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Dear Diary,

Today's the day. I've done everything, and after so many fails, I finally got the results I wanted. The ice cream's ready, and it's an ice cream to die for – literally. I spent hours crafting it, mixing the perfect blend of creamy goodness and deadly poison. I started with a can of sweet condensed milk, the kind Stuart loves, and added a swirl of chocolate. Then... the magic happened. I infused it with oleander oil, carefully extracted from the plant's toxic leaves. A dash of cinnabar powder, a pinch of roofies, and it was done. The sweet condensed milk did the trick, masking the bitter taste of the poison perfectly.

Stuart McFadden's gone, met his demise last night after finishing work, showering, and indulging in his usual two cans of beer and a bucket of homemade ice cream. He didn't see it coming, didn't stand a chance. The oleander, cinnabar, and roofies did their job, and he fell asleep on the sofa, never to wake up. Cardiac arrest while sleeping? Yeah, that's gonna be the story.

I switched his meds with placebos, just to make sure. His death was silent, peaceful even. Mine's gonna be the same, soon enough. This aneurysm's a wildcard, could go any time. That's why I chose this way to take him down – safest route, no risks. I wanted to make a statement, cut his head off and hold it on a pole, but... no way. His build's too big, mine's too small. This way was better.

But here's the best part – his cheating wife's taking the fall for it. She was sleeping with some rich tycoon, wanted to leave Stuart, but he was gonna divorce her and leave her with nothing. Not even her own clothes. Guy was abusive, too. She had motive, and now everyone's gonna think she did it. Perfect cover. I left evidence, sent it to journalists all over, exposing what he did. He's gone, and his reputation's gone with him.

Now, it's time to focus on me. This aneurysm's a mystery, could be terminal, could be nothing. Nobody knows. Guess it's time to find out. For now, this is my last kill. Time to face whatever's coming.

Guess that's it, then. The end of the road. But at least I took him down with me.

COMMENTS

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Cadrewolf2
03:58 Feb 19 2026

Wow

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undyingscholar
18:52 Feb 19 2026

Great read, truly

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Dear diary,

Stuart is a formidable adversary. He stands tall at 1.92m, weighs around 87kg, and is agile on his feet. However, his Achilles' heel is his precarious heart condition, likely exacerbated by a lifetime of devouring fast food and donuts. I must devise a strategy to neutralize him without resorting to physical confrontation, lest I suffer the consequences.

He brutally killed five witnesses, including our elderly neighbour Delilah, a kind soul with a penchant for humour. Her skull was cracked open by a junkie looking for a score, or so it seemed. But everyone in our neighbourhood knew she was struggling financially, having sold her valuables to survive on meagre government assistance. Stuart, a high-ranking commander with the police force, also kidnapped a six-year-old boy, who was later found drowned in Toha lake, his tiny body ravaged by the waters. This corrupt officer is a monster, deriving sadistic pleasure from orchestrating heinous crimes, and flaunts his badge with an air of invincibility.

I have acquired belladonna, foxglove, oleander, and white sage for experimentation. Each substance has its unique properties and drawbacks, but oleander appears to be the most promising. I will extract its oil and milk, and combine it with a sedative to create a lethal cocktail. Further experimentation is required to refine the concoction

L

Chapter 13: who is preying who?

Dear diary

It's 2.49 am.


I am digging up on Stuart McFadden. A cop. He is a dirty cop. Did all sordid things behind the towns back and everyone thinks he is a hero. But the more the glamour the darker is the other side of the mirror. Or the right word is murky.

I had been digging for months now and all the stuff he hid, murder, rapes, trafficking of children and babies murdered if they weren't sold.

Animals butchered for trophies.
Racketeering, blackmail and more.

It's been going non stop and I am afraid I don't have much time. Lately I found out I got aneurysm on the frontal lobe and it won't take much to rupture and kills me. Even if I have to get to die I want my last kill , be it thrilling or not. I want this done.

The question is how long do I get to live to make it happen? He isn't just a cop. He is the commander of the force. God knows how many are in his pockets when it comes to owing the favour back or blackmail.

L

COMMENTS

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Cadrewolf2
19:15 Feb 18 2026

Excellent as always

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Chapter 12

Dear Diary,

It's been a while since I last wrote. I've been busy with graduation, a girlfriend, and work. Lately, I visited a friend in prison who's been accused of statutory rape, and I believe he's innocent. He's been charged with having an affair with a 14-year-old white girl, Teresa, just because he's black and she's white. It's a classic case of deflection with accusations of racism, but the cops aren't looking beyond the surface. The thing is, he's got an alibi, and I know he's not the type.

