STRANGER

The forensics department of the Nairobi Metropolitan police was a modern equipped laboratory boasting state of the art equipment.

Government pathologist Dr Owuor was a busy man and one of few words, preferring actions.

This morning, he was working on the bodies of the victims brought to him from the "another one" serial killer.

A mysterious, articulate and extremely careful killer who never made mistakes and left no clues to tie him down.

But today was different all together. The pathologist had found tissue remains beneath nails of one victim.

He explained this to Detective Grinch saying ," There could be DNA samples of our suspect in the victim."

"What does that mean in layman's language?", Grinch enquired, lighting a fresh cigar and not as thrilled.

"It means our suspect stretched himself when he took three victims and made a mistake, a very big mistake."

Dr Owuor, retrieved some papers from the lower drawer in the lab, showing them to him.

The pathologist explained, thrilled and almost out of breadth while shuffling the papers.

Detective Grinch did not grasp the scientific thrilled explanation from the pathologist and carried the evidence back to his desk.

Finally after so long, they had found something that tied the culpit to the scene.

The DNA remains of a fourth party was not conclusive that the samples belonged to the killer.

But it tied someone else or atleast provided a link on something concrete they could pursue.

Detective Grinch, signalled his partner across the room to come to over to his desk.

As they reviewed the results once more, something that had always stood out established itself clearly.

Their assailant was not completely human.

This was definitive since the tissue samples were corrupted with characteristics uncommon with normal folks.

Just as they had judged long time ago, about this being bigger than just a serial killer.

However it was or however he/she was needed to be stopped pretty fast.

These last victims plus the carelessness was an indication of desperation and things could spill out of control anytime.

They needed to follow the lead while it was just hot and bring down this inhumane killer once and for all.

This was just the beggining of a chase. And it wouldn't be just any regular chase.

"I will update the Captain, go get ready", Detective Grinch said to his partner, walking towards the captain's office.

All they needed was the go ahead. He would bring the monster back, Grinch swore to himself, death or alive.

**************

STRANGER

"It's been an hour or two since she stood by this penthouse window. But she is not as bored as you probably already are about this piece.

Maybe you are wondering why she can't be precise on how long it has been, worse even, how there's someone who doesn't own a clock in the twenty first century.

Well, there's a huge artistic designer Wall clock that had belonged to a temple, just over the dresser, a proud and only trophy of her week long adventurous hobby as an Antique's collector.

she also hated having to make guesses and one or two hour's is inexcusable. Having facts and being a perfectionist had been one of her biggest weaknesses.

I mean at least it had been, when she used to be holder of the coveted title of the village storyteller.

A position that fascinated and drove spasms of piecing thrill, into the holder's heart, as she struck artistic fear, into a congregation of small humans watching her, eyes wide in awe, literal thirst dragging them deeper and fear of the unknown completely evident.

That was a month ago and time isn't of essence to her anymore. Nevertheless, staring at the golden rays of a sunrise on an early summer morning,complimented by a crystal clear blue sea and a matching magical blend of a perfect cloudless sky and a dock town laying way below ,should be added in a thousand artistic ways to loose track of time.

The intriguing serenity, the tourist's crowding the dock curio shop ready to choose from the new goodies before anyone else does,

the ferry roaring to life ready to transport human life across, was a worthy sight for anyone and also a blissful town to wake up to.

A huge inspiration even to some author, for an award winning story, but not for her, if the manuscripts rolled into balls of waste inked paper lying around the floor were anything to go by.

Have you ever stared at the bubble of people in a highly spirited mood, greeting each other cheerfully, the random passionate hugs and walking off to their jobs hurriedly with the precision of knowing where they are headed and felt nostalgic?

Does a nauseating feeling of being lost cloud your conscious making it almost hard to breath, slowly suffocating?

A painful feeling of not belonging and loneliness that makes you ask more questions and almost loose sanity?

Well, you are sailing in the same boat as she stoos in the cage watching the hype just out beyond yet looks too far.

If you feel or have felt this, please remember to ink this stranger a letter in your warmest fonts plus a favorite emoji.

Also, forget not to change the address to a small pent house in the capital, that rarely sees any visitor opening its door except the newspaper boy.

If you had the other address, now would be a great time to inform you that she let go the cozy wooden cabin, after quitting her fishing role, a letter there might go answered.

