He sat waiting, watching the altar at the cathedral. He knew the madman was coming soon, even if the police didn’t believe him.
“The madman is coming! The madman is coming!” He almost laughed as the refrain began going through his head. He had imagined being Paul Revere when he was a little boy, and he had loved the thought of warning everyone that the bad guys were coming. This time, he’d tried to warn everyone, but no one listened. He was alone, watching for the man who had killed at least eight people.
There was movement in the narthex, a shadow moving, becoming a tall man in dark clothes. He was carrying a cloth bag that the watcher knew held the spoils of his gruesome hobby. The watcher texted to his friend. “He’s here! Get the cops. Please.” The watcher was careful to not let the light from his phone show anywhere the murderer might be able to see. He tucked the phone away and continued his vigil.
When the murderer made it to the altar and began setting up his presentation, the watcher decided he had to act. He picked up the heavy flashlight, crept up behind the murderer, and hit him over the head. The murderer collapsed, and the work of months was finally over.
When the murderer was being taken away to the ambulance, he looked at the man who had captured him and said, “I guess I should have come earlier. You knew I always did this late at night. I should have come just as they closed. Nothing good happens after midnight.”
The watcher smiled a little. “I guess that just depends on which side you’re on. Today, something good happened after midnight.”
I gave Eric Storch this prompt: The first rainfall after weeks of heat