thriller
Motorcycle Murderer
It was a rainy night in November, the streets were cold and drenched with overflowing sewer water. The city of London stank that night, like death itself had arisen from deep below the gutters of England. Although London is typically a city that never sleeps, upon a lonely stretch of road at 3AM, a tired young man named Harry Owen was walking home from work. He had been tirelessly slaving away all night long, but was known to be short tempered at the warehouse he worked in. There were a lot of staff that Harry had bullied or screamed at, some he even got a little physical with, although these aggressions were more often than not, looked over or ignored entirely. It is a stressful job warehousing and you wouldn't believe the horrors that take place in these work environments. Harry was unfortunately one of many strict, stern and scary managers who screamed until their throats were sore. Harry hated himself a whole lot, but it was a job he had to do and was so well accustomed to this toxic work environment he saw no errors in the way he behaved. However, there were people who hated Harry, more than he ever knew. As one of these ex-employees, that was let go for not living up to Harry's unreasonable expectations; he was a man that loathed him so much, he planned his murder! So, as Harry walked home down that cold, London street, the roar of a motorcycle echoed violently down the road ahead of him. Harry paid the bike rider no mind, as the bike neared him. By the time Harry saw the motorcyclist's hand reach out to grab hold of his collar, it was already too late! He screamed as the motorcyclist pulled Harry alongside his motorbike at full speed, dropping Harry before his weight could crash the bike. Harry crash rolled onto the road, every thud against the ground hurt his bones and broke his skin, ripping his clothes, making him bleed! Yet, the mysterious motorcyclist wasn't finished. To Harry's horror, the bike spun round, raced towards him and flattened poor Harry's head before he could even react, his life had ended. The motorcyclist left the scene before anyone found Harry's dead, beaten body, smeared across the road like paste.
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