Short horror Stories

possessive

"Control is a funny thing. Everybody thinks they have it, more than anything else in the world."

I'm talking to myself.

"Some more than others, obviously, but even the most pathetic welfare-loving slob believes he chooses to get up in the morning."

I can't stop.

"But it's all LIES! Look at my parents. Rich, powerful, well-connected: decision-makers! Ha. They were controlled by money, slaves to nothing more than an idea. They pursued it over each other and over me."

I pick up a knife, spin it through the air.

"I was controlled by nature. Psychopathy is nothing but an uncommon gene, you know. So is mind control."

I'm staring dead ahead now, straight out my window. At my neighbor's house.

"The man on the street, now, he's controlled by chance, by instinct, by the uncaring universe. But he thinks he makes his own fate. He really believes that , you see, with all his heart! The only way to get him to stop is to take that heart and stick a blade in it."

I shake my head, violently. I sit down.

"Oh, but I'm forgetting someone! You are controlled by me."

I take a step forward--and I stop, dropping the knife, breathing hard.

"I don't know who or what you are, but you can't make me a murderer. I'll tell them what happened! Or--I have friends! They know I wouldn't do this! There will be an investigation, or a hunt or... They'll figure you out eventually!"

I feel myself sigh.

"You're right, of course. More right than you know. I can't go around having people kill each other-people without control? That'd be news! I'd be caught! No, I have to fit the narrative for now. You're the only one who gets to see how false your control is."

I laugh.

"Everyone else will see nothing but too much control!"

Shaking violently, and laughing harder and harder, I reach towards the knife...

by:fromAFurture