always got what he wanted.
She had climbed many peaks towing behind Harold. This one was different. They were in a part of the world new to them. This forest was different. A woody smell replaced the scent of citrus she was accustomed it. It was calming, like the sandstone beads on her mantra necklace. She pictured the necklace resting in her hands as she meditated and washed away every bit of irritating Harold.
Her feet sunk into the soft dirt trail. The sunlight seeped through openings in the trees. A glimmer caught her eye. She paused and looked up. Shiny strands of silk stretched tight, forming a hexagonal pattern. A web. Her stomach tingled. No spider. Her heart sank. Patience. It’ll take hours to reach the top.
Harold was way ahead. She skipped along to catch up. The shiny web remained in her mind. A web was such an intricately woven creation. It took time, effort, and skill to create. Just like the web of lies that Harold had woven through the five years of marital bliss she had shared with him. Bastard. Not to worry. Karma’s a bitch.