Deadtime Stories

I Paint Houses With Human Blood

I'd like to start off by saying, I am not a maniac. I am just a normal human being with a normal hobby. I enjoy painting houses. Unfortunately for some, I prefer to paint said houses with a unique mixture of my own creation; one that contains human blood. My methods may be unusual, but I find them to be necessary. I take pride in my work and as such, I do whatever it takes to make the houses that I paint look fantastic. Whatever it takes.

It all started two years ago when I dropped out of college. I couldn't seem to focus on my classes and didn't have a clear career path in mind, so I lacked the motivation or grades to continue on. Instead, I rented a small apartment back in my hometown and picked up a part-time job at a hardware store. The money I made there wasn't enough to cover the cost of living, so I needed to find a way to supplement my income. Many people that came into my store were constantly asking for good painters in the area, to paint their homes. My town is very small, so there isn't much to choose from in the way of these kinds of services. This sparked the idea of starting my own painting business. And that is exactly what I did.

I painted my first house in a small neighborhood near my apartment complex. I think my client's name was Linda. She was a seventy-four year old woman that wanted her house touched up as it was beginning to show its age. She had lived there her whole life, it seemed. I painted the entire house within a couple of days and she was happy. I, however, was not. To me, the color didn't look quite right. It needed something more.

I decided that I would experiment with some different paints to create a more illustrious hue. I used the wooded area behind the apartment complex so as not to get paint all over the place. I must have brought fifteen paint cans out there, all with different colors of paint in them. I even bought a few nice, metal buckets from my store to use for mixing. I also bought a decent amount of plywood and a couple of sawhor sawhorses. I had spent a good chunk of money on this stuff, even with my employee discount, but I felt that I needed to do a good job with my side business. I didn't want a simple 'thank you' and a check. I wanted them to stand in awe of the work I'd done. These purchases would be worth it.

I began mixing different colors right away and testing these mixtures on the plywood. I stayed out there until it began getting dark, trying almost every combination of paints that I could come up with. With every failure, I'd toss the piece of plywood, and place a new one atop the two sawhorses. This continued for hours, until I'd used up every piece of plywood I had - both sides. Not a single color sat well with me. Not one. I was just about to get ready to go home, when I noticed something. I had cut my hand. It must of happened while lifting the plywood. The wound was small, but it was dripping blood. It dripped onto one of the sawhorses and caused me to do a double-take. This was the first color that I liked. I quickly dabbed a bit of paint on the sawhorse and allowed my hand to drip over it. I then mixed it together with my brush, and what do you know - the color was breathtaking!

Soon after my discovery, I packed up and headed home. It may sound bizarre, but I started cutting myself and bottling up my own blood. I would cut myself where no one would be able to see it, and I would drip just enough blood before becoming dizzy. It was a long process that took roughly a week, but I eventually had enough blood for a house, I thought.

My next client was a man by the name of Harold. He was in his mid-40s and looked after your typical family - a wife, two sons, a daughter, and a pet dog. He had just relocated for his work and wanted to paint his new home to surprise his wife. He was a stern man, and I could tell it would take a lot to impress him. It was a good thing I had that blood.

I took the color he wanted and mixed in some of my blood in each can. His house was of a decent size in area, but was low to the ground, so I took the color he wanted and mixed in some of my blood in each can. His house was of a decent size in area, but was low to the ground, so the job didn't take too long. It also helped that I was motivated to see my new paint at work. In record time, I had the job done. Just in time for Harold to take a look before his wife came home from work.

"My god, it's beautiful!"

Harold exclaimed his approval quickly after seeing my work. He couldn't believe how good of a job I'd done. I couldn't either. The color came out better than expected. It seemed that I could mix blood with any color to give it that extra bit of luster that it needed. It made the paint dark, but strikingly bold in a way that has to be seen rather than described in order to be fully understood. Harold was happy, and so was I.

After a couple of more jobs, I began running out of places to cut myself. That, and it was taking a lot out of me. On the bright side, everyone loved my work. With the aid of word-of-mouth, I was becoming a small town success - and after only a just a few jobs. I couldn't stop there - not with the praise I was receiving. I had to keep going.

As successful as I was becoming, I knew I couldn't keep cutting myself. It wasn't healthy, and I didn't enjoy it. One time, I nearly passed out. I had to hatch a plan in order to continue my valued work. I thought of robbing a blood bank, but quickly discarded the idea. There were none nearby, and I lacked the proper stealth and know-how to pull of such an operation. I thought of killing animals to fuel my passion, but I discarded that idea as well. Animal blood was different from human blood. It just wouldn't be the same. While privately contemplating new ideas, I heard a knock at my door. It was an electrician, hired by the landlord.

"Hi. I'm here for a routine check-up on your thermostat and electrical box."

I let the man in and went back to my failed planning. I watched the man as he checked me thermostat. It was then that a dark thought crossed my mind. I brushed it off at firs but it was like an itch that wouldn't go away. I eventually gave in to it. Without hesitation, I grabbed a large knife from kitchen drawer and walked over to the man. His back was towards me, making my job easier. I plunged the knife into the back of his neck, severing his brain stem and killing him instantly. He fell to the floor with a thud. I instinctively dragged the body into the next room to hide him, allowing myself no time to react to my own crime - one that I had never before committed. Looking back, I know that it was a plethora f emotions that overcame me, with the most prevalent one being excitement. Not over the kill itself, that was unpleasant, but over what it meant in the long run. I could finally continue my work.

It took a lot of rope and a lot of patience, but I managed to tie the man up in my closet, hanging him upside-down. I grabbed one of my metal buckets and placed it underneath his lifeless head. I sliced open his neck and let the blood slowly drain from his body. It was disgusting, but necessary. There was no turning back at this point anyways.

After draining him completely, I disposed of the man's body in the wooded area behind my apartment complex, where I first started experimenting with new colors. I buried him beneath a large tree. I figured that he would decay and provide the tree with some fertilizer. The circle of life, and what not. It may not seem smart to dump the body so close to where I live, but it really isn't. This town is off in the middle of nowhere, and my apartment complex is even further out. The woods behind it are never traversed by anyone other than myself. I can almost guarantee that he won't ever be found.

I used a small portion of the man's blood to experiment some more. As good as my previous mixtures were, I had a feeling I could make an even better one. As it turns out, I was correct. After a couple of days of trial and error, I found that warming the blood up in the microwave before mixing it with the paint created a much better consistency. You just h just have to be careful not to heat it up for too long, otherwise it will congeal. Implementing this method, I used the man's blood for a client the following week. The client was so impressed that they offered me a hefty tip on top of my earnings. That, to me, justified my crime.

I've since done many jobs and racked up quite the clientele in the process. I've quit my job at the hardware store and now paint houses full time. With each new house there is another body or two that I have to dispose of. One guy kept having a change of heart and wanted a different color each time I finished painting his house. That took at least five bodies worth of blood if I remember correctly. Oh well. I can't risk disappointing a client. Their satisfaction is worth a lot, after all; widening my customer base with each good review that they give. I may even start venturing out to other towns, pretty soon. Who knows - maybe your town will be the next one on my list. If so, then I look forward to doing business with you.