Some Things Never Change: A Book Dedicated to Absolutely Nothing At All

Say My Name: A Jeff The Killer Short Story

Night.....probably Friday, judging by the homes he passed while he walked the sidewalks, peeping into homes, trying to find the right one. It was Friday. June 17th, to be exact. A glance at his wristwatch would tell him that it was around 8:30. It was a nice night: warm, mellow breeze, full moon, Jeff's ideal summer night. It's a shame, he thought, that I can't enjoy the weather under better circumstances. He had a white tank top on this night, a departure from his stuffy white sweat shirt, and he had shortened black pants that reached no lower than halfway down his shins. He made them himself, all the hemming and trimming done in his new den. He of course had to make sure it was safe to use the sewing machine, but he figured it was okay. Knife stuck into his belt, he peered into a window, admiring the lovely tan people inside, and upon further inspection, he found that there was someone inside. It was and ugly scarred thing, an abhorrent creature rather than a man, and watching its movements, it became increasingly clear that it is wasn't human. It stuck to the dark corners and blind spots of the hallway outside of the dining area, when it sniffed the air, and dove through an opened window. Jeff sat, crouched low under the windowsill and listened to the sounds of people partying, dogs barking, and numerous barbecue dinners happening in a backyards, with only tiki torches lighting the patios and back lawns. As Jeff stood and walked, he came to a familiar place. It was his old neighborhood. He walked down the shambled sidewalk, saddened at how little his neighborhood thrived, and was sad that it didn't look how good it used to. There was blood on this street, from the fight, from  the fight at the party, and finally, from the night Jeff returned home from the hospital. There were very few people on this street besides Jeff, all of these people of course were drug dealers and criminals, attracted to the inconspicuous location that they could peddle their poisons, and not have so much heat. Jeff stopped,in front of one house in particular, and all the old feelings came back: The morning bus trip to school, going disastrously because of Keith and his boys. The school day going by slow, ending in Liu going to juvenile detention. The party, ending in pain and death. And the return home, ending in the death of Jeff's family. It was a strange thing, to go anywhere in America, and still be drawn to this place, this boarded, burned, vandalized, and tarnished icon of what once was home. Jeff was dead, and now the Killer was in his place. The instinct was there, the hate and the rage were there, it was all Jeff needed to kill. And now, he was home. He went to the gate beside the house, and, opening it, slicked his way into the backyard. The shed still stood untouched by hooligans, as a statue to Jeff's hard working father, and contained the ingredients for Jeff's salvation. He grabbed the assortment of flammable materials, fluids, and a box of matches, and kicked open the back door to the house. The house creaked and groaned its disapproval of Jeff visiting, and Jeff began dumping the fuel throughout the house. He covered most of the bottom floor with fuel, and he headed upstairs, spraying lighter fluid on the stairway. He reached the landing, emptying the fluid canister, and started dumping gallons of kerosene up and down the hall, splashing it into the empty rooms. He stopped dead when he reached his old room. He nudged the door open and stepped inside, sending clouds of dust into the air. He saw the two beds, made up like they were when he'd left, except one bed was stained, a dark crimson color like dark wine. That's when he noticed the ring. It was a shiny, silver band that Liu always wore as a good luck charm. He immediately became enraged and started violently tossing the bucket of kerosene around, screaming and shouting and finally collapsing on the floor in defeat. He sniffled and sobbed uncontrollably, even producing a tear, and then, he stood, stomping out of the room, flying down the stairs, and grabbed the matches. He entered the den, where most of the remainder of his fuel was. He kicked and stomped every canister and finally pulled a bottle of bleach out of the closet. He doused himself in bleach and stuck a match, dropping it into the box with the other ones. The box of matches ignited into a small fireball in Jeff's hand, causing him to throw it to the floor. The rug was first to catch, flames spreading everywhere throughout the house. It burned and burned, but Jeff had already burned once, so his pain was easily ignored. He knelt down near the couch, where a picture of his family, lay trapped in a cracked frame. He threw the picture aside and stood, admiring his handiwork, and began to chuckle, a deep throaty sound, and he began to laugh louder and finally began shrieking and laughing. The house burned down on top of Jeff, the Fire Department bagging him and sending him to the morgue.