The fishermen had been great company if you need to know, but the waiting for fish to take her bait got too boring three days later and having exhausted the fishermens adventure stories that they had so generously told of, coupled by her end of the investigation, she had to leave.

To make up for not sending you a catch, you could visit the beautiful tropical forest in summer and harvest some honey, if the hive she had placed there that weekend after reading how marketable honey was but used to ferry drugs, still stands.

she has nowhere to be today and watching the people open up their shops while others are off to work makes her envy them.

The only exception, is the dock guitarist seated in the street, beautifully stroking the strings of his instrument such a skill, his eyes closed.

The reason she doesn't envy him being she knows how troublesome it will be for him sleeping after the painful cuts of the strings in his fingers.

Entertaining people in the plaza last summer using only a differently coloured instrument but a replica of the brand he is holding , was enough experience to make her know what to wish for and "joys" not to envy.

If someone else comes across this they might think she doesnt have anything to do.

Well, that's absolutely right, but not having work to go to doesn't mean she is lazy. She has been up all night to be precise.

The partially torn and shapelessly rolled paper balls manuscripts are what she got to show for that.

The writing talent she had told John she thought she had, an year ago, while we were training the chief's dogs tricks.

A hobby she had picked up after overhearing him brag in the tavern later approaching him for a partnership, is what she is currently doing.

she still has no idea where to start writing or what to compose a story about but someday if she writes a simple script, a comic even, that will need a super human, John might be the name she would use.

He had gone back to the chief's palace to continue training the dogs after the giant, German Shepherd had torn the leather off his boot and chased them around in circles and finally out of the compound.

This, she had been informed of by Njiru, the village businessman when he had visited the city.

she could have known of course but the chase had made me her pack her belongings the next day and join her old friend Bundi, as an apprentice, in the village medicine man expertise.

Now that she had decided to give writing a try, she was struggling to scribble down her feelings, the little insecurities that had been tearing her down yet she couldn't talk about,

and she also wanted to ink down someplace for memories sake,the names of the few real friends she ever had.

She had ran around for so long trying to find a place to call home, find some peace and even settle yet all she had done was sink deeper into a dark abyss becoming a broken stranger to herself too.

she had been trying to pick up a few more hobbies and somehow she was at a loss.

For now she would have to try Johns' advise on becoming an author, four hours later as they played chess,on that fateful day.

Words that hadn't struck home until now as she collected the waste manuscripts off the floor and settled back to her desk.

Words that he had simply spit knocking her off with a check mate saying,"If you ever write, Let the ink bleed in paper and release your pain.

Don't hold back no matter how compelled to you feel .Keep sharing with other stranger's if speaking out to a friend is that hard.

Travel the world in scribbles and tear off chapters you think don't colour your world the way you want it to be.

Explore, be happy and share love along not war, these are your roles writer. if you decide to write."

****

Madam Grace, placed back the just folded paper in the desk and started pacing around the room.

She had been trying to update her fictional work which couldn't really pass as one creative piece, according to her.

She actually was telling her story only having used a different persona in doing so. A story that involved so many incomplete puzzles.

A story she had longed to tell of for so long but had always torn the manuscripts or shoved the idea aside.

A story that so many would contemplate as unreal and not liveable but one she had experienced every bit.

Writing at her desk in work, one she rarely spent time around was impossible by all terms.

Scribbling while transitioning from this part of the nation to the other plus the nature of her job was also out of question.

Now the freedom her penthouse home provided by the shore seemed to be working in her favour.

It had been two weeks since she had been suspended from work over accusations of gross misconduct.

This had however not been the first time this had happened to her.

She knew, understood and served the law but also reasoned sometimes you have to break a few fingers,

to ensure no other arm tried to be longer than the law's.

She slowly drifted into the memory of what had her suspended and smiled.

It wasn't so funny but she was not remorseful for doing so.

"Would she repeat it again if she found herself back in the same situation? damn right. Not even a second thought."

She however hoped this did not paint the station in bad publicity and she would be the only bearer of her actions.

Though that rarely happened and some blame on the station was inevitable no matter how much she wished.

However, all she knew was the greater good could only be achieved through some sacrifices.

The high pitched shriek of her phone in the desk brought her back to reality, with a light sigh.

She picked by the third ring and a cold authoritative voice roared ,"You are needed at the headquarters Inspector. Immediately."