-July 18, 2010
Red.
That's all I can see.
The walls are covered all over with it.
My mind is hazy. The fog has lifted.
What's going on?
The air reeks of a coppery scent. I realize its blood.
A thick, gooey liquid.
Dropping to the floor. Sliding down the walls.
Im covered in it.
I lick my lips to find traces of it there.
I like the taste.
I look down at my hands. Their covered in it.
I lick my hands. Hungry. Thirsty.
I take a look at my surrounding.
And I see it.
A lump of mass too mutilated to be considered a body.
Pieces of its head only confirms my suspicions.
I move closer. And I remember.
His screams echo in my head.
I remember the feeling of cutting him up.
Of tearing his heart out.
Watching the blood pour.
Soaking me. Dripping to the floor.
I see the blade that I used on the floor.
I pick it up.
I still has pieces of his body on it.
I lick the jagged edges.
Yum.
I must do this again.
I stare at the piece of flesh slowly rotting.
I smile. I enjoyed hearing him scream for mercy right before I slit his throat.
He pissed me off. And I hated him.
I wanted him to die.
Slowly.
Painfully.
With me smiling all the while.
I just didn't count on enjoying it too much.
The adrenaline rushes thru me as I think of the prospect of doing it again.
I clean up myself.
I stare at the leftover pieces.
I feel no remorse. No guilt.
Only the excitement for my next kill.
Whistling, I drop a kiss-marked napkin on the lump of flesh.
I say goodbye.
And walk out the door.
YOU ARE READING
Short stories
Short StoryI'm going to leave all my one shot stories here. Most of them weren't planned.
