I have been trying to write a good murder story for years, but the rejections from all the publishing houses came in as fast as I could write. I saved up money from my full time job and bought a laptop. I then set up an Internet account that had an 800 number and bought an acoustic modem so I could call from any phone. I traded my car for a good motor bike and several hiking and camping accessories.
After selling my furniture, and letting my lease expire, I placed half of my money on a prepaid credit card and left the remainder in a savings account. I set out to learn more about life in America and see if I could write a good story, any story, just as long as I get published. Packing many items in the bike’s saddlebags, and the few remaining ones in a backpack, I drove away from the city.
After living in such a large dangerous city for so many years, I was amazed at the simplicity of some areas. People really could leave their doors open at night and walk down the street without constantly looking over their shoulder. After wanting to write a murder mystery for so long, I started seeing how a serial killer could have a field day in the more placid regions, but I realized while these areas were serene they were not totally isolated. The FBI or state law enforcement could come in and have the high tech they needed. Then I thought what if the serial killer broke the mold and did not kill the same way every time, prey on the same type of people, or most importantly what if they did not stay in the same area so the different police departments never linked the crimes together. Would that stop a profiler from being able to pre-guess the killer’s next move?
That night I started typing, but the story did not come as fast or as easy as I had hoped it would. I had never seen any one die, at least not up close. So how could I depict the graphic nature my character would slay these people? I went to a pay phone, logged into the Internet, and downloaded a few interviews of famous serial killers. I stayed up most of the night reading in my little tent the stories of these people. Near dawn, my battery finally gave out. I slept thru the early morning until the heat became too oppressive. I broke camp and stowed everything.
Today I biked for a few hours and came on a small inn that had a good rate. Needing to charge my batteries and take a much-needed shower, I checked in. I slept much of the evening until a couple checked in next door. They must have thought the motel was deserted the way they began carrying on. I considered calling the front desk but I heard the love making take a turn for the worse. The man started becoming abusive to the woman. I could hear him cussing at her. I then could also hear him striking her. The sound of violence began to enthrall me. Although another human was being hurt, I somehow shut that thought out and was instead drawn into the drama of the abuse.
I dozed off and dreamed I was next door with the violent couple. I watched as the man slapped the woman hard enough to send her face into the bedpost. The soft squishy sound it made was unexpected. I was awakened by the sounds of sirens coming into the motel. I opened the door and saw several police officers entering the nearby room. One noticed me, came over, and asked me a few questions. Apparently, the man had hurt the woman badly, but they would not say if she were alive or not. I was asked about what type of car they drove, did I hear them fighting, and did I see the man’s face. I told them I was sleeping most of the night and that I was a very heavy sleeper.
I packed my gear and drove along the interstate for most of the afternoon. As the sun was setting, clouds were starting to form in the east. I had not heard of any rain for the area. I found a state park on one of the exit signs. I took the ramp and followed the arrows. The park was near a wooded lake. I choose primitive camping so I would not have to pay for the night.
I did not turn my laptop on tonight; instead, I sketched a little of what I thought happened in the room next door. After thirty some sheets, my drawings looked almost like a storyboard for a murder scene. I drew a few pages of the man with various weapons. While some of my pages looked very realistic, others did not. Those I worked on and got a few to look more accurate. The light from my fire was dying down and I did not see enough dry twigs or branches to revive it. I went inside my tent and drifted off to sleep.
During the night, I had a little nightmare about being chased by someone. I remembered how he had held the weapon while running and the way he clutched it while he was swinging it. After I awoke, I drew as many of these as I could recall, and the result was very realistic. If I could just capture these scenes in my writing, it would very scary.
I had never taken an interest in drawing more than doodling when I was bored, but whenever I glanced thru my growing sketchbook, I was very impressed with what I saw. For the next two weeks, I would travel a little more than three hours a day, and then I would find state parks that had nice campgrounds and spend the rest of the evening and night there. I also would sketch one or two pages of the parks that I stayed at and occasionally sights along the road that I saw during my drive. I wrote the locations on the drawing so I could use accurate scenes in my story. I rarely used my laptop, but I tried to write one to two pages a night. I was able to recharge my laptop from the bike since I was not draining the battery very much.
At the end of the two weeks, I noticed I was back in an area I knew. When I drove by a motel it struck my why this place was burned into my memory. I stayed once again at the motel where the girl was hurt. I ran the laptop batteries all the way down and then started to recharge cycle to try to keep the batteries in good shape. While the laptop was cycling thru the charge, I took a nice hot bath. A wet wash cloth in public restrooms had definitely not lived up to the cleanliness of a good shower. A soft mattress then beckoned to me. I figured one night off from drawing and writing would not hurt much. That night I again dreamed of the couple that was next door several weeks ago, but this time I was the woman being abused. I could not wake up from the dream until the man had slapped me hard enough that it sent my head into the bed post. I sat up in the wee hours alternately drawing and writing as much of the scene as I could visualize.
The next day I began driving into a metropolitan area and the motel prices were much higher than I wanted to invest. I drove for almost twelve hours before the rural pricing started to take over and I could lodge for the night. I gassed up my bike and got a room. The hotel had a square outside, and had only one door in to access all the rooms. I cleaned up and started the laptop on its charge cycle. I lay in bed and slept in spurts. I woke up at various times thru the night and listened in the dark wondering if I would hear any of my neighbors, but I did not.
I woke early the next morning and sat in the room drawing until check out. I drew several views of my room and how the check in was set up. I drew a maid pushing her cleaning cart and the hallway leading to and from my room. I drew the gas station I had been at last night and my mind began to wonder about what would happen if someone cut the hose leaving gas to run freely and lit it somehow. The idea was more destructive than murderous, so I doubt I can work it into my story, but I still drew a few pictures with the smoke clouds and broken glass. After packing my gear, I drove away from the inn and back to the interstate.
I started heading south. The summer was almost over and if I wanted to be able to make it outdoors, I would need a warmer climate. I stopped almost every evening at a state park. I had good luck with the weather. Whenever it looked like rain, I found a motel and in three months of being on the road, I only had to stay one day out of seven at a motel due to weather. All my motel and park visits were one night only. I wrote a little bit on the laptop every day. The story was not coming fast or easy, but at least I was getting some of it done. I was just passing 150 pages.
When I made it about halfway thru Texas my luck changed. I arrived at a park around dusk and started my normal routine of setting up my tent, starting a fire and drawing until I grew tired. As the fire was dying I packed up my drawing materials, put my laptop back into its case, and was walking towards my tent. I am not sure what happened next, but best I can tell I was struck over the head by one of my assailants. When I regained consciousness, I was tied, gagged, and my clothes were removed.
Three men were standing there undressing. I tried to wiggle free, but the ropes were tied painfully tight. Each man took at least one turn raping me. When they were finished with me, they started going thru my stuff. They took my computer, my billfold where I kept some of my cash and my credit card. I was lucky they did not find the keys for my motorcycle or they would have taken it as well. They knew time was short because some one could come along and catch them. Before they left, one came over to me and told me not to report them to the cops or they would kill me. He emphasized his point by kicking me several times.
I passed out after they left. I was awakened the next day when two park rangers found me. They called the police and an ambulance. The police got there first and while waiting on the ambulance to arrive they took my statement and sent out an APB with a description of the three men that attacked me and put a trace on my credit card and reported it as stolen for me. The police officer helped load me onto the ambulance and assured me he would gather my belongings and hold them for me till I was ready for them. I passed out on the way to the hospital from the pain in my side.
Posted by shannonwagoner
at 11:03 PM EDT
