All this time

The small town of Stonebridge had always been cloaked in an almost oppressive quiet, where whispers carried farther than the wind. The death of Albert Crane, a well-loved figure in the community, had struck like a crack in a frozen lake—unexpected and shattering.

For Davis Crane, Albert’s passing left a void he hadn’t anticipated. The man was a cornerstone of Davis’s world, a guiding presence who had always seemed larger than life.

Davis had spoken to him just a week earlier at Shiny Minds Retirement Home, where Albert had spent the last two years of his life.

Now, Davis stood in the parlor of St. Catherine’s Church, clutching his grandfather’s eulogy in trembling hands. The paper was blank. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the words to capture the man Albert had been to him.

“Davis Crane?” A voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes.”
“We’re ready for you.”

Davis nodded, his throat tightening. As he stepped up to the podium, he glanced out at the modest crowd. His mother sat in the front pew, her tear-streaked face turned downward. His father, stoic as ever, kept a hand on her shoulder. He cleared his throat.

"Albert Crane," he began, his voice strained, "was a man who could light up a room with his smile. He had a way of making you feel like you mattered." His words faltered. “… I don’t even remember the last thing he said to me. But I remember his laugh, how he whistled to old-school tunes. I believe he was truly the best person in the world and I will surely miss him very much.”

The eulogy was short, and the funeral procession ended quickly. As mourners murmured condolences and exchanged small talk, Davis felt detached, adrift in the sea of their words. He slipped away to his car and drove home.

Back at home, Davis found himself alone with a box of keepsakes from Albert’s room at the retirement home. The items were simple: a pair of glasses, a pipe, and old letters. One of the letters entailed a journal.

Curiosity tugged at him. Albert had never mentioned keeping a journal. He searched for the journal but it was not there. He proceeded to read the other letters until he found one that caught his eye.

The handwriting was neat, deliberate, and unmistakably Albert’s.

“Days like this I like to remember my youth when I can. Hard to believe it’s been so long since…
I remember my Ruth, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever met. To this day the only one that ever came close was my lovely wife, Indra. In those days getting a good woman was priceless. Indeed, God must have been looking after me because I found two special ones. My home life was normal enough, good parents, and I got good grades but fees were too much of a burden. I would later in life work with my father in the coal mines until his death when life steered me towards another path.”

After reading that letter, he was convinced more than ever that the journal was real—that Albert had left him a puzzle to solve. He remembered his grandfather loved telling stories, sometimes they were happy sometimes they were gruesome. He felt this was a gift his grandfather had left specifically for him.

Finally, while rummaging through his mother’s hidden storage, he found the rest of the diary tucked beneath old family photographs. Its leather cover was scuffed and worn as if it had been opened and closed a thousand times. Davis hesitated, a sense of unease gnawing at him before he opened the book and began to read.

The Journal of Albert

March 19, 1975
“Today, I attended my father’s funeral. A somber day, but one bright spot—Ruth. Seeing her after all these years was like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. She hasn’t changed. Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen."

The next entry was just as intriguing.

March 26, 1975
"We walked by the river today. Ruth laughed at the chill in the air and said it made her feel alive. She wants to write romance novels. She’s passionate, determined... enchanting."

Over the following days, Davis became obsessed with the diary. He read every entry, trying to piece together the fragments of his grandfather’s life. The journal shifted from heartfelt musings to darker reflections.

November 27, 1975
“The wedding was beautiful. We danced the entire day, said our Dos, and promised to love each other until death did us part.

November 27, 1976:
"The first anniversary. The hardest day. I went back to the river alone. Tried a new path today. It was nice, therapeutic.”

March 19, 1977
“I saw Ruth again today. She looked like an angel, floating there seamlessly in her wedding gown. A beautiful dream.”

The entries became less frequent, but every few pages, Davis found notes scratched off almost like he started writing and stopped. From this point, some pages appeared torn off, some incomplete.
Davis became engrossed, spending late nights piecing together Albert’s cryptic entries. The tone of the diary grew more obsessive, tinged with paranoia. There were mentions of murders in Stonebridge, cryptic notes about patterns, and references to a “Wedding Killer.”

March 19, 1980
“There have been reports of women disappearing as of late. Rumors of a serial killer in the air.”

November 27, 1980
“First crime scene of the wedding killer. What is he after?”

November 27, 1983
“A case opens up against the infamous wedding killer. He becomes a world sensation.”

June 1, 1985:
"The pieces fit too neatly. The dates, the victims. Ruth’s death was no accident—it was his beginning. Indra thinks I’m losing my mind. Maybe I am."

January 2, 1986
“Indra and I get married. We met three years ago. I think she might be the one who could fill this hole inside me. I want to make her happy.”

March 19, 1986
"Another one. A woman in a wedding dress left near the old church. It’s him. I know it is. But why does he haunt me?"

