Encounter with Serial Killer

He pounced on me with a two handed overhead swing of his four-foot hoe-stick. It landed squarely on my forehead. There was no pain, just shock. He landed two more in quick succession and I fell on my back. He stood over me and continued bludgeoning me on the head. I couldn’t see his face but his dark silhouette was imposing against the moonless sky. I suddenly found my voice and could hear my guttural scream of impending death coming from somewhere deep in my throat (and heart). It dawned on me that this was the serial killer who had been terrorising the villages around my area for the last few months.

There was a blank darkness where his face should have been. He had not uttered a word and I couldn’t hear him breath. I have a strong sense of smell but I couldn’t pick any scent from him. No perfume or sweat. He could as well have been a ghost. I must have disappointed him because I didn’t pass out even as he increased his tempo. Instead, I matched his speed with the intensity of my screaming. I must also have been violently kicking out because I picked the smell of the bushes at the site whose branches I had slashed away. I still shudder when I smell that particular kind of bush.

As the killer continued raining blows on my head, hitting only my forehead, I was trying to shield my face with my hands. It was at this point that the stick landed on my open right hand and I clasped it. This was more of a reflex than a planned move but my tight grip made him lose his balance. He fell on my legs and I now grabbed the stick with both of my hands and disentangled it from him. He ran off immediately and left me on the ground still struggling to get up. By now I was really scared and when I got up, I scampered to the main road a few metres away to where I had alighted from a matatu a few minutes before.

By the grace of God, a friend was dropping one of my neighbours at the road so that he could also take the same path along which I had been attacked. They had actually heard my screams but had initially assumed it was a drunkard until I showed up. They rushed me to hospital where I was attended to. I got four stitches to close that gaping gash on my forehead. The physical injury is now healed save for the obvious long scar on my head. However, that killer took away my courage. I am now extremely afraid of the dark and have a problem falling asleep at night.

Lessons from the Ordeal

When I approached the crouching attacker, I had assumed it was a sweater thrown on the bushes. By the time I realised it was a person, I was too close to him and he didn’t waste time pouncing on me. I should have turned back without waiting to confirm if it was a person. Now I know.

Profile of a Serial Killer

Save for his face, I noticed a number of things about my attacker. He was dressed in a sweater with blue and white patterns. He had medium hair that appeared well combed. His lack of a smell described above could also point to the fact that he is a clean and well groomed person. In my mind, I see a person who probably has a family and a regular job. He had left his wife preparing supper at around seven in the evening as he went out to get his kick. He then went back to check his kid’s homework. The kid innocently asked him, “Daddy where have you been?” to which he coolly answered, “Just stretching my limbs a bit”.