Murderer's Journal

Murderer's Journal Short Story: Mother said, father said

      My mother said I couldn't become an actor, so I became the highest-paid actor in America. My father said I can be anything I wanted, so I became a murderer. It started off with old dolls and action figures when I was sixteen. I would press the flame from the lighter against the doll's face. Watching her pretty little features melt away. Oh, I get a feeling when I think about it today. I'd dismember the blonde toy, piece by piece. She was blonde like my mother and so fair-skinned. I'd take my mother's fluorescent red nail polish and paint it all over the dolls and action figures as if it was blood. My favorite part was crushing the dolls with my bare hands. Feeling every crack brought me great relief. 

    By the time I was graduating high school, I graduated into murdering living creatures. Squirrels, hamsters, and even raccoons! I'd capture them and I'd wound the with a shovel or something sharp. After that, I'd grab my gloves and start crushing their little necks. Watching their last breaths were my favorite part. Feeling the bones crush was my second favorite part. When I was 20 I decided to make the big move to America. It was surprisingly easy to break into Hollywood. Easier than breaking bones. I was told I had "the look." American casting directors adored my piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and sharp features. Unfortunately, they thought I was too pale, but spray tan fixed that issue. My accent was even more of a plus. My accent made everyone believe me. I think it made everyone think what I was saying was Bible. When I showed I could do a proper Ameican accent jobs came left and right. So much money I'd never had, and so much access to whatever I wanted.

   After being in my first hit movie I went back home. My father had passed. No one told me! He had been dead for three months my mother explained. I cried to the point my stomach started to ache. I pulled out my hair from frustration. Then I decided to pull out hers.  I SLAMMED her head against the counter until her skull cracked open. I was SO scared. SO much blood. How would I clean up this mess? How would I explain this? I express my worries to my managers back in America. I gave them a full confession over the phone. They said they would send help. I sat in the house a full three days with my mother's lifeless body. I laughed at some points. Not just because I'm mad, but because it felt so good. The rush of fear. Watching the blood flow. Feeling her cranium crack. Help finally arrived. They cleaned up and I had no police interested in what happened. I was back in America on a winning streak. I got even MORE popular when the public heard I lost my mom and dad within the same year.

      I started dating. I actually was dating a fan which was big publicity. I fell in love. We had a beautiful three-month relationship, but I couldn't resist myself. One night we're laying in bed, right, and she's playing little spoon and I play big spoon. Well, I decided to roll over unto her.  I used my right arm to crush her neck and I used my body to smother out the air. I felt her bones break on my arm. It was like I was on a roller coaster! Her little body dancing underneath me led to a very bumpy ride. Finally, she stopped moving. I roll back over on my back, and she POPPED up out of the bed and ran to the door. How is she still alive? I chased her as she was seconds from the front door. My bodyguard stopped her. She's screamed and begged for someone to help. Why wouldn't anyone help her? My maid turned her head. I looked at an old wine bottle on the table and I saw a corkscrew nearby. My mother used to collect corkscrews. I grabbed it and LODGED it in her heart. Blood went everywhere, but I didn't stop. I stabbed her in the same spot over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. My security had to pull me off. They got rid of any evidence and again money cures all.  

       I repeatedly did this once a week with a new female. It was a hobby. My assistant, Becky, warned me the police had me as a suspect. I became famous under a different name this time. THE CORKSCREW KILLER. It's not fair because I killed with more than just a corkscrew. None of the public knew it was me, but I took my assistance advice and stopped murdering people for some months. I dealt with hamsters on my time off. Sometimes snakes even when I got bored. Once again, I couldn't resist. I asked my assistant to buy me a chainsaw, and she did. She picked out the best chainsaw at the store. I never had one of my victims pick out their own murder weapon before. I chased her around the house with it. Ha. She was fast for a chubby girl. I finally got me a piece of her foot. She locked herself in the bathroom and I was not destroying my own door. She ended up bleeding out to death. It sucked, but at least I got to dismember her.

   I started to aim higher. A celebrity girl. Everyone would be SO sad when she died. She should really have thanked me because I was going to make her more famous than ever. I go through a  magazine and find an upcoming star. All the teens love her. She was a Jennifer Lawerence type. Sharla Davis was her name. I invited her for some wine. She was really, really nice. Unfortunately, this was her end. I took the corkscrew and slashed her throat with it. The shock on her face makes me giggle today. Well, anyway, that's pretty much my story. If you're still interested in dating while I rot in prison, well, there's something wrong with you. But, thanks for writing me. I only get hate mail these days.

With love,

Joshua.

P.S. I hear I'll be out in 10 years versus 15. I hope to see you soon ;)