The journal’s narrative became increasingly unreliable. Entries were scratched out or faded, with entire pages missing. Yet some dates—always tied to the 19th of March or the 27th of November—stood out. They marked significant events, both in Albert’s life and in the murders.

September 3, 1986
“Indra is expectant. I take a leave of absence from work to take care of her.”

July 4, 1987
“We welcomed my beautiful girl. She is perfect and innocent.”

February 5, 1997
“The wedding killer case declared cold. Got a new job today. Life is good.”

May 6, 2000
“A victim of the wedding killer was rescued. The pattern doesn’t fit”

March 15, 2001
“The wedding killer was supposedly captured. I think he is still out there lurking, biding his time. Waiting for something.”

Davis investigated online and discovered newspaper clippings in libraries. They described the crimes of the "Wedding Killer," a serial murderer who left his victims dressed in wedding gowns. The killer’s pattern was unknown. The wedding killer was considered the most dangerous serial killer to date. He was never caught and little is known about his motives.

April 6, 2003
“My daughter celebrates her sweet sixteen. Indra cuts cake with her, they share hard truths. She is growing up so fast.”

August 7, 2005
“My daughter graduated high school. The two of us celebrated with her first drink.”

December 8, 2005
“A new detective reopens the wedding killer case.”

March 19, 2006
“A new gruesome body appears. A lady in her forties was found in a wedding dress, hanged from the feet upside down.”

November 27, 2006
“Detective Brooks finds the body of the next victim. A chase scene with the wedding killer. I have hoped he would catch the wedding killer and avenge my Ruth.”

November 27, 2009
“A public declaration of war from the detective after another victim is found. The detective still can’t see the pattern.”

March 19, 2010
“Another murder occurs at 2 AM today.”

October 20, 2012
“Today marks the 8-years since Indra succumbed to cancer. My daughter and I shared a drink and memories.”

March 19, 2013
“ The detective is found dead along a woman’s corpse. A struggle is evident, he got a good look at the killer but died before he could tell anybody.”

November 27, 2013
“With no one to challenge him, the killer has lost all hope. Four women are found in bloody dresses.”

December 9, 2014
“My daughter gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. I held him in my arm, and heard his first laugh.”

Davis became overwhelmed with emotions as he was reading. Growing up he remembered his grandfather as a caring man. Reading about his relationship with his grandfather through his eyes made him happy.

April 10, 2018
“My grandson and I took a trip to the zoo. How he loves the animals, he is a joy to watch. Suddenly the case I have been pursuing for half my life seems less important.”

May 11, 2018
“My grandson had a little accident with a matchstick. He is afraid of fires now.”

From here onwards, Davis noticed that most of the entries were left to explore his childhood and his adventures with his grandfather. After gathering all the research and publications he could find, the wedding killer's final victims were the four women in 2013. He was believed to have died and forgotten.

September 10, 2031
“My grandson left for college yesterday. It is lonely, I miss his laughter and listening to old songs together.”

March 19, 2032

November 27, 2032
“A woman in a black dress was found murdered. Same M.O. as the killer. The news said he was dead. After today he will be.”

January 11, 2033

June 12, 2033
“I lie awake most nights”

August 13, 2033
“My grandson went with me to Shiny Minds Retirement Home today. He looks at me with the most admiration. I can’t help but feel awful. He is a good soul just like her mother and grandmother before him.”

March 1976-2032 48

This was the last entry before his grandfather sadly passed away. Now at 21 years old, Davis had thoughts running through his brain. Questions that can never be answered. He felt bad that his grandfather went through such a horrific life. Even though there were happy times, there were also bad parts that he never knew about. As he opened the last page, a note fell from the back of the lining of the journal’s case. It read:

The Man of Yesterday was sure,
A loving heart, intentions pure.
But love, so fleeting, broke his core,
And left him lost on a darkened shore.

The Man of grief he could not contain,
The sorrow is deep, endless pain.
Her face, her laugh, a haunting guide,
Became the fire where demons hide.

The Man of vengeance, fueled by loss,
Took up the path, no matter the cost.
The acts he wrought, no words can mend,
A trail of lives, a tragic end

The Man of regret now takes the stand,
A pen of guilt held in his hand.
I sought revenge, but lost my way,
And darkness claimed me, day by day.

The Man of the Present sees the cost,
Of fleeting vengeance, what he lost.
To you, my family, my light, my grace,
Know my love was real in every space.

The Man I was, the man I’ve been,
Is bound by shadows, scarred by sin.
But in these words, I leave my plea,
Let love and light guide destiny.

The Man of the Future dreams of peace,
A final breath, my sins released.
Forgive me, though my soul feels torn,
For all my crimes, for hearts forlorn.

The Man of the Future deeply prays,
My truth won’t leave you in pain.
As memory runs out of me,
A gruesome end to this dynasty.

THE END.....