I have killed a total of 19 people. This is a chronicle of my search for the 20th lucky person. Not just anyone will do. This person must be special, must be just right. I know in my heart what I am doing is wrong, but to fully understand what I am doing you must first know how I got here. My name is Frank McFadden and I am what the world likes to refer to as a serial killer.
I wasn't always like this I was once a simple kid growing up in a small town in southeastern Indiana. I had two very loving parents and a little sister. My childhood was pretty much just like every other kid in America. I got decent grades in school and the kids loved me. I had a dog name Sage and he was my best friend. My parents got him for me for my 7th birthday, and we were always together doing things. We would spend hours playing out in the woods behind the house. It was late September of 1990 when I first got my taste of death.
Sage and me where pretending to fight monsters in the woods one Saturday afternoon when we came across a dead body. We went a little further into the woods then we normally would go. As we were playing around we came to a small creak that ran through woods and decided to follow it. Pretending that the creak was a breeding ground for the monster. Sage and I where stomping through the water just having the best of times when we came across the body of what looked like a middle aged man. At first I was scared and didn't want to get too close to the body in fear it would come alive and try to eat my brains. I started to move closer and closer to the body with Sage following me close behind. As I inched closer I picked up a stick to defend myself just in case. The body has been there for a while now. You can see that some animals have been eating off the body and his right leg was totally gone. With my stick in my hand I poked the body repeatedly until I was satisfied that he wasn't going to come back to life.
I spent every weekend in those woods with that body. It wasn't until that December that the body was found. The cops said it was a hunting accident, but it didn't look like no hunting accident to me. I have seen enough movies to know the difference. The cops where hiding something, but I couldn't say anything because I didn't want them to know that I found the body a few months before. He was my buddy, my friend, my first taste of death, and the start of something.
