Oh the thick trickle of crimson blood which stains my now satin ax, a personal touch I might add. The paradisaical feel the liquid gave me made me feel contented; not the slightly deranged young lady who resides in the house along the street. Not a killer, just deranged. Until now my conscience was clean, until now I had never felt the dark red fluid which used to flow through the corpse's vital organs, supplying them with the vital oxygen on which they so dearly need. In fact: everything up until now feels like a dream. A fictitious existence which I now feel detached from. If truth be told- which It shall- I now feel as if I have been reborn. I am no longer associated with the person I once was, no more will I be seen as mundane. The blood which flows through me is no longer scarlet. It is now ichor- the fluid which flows through gods (like myself).
So here I stand. Underneath the firmament-placid-tranquil-reborn. I hold my ax high, I swing it low. Pop pop pop. Squelch squelch squelch. Red red red. Decapitations can prove rather messy, but of course, immortals like me like it that way don't they? Perhaps if I were to decapitate myself then maybe my headless body will pick up my skull and place it back on my shoulders. That would be funny wouldn't it? Would it not be positively hilarious if I were to simply bring the blade down onto my neck? Perhaps I should film it for the internet to see, it would go viral. So many people would chuckle.
I set my stained recorder on the dead man's head. He can film it. I lay my head on the body, comfy I must say. I bring the blade down on neck, brushing the necklace I so dearly love. A giggle escapes my lips. "hahaha-.....".
