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The Solution

The first time that Deacon saw her she was twittering on her mobile. The banality of her conversation contrasted with the smooth perfection of her neck. She was like a young giraffe, all long legs and awkward grace. He was fascinated by her elegant curves, blatantly emphasised by the cheap summer dress she wore. Her short leather boots looked new and didn't match but who cared? She didn't notice him this time, standing there, making notes in tiny precise letters in the notebook that he always carried with him. She would be perfect.

***

Deacon enjoyed the ritual of preparing his writing instruments. The harsh rasp of the knife on the whetstone helped sooth the splinters of pain that pierced his brain. Pain was his companion and lover. The room smelt metallic but that wasn't only due to the sharpened blades and hooks. The closed in air was heavy with old blood and sickly sweet sweat. He tested the edge of the blade on his forearm; its keen edge shaved the fine blond hairs easily. Slowly, he turned the blade and cut deeply into his arm. He smiled as the blood welled up, proof of life, the ink to write his solution.

***

Alyssa slammed the front door. She flung her handbag and mobile onto the passenger seat of her Mum's car, why couldn't Mother show some trust. She just doesn't understand. It made her so mad. Shopping was the solution; that always made her feel better and there was a silk blouse that she had been wanting for ages. With what she put up with, she deserved a reward. Pulling out of the driveway, Alyssa checked her hair in the rear-view mirror. She didn't notice the black Holden with heavily tinted windows parked a couple of houses down. The dark car slowly slipped away from the curb and joined the stream of morning commuters, two cars behind Alyssa.

***

“Mind if I sit here?”

Alyssa looked up from her magazine and shrugged. She was annoyed but the food court was crowded. She had a quick peek as the man sat down with his coffee and paper. He was kind of cute and had the palest ice blue eyes that she had ever seen. Too old for her though.

“I see that they haven't caught the Professor yet,” the man said pointing to a story in the paper. She was vaguely familiar with the article; some maniac was slicing up girls and carving math formulas into their backs. No wonder everyone hates maths.

The man didn't seem concerned that Alyssa wasn't replying. “Did you know that as all matter is made up of waves that we can all be described by a formula?” He asked.

“You mean that we are just numbers? That's stupid, you can't touch an equation,” She said.

The man took a sip of coffee before replying. Alyssa noticed a deep cut on his forearm.

“It's true,” he said, “waves are all around us. Anything can be described by mathematics, even life. You just need to solve the equation.”

“Whatever,” Alyssa looked again at the newspaper and raised her eyebrows, “Anyhow this Professor can't be too smart, he can't even add up.” She pointed to the section in the paper where they had reproduced some of the formulas which had been inscribed into his victims.

Deacon checked and then checked again. She was right. “My God what have I done?”

Alyssa just shook her head as the man stumbled off muttering to himself. No wonder the world is in such a mess, the older generation is clueless!

David was born in Brisbane but now shares his time between Sydney and a vineyard in the Hunter Valley. He has an irrational fear of rejection and felt that being a writer might solve this. It's not the first time that he's been wrong. David is probably best known for his loud and irritating laugh. His short fiction has been published in AntipodeanSF, Planet Magazine, Eclecticism, Infinitas and The Specusphere. David is a member of the Australian Horror Writers Association.