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Jesse’s Lost Journal — by Mark Patton

Entry 50, 1985

We are not going to see Paris today, treat perhaps never. I woke up to total chaos on the Air France flight. We were somewhere in space and there was a dead body two rows over from us in First Class. A young beautiful model with his throat neatly slit. We are heading back to New York.

The steward put a plastic sheet over him and I swear I saw him breathing, buy trying to speak… just like Tina. I have blood running down my rib and I have to figure out a way to get clean without any body noticing. Thank God I am dressed in Black and the blood (I hope) is my own.

The people on the plane are completely stunned and silent, they know one of us is a murderer and very sly. They are afraid of each other… this may help me. I tell the steward “I must use the toilet, I am going to be sick” which moves Colin into action… let’s see if I can be a method actor… as she is walking me down the isle, I just boldly stick my fingers down my throat and vomit all over my beautiful velvet sweater… for good measure I spray a couple of others passengers… who freak out and lucky me one woman starts the chain reaction. Vomit is going to save me!

They rush me to the bathroom and I wash my sweater as best I can. Fred left a little gash on my throat but that can be explained away by last night. Colin brought me a beautiful white shirt, I began to shake as if I had a chill and he wraps his scarf around me. I think I am cool. Until I see the two bloody hand prints on the window, I look at my nails… clean. Then I notice the prints are on the outside of the plane. Fred must have taken the boy out for a walk on the wing and killed him there.

The motherfucker is so sly, I took a sleeping pill. He just waited. Now he is chattering away and I feel as if I have a 103 fever. Colin is getting really concerned that I am going into shock… I try to let him know that I just do not respond to blood very well.

We are hours outside New York and the police will be waiting. Will my finger prints be on record, I have no idea… I have no clue about anything. I could be heading for jail right now… I cannot breathe. I hate him so much; I have to get rid of him. If that means I have to kill him… so be it. I know how. “Jesse, baby, do not run from me… we are in this together… it will all be fine, I left no trace of you… I have to leave you for a while… I have work to do in Springwood… that Bitch is waiting for me. Wack the Fucker my ass!”

The plane is landing and he is gone… here come the cops.

Jesse’s Lost Journals

~ Preface ~

Jesse's Lost Journals
© by Mark Patton. All Rights Reserved.

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