Dear Diary, Book 2, Bitter Sweet...

Sunday, 1st January 2016 - Slayer: The First Kill

Sunday, 1st January 2016 - Slayer: The First Kill

Dear Diary

I watched as the animal took it's last breaths. It tried to spring away with it's large and powerful legs, but it's strength was no longer with it. The creature fell over as soon as it had risen. It's blood was soaking into it's own fur as well as the ground surrounding it.

I stood there and watched.

I had committed the first blow, and the final blow. Watching it die was just the first part of my reward.

After several moments, it's legs stopped twitching.

It was well and truly dead.

I unsheathed my knife from it's holster. The knife itself wasn't of the highest quality. Technically I wasn't allowed to own one. I was too young to purchase a knife, but only by a few months.

Holding the weapon in my hand, I bent down and started to cut up the recently deceased creature. It's fur felt so soft to the touch.

My father had been a butcher back in the day, and he had taught me how to skin animals. I was very skilled at it and could have done it in seconds. However, I did not.

I loved the look of the knife as it tore through skin, bone and organ. This was my favorite part of this operation. I wanted to have been able to hear the creature scream as I tore it apart, but I knew that those noises would draw the attention of any people nearby.

With great care, I removed each body part from the other, delicately cutting with my knife. I reveled in the sensation of the creature's parts as they were cut apart.

When I was finished, I spread apart each component of what had once been an animal. Of course, no one would call it such a thing now.

Now it was just a loose pile of blood, bones, flesh, and meat.

I wasn't going to eat it. There was no need or want for me to eat it. I just wanted to look at it, admiring it after I had worked my own special form of magic on it.

To my eyes, it was beautiful. It was quite possibly the best sight that I had ever seen.

I had always wanted to do something like this before. Kill an animal, and cut it up in this fashion.

When my father had been teaching me to butcher the meat, it had opened up a desire for knives and cutting that I had never known before. Every piece of meat that he had given me had felt differently. I could feel the difference between young and cold, cow, sheep, lamb, and the various body parts.

I had loved every piece of meat that I had ever cut up.

But this animal was infinitely better. Instead of being cold and tough like all the others had been, it was warm and soft. Every single part of the experience had been a pleasure like nothing that I had ever experienced.

I knew that I wanted to do it again.

I wanted to try it again.

I had to do it again.