Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Michael gave me a gift of sorts, a stolen one

Last evening, in addition to bringing flowers and chocolate, Michael gave me a gift of sorts, a stolen one. I’m not sure I’m ready for it: a digital copy of an unfinished memoir, titled Confessions of a Murderer, lifted from the dead man’s laptop just before the police entered the scene. 
I’ve been reading it in spurts, because I find the writing too raw. Don’t get me wrong: my literary taste is not all that refined. But being in the presence of a sick mind is no fun. 
It scares me to the core.
Even so, I keep going back to it, hoping to find some answers. The more I read, the more convinced I become that my search is futile.
So no, I’m no longer thinking about the killer. There’s no more doubt about his identity. 
Even so, he remains a mystery.

"This was a fascinating and captivating read that had me immersed from the beginning. The story flowed from scene to scene with ease, and as always, the author shows exceptional ability when it comes to storytelling. There are plenty of attention-grabbing moments in this page turner that will take the reader on a truly mesmerizing journey!"

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