The Grimsby Reaper
Steven Burnett was
known as “Baby Face” to his friends, on account of his youthful looks. The
press called him “The Grimsby Reaper,” on account of he killed his first two
victims, students Mary Davis and Claire Ward, in the apartment they shared in
the North East coastal town of Grimsby.
Steven’s job as a
travelling salesman, selling animal feed to farms, meant he travelled
extensively across the North of England. His killing spree went on for four
years, until he was eventually caught in York one cold December morning.
He had been staying
at a hotel in the city and planned on heading home to Manchester for Christmas.
He had stopped at a newsagent to buy a
packet of cigarettes, when a young police officer, Patrick Keene, on foot
patrol in the city, spotted that the tax disc displayed in his car had expired.
The young police
officer was making a note of the car’s registration, when Steven came out of
the newsagent’s. Seeing the police checking out his car, Steven panicked and
tried to make a run for it. Unfortunately for him, Patrick was the Yorkshire
force’s reigning cross-country champion. He caught Steven without breaking a
When the car,
registered to Steven, was searched, police found a blood-stained towel in the trunk.
Wrapped in the towel was a blood-stained hammer and knife, the gruesome tools used
to dispatch and mutilate his victims. Blood samples lifted from the towel
matched his last victim, Rosemary Stephenson, killed a week earlier in Wakefield.
eventually charged and convicted of the murder and mutilation of fourteen
women. He was sentenced to life in prison.
It was in Durham
prison, thirty-two years later, now aged sixty-two, Steven’s evil black heart
exploded in his chest. He died alone on the cold, hard floor of his cell. Guards
found him the next morning. He had been dead for several hours.
All Steven recalled
of his demise, was a sharp pain in his chest and then a blinding flash. When he
opened his eyes, he found himself stood naked in a field of golden wheat. The
wheat stretched as far as he could see, gently swaying under a painted blue
sky. It was so quiet. A serenity Steven
had never known.
The silence was broken
by the sound of a bell ringing. Steven could see a white painted church, floating
on the sea of gold. He began to walk towards it, brushing the wheat aside.
As he approached the
church, one of the twin central doors opened. A woman, tall with the body of an
Olympian, a goddess, stepped from the church. The long white dress she wore
hugged her athletic figure. Hair golden, the colour of the wheat, fell about
Gracefully, this goddess
descended the church steps and made her way to where he was stood. Steven tried
to cover his nakedness, feeling a stirring he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Is this heaven?”
“For some,” she
replied. Then turned and looked back at the church. “Ladies, if you please?”
Steven watched as
more women began to step from the church. Fourteen of them, if he had cared to
count. All as beautiful and radiant as the goddess. They made their way down
the steps, circling him. Steven smiled and licked his lips. He failed to notice
each of the women carried a hammer and a knife.
“Now, remember, ladies,”
shouted the goddess. “You have eternity. So, take your time and have fun.”
They moved forward,
arms raised. Steven began to scream.
Jon Park lives in the North East of
England. He likes to write in the dark with the Ramones playing loud. If you
meet him, you will need to shout.
If Charles Addams, Edgar Allan Poe, and Willy
Wonka sired a bastard child it would be the fat asthmatic by the name of Michael D. Davis. He has been called warped by dear friends and a freak by passing
strangers. Michael started drawing cartoons when he was ten, and his skill has improved
with his humor, which isn’t saying much. He is for the most part self-taught, only
ever crediting the help of one great high school art teacher. His art has been shown at
his local library for multiple years only during October due to its macabre nature. If
you want to see more of Michael’s strange, odd, weird, cartoons you can follow him
on Instagram at mad_hatters_mania.