Prolouge:
A tick of a clock. The boom of thunder. These were the only things that Bill Cross could hear, as he nervously drew on a sketch pad what looked like blueprints. It was 2 P.M, and it was pitch black outside except for the occasion of lightning for a split second. The only thing lighting the small living room of Bills house was a small lamp standing on a table beside the chair he was sitting in. Memories constantly haunted him. They flashed in and out of Bills head,taunting him constantly. His hands began to shake, and he shut his sketch book abruptly. Bill was a typical 59-year old man, who always had a set of problems bothering him. But the problem that Bill Cross had, was actually a unknown tragedy. A tragedy no one could ever forget. A tragedy no one could ever heal from.
The Blueprints that he had drawn and finally finished after a couple of weeks, were a solution to solve this "problem". A solution that could finally end all of his pain that he had suffered. Bill had built the blueprints. But the blueprints, were evil. The blueprints planned a sin so sinister that not even an kind man would ever forgive.
Murder
Edited by superdarkyoshi, 16 June 2011 - 10:37 AM.