His cellmate's a con artist, and I wasn't exactly eager to get involved. But he's a means to an end. A tool to scratch an itch. I owe him nothing, but he's a useful pawn in my game.

After that, I chauffeured Mother to church and, let's just say, the priest didn't quite pass my vibe check. Something about him asking for cash didn't sit right. I overheard a suspicious conversation he was having on the phone about money meant for the congregation. I played it cool, but I was taking mental notes. He's a predator, just like the rest. And predators need to be taken down.

Turns out, he used to be a con artist before becoming a priest. I'm not surprised. He's got that slimy charm, but it doesn't quite cover up the stench of desperation. And now, some girls from his congregation have gone missing. They're all around 15-16, diverse backgrounds, but they all attended that church. I spoke to Samantha, who's worried sick about her missing girlfriend. The kicker? Her last stop before vanishing was the church - she'd gone back for a wallet she'd left behind during choir.

I've been digging, and what I found is...intoxicating. The priest's been using the girls as organ mules, harvesting their organs for profit. I knew organ trafficking was real, but I didn't think it was happening here. Thirty girls have gone missing, and I'm willing to bet it's not a coincidence. My hunger is growing, and he's the perfect meal.

I took matters into my own hands. I waited for him, watched him, learned his routine. And when the time was right, I struck. I spiked his wine, took him to the garage, and...well, let's just say he won't be hurting anyone again. The sound of his screams, the smell of his fear...it's all just fuel for the fire. I removed every usable organ, sent them to a restaurant that'll serve them up as delicacies. Poetic revenge, if you ask me.

I'm not gonna lie, it was a rush. Seeing him suffer, knowing I was the one causing it...it's a high I'll never get tired of. He's just a bug, a insignificant insect crushed beneath my heel. And if you're reading this, wondering what happened to the priest...well, let's just say he's just another meal.


L

Chapter 11


Dear Diary

"I've been keeping an eye on Emmy Elvaro, and let me tell you, he's a real piece of work. Comes from a family of big shots - politicians, scholars, the works - but he's a total disappointment. He was a bully in school, always picking on people weaker than him, and it sounds like he's still at it.

There's this one girl, a top student, wanted to be a teacher... he went after her big time. She rejected him, and...well, let's just say she ended up dead in an abandoned warehouse, her body dumped like trash. The police identified her through her hip bone replacement, but that didn't bring her back. The autopsy said she was r***d, beaten, and strangled. Her face was unrecognizable, her body bruised and battered.

Then there was Marcus, he was targeted by Emmy and his crew. Marcus transferred schools, left the country, ended up in England... basically ran away from Emmy's bullshit. Even Emmy's parents couldn't control him, so they shipped him off to the States to live with his uncle, a marine. Supposedly, that was gonna straighten him out.

Fast forward, I see him back in town, still acting like a reckless idiot. Jaywalking, road rage... the works. I was thinking of taking care of him myself, but someone beat me to it. I followed him one night, and some figure in the shadows took him down with a brick to the head. The sound of his skull cracking was music to my ears. I didn't stick around to check if he was okay - didn't want to get caught up in any evidence.

But here's the crazy part: Emmy's still walking around, bleeding but alive, like nothing's gonna stop him. So I take matters into my own hands. I follow him to this dark, isolated spot... and, well, let's just say he won't be bothering anyone again. I pushed him off a cliff, and he plummeted to his death, his body breaking on the rocks below. The screams...oh, the screams were music to my ears.

I'm still fuming that someone took my fun away, but I guess it's poetic justice that I got to finish the job. Either way, he's gone, and I won't lose any sleep over it. Maybe now the town can breathe a sigh of relief.

As I'm writing this, I'm still trying to process how it all went down. Did I actually kill him, or was it the person who hit him with the brick? Does it even matter? He's gone, and that's all that counts. I just hope it serves as a warning to anyone else thinking of following in his footsteps. You'll be next.

The thing is, I don't feel guilty about it. I feel...relief, maybe? Like I've taken care of a problem that needed solving. And if anyone ever finds out, well...I'll just say I had nothing to do with it. After all, I'm just a bystander, watching the world go by. Or, at least, that's what I'll do.

L