Louise had always been punctual. That's what made the staff supervisor at the morgue check on her, leading to a horrible discovery. There was a burn victim just wheeled in, not unusual for this time of year, and checking the report, he had done himself in. He was burnt up so bad, Louise couldn't tell what he was. His eyes were lidless, surrounded with burnt scar tissue, and his skin was super leathery and reptilian, and pale white as a ghost, and his mouth was stretched in a strange fashion. It was a smile cut deeply into his cheeks, pulling back his lips. The thing made a noise when she grabbed the scalpel to begin internal examination, causing me to jump. It sounded like a burp, so she proceeded. She made the first incision when Jeff sat bolt upright on the examination table screaming like a madman. She fell over, slicing her wrist open. He turned and looked, grinning as he did so, and stood up, his tattered remains of clothes falling off. He grabbed her and lifted her off the ground, slamming her onto the table. He strapped her down, and picked up a portable power bone saw. He leaned close to her, telling her to be quiet. " Ssssssshhhhhhh. Quiet now. You've cut me open, and now you've made me mad." He said, frowning distastefully, switching the saw on, it's high-pitched mechanical whining bringing fear to Louise's facial expression " You won't get away with this! People will look for me!" She shouted, shaking and visibly terrified. He only smiled and began laughing. He looked at her with admiration of her bravery. " Your gonna be fun. Oooohhhh yes. Entertain me! Say my name !" He said chuckling . " Say my name, and I'll let you go. Go ahead, say it. Say it! SAY MY NAME, YOU FUCKING WHORE!" He bellowed, raising the saw to her hands, bound over her head. She whimpered, and he dropped his arm, slicing her wrists open, blood flinging every which way it pleased. It splattered the floor, the table, and it splattered both Jeff and Louise. He cut down her forearms, one at a time, drawing more painful screams from her with each centimeter of flesh he severed. He cut and cut, until there was no more screams, only gurgling and blood dripping from the table in large drops, hitting the floor loudly, spreading it's strange story. Jeff stood over his kill, now a pile of mutilated flesh, savoring his kill. He leans forward, kissing what remained of her forehead, "Go To Sleep, Louise." And he snapped her neck. Bloody, naked, and full of adrenaline, he walked out the doors leading to the desk area. He reached the desk when the door was kicked in. Large men in S.W.A.T gear charged in, screaming at Jeff to freeze. Jeff simply kept walking, smiling and whistling as he did so. They repeated this several times, and finally threatened to open fire on Jeff. Jeff stopped, a yard away from them, and stared directly at them. He smiled and laughed at them. "It's bedtime. Time for you to GO TO SLEEP!" Jeff screamed as he charged forward. One shot, two shots......and many more after. The first shot hit Jeff's shoulder, going cleanly through the other side. The second hit his right upper arm, flinging his whole side back. That's when they opened up. There were 12 men with AR-15 assault weapons with 30 high impact rounds in each clip. They emptied each of their clips into Jeff, destroying his body, even blasting off his genitals in a cloud of blood. Before Jeff had been pronounced dead, they each shot him him the head, and in the heart, opening up two large holes that you could look through. They bagged him up, and dragged him to the autopsy room, calling in a crew to retrieve him, and leaving a man to wait with the remains. When the coroner arrived, there was only blood and a burning morgue. Upon inspection, the man left with Jeff was pinned to the wall, eyes stabbed out, and his mouth stretched into a hideous smile. And written above him in blood, were the words "GO TO SLEEP". There was no sign of Jeff, just bloody footprints leading out the front door and into the world. A world Jeff treats as his playground, his hunting grounds, humans, the prey, and Jeff the pale-skinned hunter..........

*Note: I gave Jeff the Killer a Michael Myers sort of immunity, in that he is indestructible by human means. He's like Freddy Krueger in the way he feeds on people's fear. And he's like Jason Vorhees, he's relentless, unstoppable, and supernaturally evil. He's, in a way, the worst thing out there, and he could be anywhere. Who knows? Maybe he's outside your window right this second, watching you read this............