This is part of the #MAYnia challenge run by the Hive account@freewritehouse. Today I have written 1671 words. 200, or so, words were written using the following prompts
Today's Maynia prompt: squealing chicken
@freewritehouse/maynia-day-seven
The Daily Freewrite prompt: two varieties
@mariannewest/day-928-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-two-varieties

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_{_{If you have nothing better to do you can read my previous “chapters”: _{One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six}}}
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Extract from A Bloody End: The True Story Behind The Humpbuckle-on-Sea Murders by Jack Painter

It seemed like an open and shut case. And perhaps it was. But something bothered me about it. There were five women murdered that night and then the suicide of the perpetrator.

But also, on the same night, there was a woman who claimed to be attacked at the same time. She survived. She was even able to give a description and the name of the person who attacked her - she said he told her his name before he came at her with the knife.

And it wasn't Arthur Krip, the landlord of the Bobbing Buoy public house.

Now, in another part of this green and pleasant land, another city, even another town, perhaps there might be two random attacks with similar MO's carried out by two different and unrelated perpetrators. But in Humpbuckle-on-Sea? People didn't get attacked in Humpbuckle-on-Sea. The last murder had been twenty years before. A family dispute.

Things like this just didn’t happen in our small town.

Penny Draper was eating alone that night. She said she had prepared a dish her mother used to make for her when she was a child.

"Squealing Chicken," she said it was called. "I think it was something I used to call it," she told me. "You know as a kid. It probably had a different name, but I mispronounced it and the name stuck. I don’t even know what its real name is. It's spicy. I'll give you the recipe."

But, that night, there something was wrong with the dish.

"There are two varieties of chilli peppers used in Squealing Chicken," Penny said. "Two. And I realised - to my horror - that I had only used one. Well, that wouldn't do! It changed the flavour of the whole dish! So, I put my fork down, picked up my purse, grabbed my coat. I hadn’t seen the weather forecast. Perhaps the only person in Humpuckle-on-Sea who didn’t know about it. But it was May and I knew that here in Humpbuckle-on-Sea the wind can really whip in from the sea of an evening - and headed out the door. There is a corner shop about a fifteen-minute walk from my house. I don't know why I call it a corner shop, it isn't on a corner. It’s on a parade of shops, sandwiched between Fishy Business - the chip shop - and Carters - the bakers. You must know it! It sells all sorts of stuff. And it stocks a great selection of vegetables and fruit from around the world. Not cheap. Not like the big supermarket out of town. But fresh. And the owner is nice. Friendly, you know."

Penny Draper smiled, for a moment forgetting she was in a police interview room, and why.

“I like to support local businesses. Anyway, I step out the door and realise it is a bit more windy than usual. The rain hadn’t reallys started at that point, and there was no thunder. But I could see that it would probably get worse before it got better. Now, there are a couple of ways to get to the corner shop. One - walking along the road - is slower than the other walking through the park. Now, the park is supposed to be locked at nightfall. But I happen to know that they often don’t bother locking it. The kids tend to hang around the beach, there’s never any trouble in that park.” Penny’s smile faltered. “Well, not usually. That’s what I thought, at least.

“Anyway, as it was clear the storm was brewing I thought it best to take the shortcut. I know, the sensible person would of headed back inside. Back to the dry, warm room and the perfectly edible - if not perfect - Squealing Chicken. But I decided to risk it. I wish I hadn’t, but I did.

“The gate was unlocked when I got there - a little after eight thirty. Yes, I’m sure of the time. Normally the gate would be locked at that time in May - sunset. Of course, it was already dark because of the storm. But I remember checking my watch. It was just after eight thirty. The rain began to fall. Great big fat droplets to begin with and then if began to fall in sheets. I ran, following the path through the park.

“The storm stole most of the light, but there are small lights that run along the edge of the path. They don’t give out much light, but enough for you to keep to the path. I don’t know why they light the path when people aren’t supposed to be in there, but that’s the council for you - always wasting money. As I got into the centre of the park, close to the children’s playground, the lights flickered and there was a crack of thunder that made me jump. I remember thinking to myself I should turn around and run back home. But I was already wet and I was halfway there. So I kept going. That was when I first saw him. The man that attacked me.

“There was a flash of lightning and I thought I saw someone on the path ahead of me. I couldn’t see much. Just an outline. He looked like a silhouette against the flash of the lightning. He almost seemed to be made of shadows.

“He was just standing there in the middle of the path and seemed to be carrying something in his hand. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the knife he used to do this.” Penny pointed to the long scar that ran down her face. She pointed to her stomach, were I knew she had received three stab wounds. “And that.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t feel threatened. Not at first. It isn’t uncommon to meet people on that path, even after dark. Runners, dog walkers. Or people like me, just using it as a short cut to nip to the shops.

“And then he was gone. For a moment, I thought perhaps it was my mind playing tricks on me. A trick of the light. As I passed the spot where I thought I’d seen him I stumbled. Fell to the ground.” Penny subconciously rubbed her knee. “I sustained a bruise and a graze. If only that was all.” She laughed. “I wouldn’t be sat here now, talking to you.” She took a sip of water and sat back. I let the silence bloom in the room, giving her some space to think and arrange her thoughts.

“And then suddenly he was there. He stood over me. He was all shadows, shifting and shimmering. I know what you’re thinking.” Penny stared at me, daring me to speak the words. “You think I hit my head. I had concussion or something.” I shook my head, although it had crossed my mind. “I didn’t. I landed on my knees. Bruised and grazed.” She took a deep breath and I waited.

“And then I saw he had a knife,” Penny’s voice had changed. It was shaking, not with anger or aggression but with fear. I could see the way her eyes moved she was accessing memories of that night. Reliving them.

“He leaned in towards me. There was a coldness around him. I suddenly noticed that the rain appeared to have stopped. I was no longer getting wet. It was still raining around us, but not on us. As though we were in a bubble.” Her eyes were on me again. Daring me to laugh, daring me to deny it.

“I go by the name of Poppery,” he said. And his voice was like the darkness. “And I am going to kill you.”

At this point Penny broke down and after a few minutes we agreed to call it a day and finish the interview the following day.

That was a mistake.

Penny Draper never came back for that interview.

The coroner’s Inquest found that after leaving the police station Penny went home via the corner shop she had told me about. She bought a litre bottle of vodka and a kitchen knife. Mr Opel - the owner of the store - told the coroner that she had seemed to be in high spirits, even joked with him. Something about the weather, Mr Opel said. He couldn’t recall precisely what was said.

Penny Draper went home and ran a bath. She then sat in the bath, fully clothed, and drank half of the bottle of vodka before slicing her arms open.

She was found the following day by her friend, Amanda, who had come to pick her up to bring her to the station for our interview.

There was no note.

Many things bother me about the attack on Penny Draper. It took place on the same night as five other murders. It seemed to be a similar MO - stab wounds using a kitchen knife to the stomach and a slash across the face. It would be perfectly reasonable to conclude that the attack on Penny Draper and the five other murders were done by the same man.

Only at eight thirty I knew Arthur Krip, the man who murdered five other women including barmaid at the Bobbing Buoy Public House, was behind the bar at the pub. I knew this because I had the CCTV footage. We had footage of him coming in from the rain at eight twenty five. Shortly after that there was the first lightning strike and the powercut stopped the CCTV from recording any more. Even if he had left after then it would have been impossible for him to reach the scene of the attack on Penny Draper.

So who attacked Penny Draper? How did she survive when the other women did not?

Who was this “Poppery”? Were all the other murders done by Arthur Krip alone? Or did Krip have an accomplice?

Or was it just a coincidence?

The case was never officially closed.