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.

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.

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.