It was after dark. I was walking to my hotel in a big intimidating city, Chicago. Then I turned a corner and I saw them. I was so horrified I almost retched. I kept my composure, though, and called the police.
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While I waited, I forced myself to glance again. All of those poor people had been decapitated. Rigor mortis had set in, keeping them in their lifelike positions. Their skin was blanched. But as I stood there, trembling, several young adults strolled by and they didn’t even look concerned. In fact, they were laughing . . . partying! Joking! Such a grotesque insensitivity to the plight of others! Such an unseemly juxtaposition! But what was that over to the right? I spun around and I saw even more victims.
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I shook as I took these photos, constantly looking over my shoulder in case the fiends who committed all of these murders might return to decapitate me.
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