UM(1) Creative Writing Club (Activity)

Rasp

Two hours into the ride.
The train's crossing the La Crosse bridge that spans over the Mississippi river.
It'd cost the old guy nearly an hour to reach the station from his town.

His back was telling the story of loneliness but his face said otherwise. The same triumph a new champion would wear. Only, a lot less loud. He was snapping his trembling fingers while humming the same song his mouth was awfully familiar with in the early 80s.
"...Rid me of the problems, do all that you can
Keep me in a daydream, keep me goin' strong
You don't want to save me, sad is my song
When you believe in things you don't understand
Then you suffer... hmm yeh yeh..."

Good old times.
He would draw lines, marking his slices while humming this song.
He would ignore their pleas while dancing to this song and snapping his skilled fingers.
He enjoyed every spurt of red juice when he sliced arteries of the blindfolded,naked victims on the steel bar which he named "Pleasure Punishment Bed"(PPB for short).

It wasn't avenge that drew him into that business.
It had always been on his bucket list and he happened to go through the mid-life crisis during the years. He allowed himself two years for his little adventure. He killed 6 people, all of them had nothing in common. Not their age. Not their financial status. Not on the same gender spectrum.

Before he killed that old politician, he got a few interesting information. He leaked them at an appropriate time and in came a good shot of dollars. That old man was still useful even after his death. He knew how to make deals, but he met the last boss and he failed.

The woman and the drag queen high-pitched out of their lungs. Nearly 3,000 sentences. Curses inclusive.

The woman looked too carefree and happy. His curiosity spiked up to see her reaction to his murder. The drag queen followed him in the bar.
He didn't want to disrespect the queen who cared about him.

His fourth kill, a talented teen, didn't beg for mercy. To his surprise, kid asked him to end his life with an injection.
"Slice me afterwards, uncle. Pretty please."
He hated his guts for breaking his own rules at that time.His kept his textbooks. As a remembrance.

He read them every time he felt nostalgic. He pulled out the literature textbook. The kid's notes were so detailed and neat. Our old man couldn't shake the thought that he deserved this reward even after twenty years or so.

After a thirty-minutes-read, his spondylosis made him close the book. Deteriorating body of his hadn't stopped to change. Each day, the pain worsened.

One of his victims was a schizophrenic patient who constantly got lost between reality and the world his body created. His world changed continuously. Things got out of his control. He cut off the medications of the ill one. He watched him suffer between his own worlds and his slices of torture. Our killer was satisfied with it.  He believed the PPB would think the same if it had brain.

He killed his best friend, Klinton. He was the first guy to see who the infamous killer was because his belief was: "friends don't keep secrets."
Klinton was his last...
He enjoyed the bitterness his friend threw at him the most.

He escaped the jury for all his kills just fine. No arrest was made. He was a neat bloke. He followed the basic killing rules;no fingerprints, no forgotten properties, no one to be kept alive and such. He never took a day off the bank he worked at. He made sure his alibi stay realistic as he carried misinformation to his co-workers of his whereabouts. He later felt it wasn't necessary since no officer came to inspect him. He was never a suspect of his friend's murder either. Klinton was a troublesome guy with a lot of haters out there.

Just three more hours to Chicago.
He felt the breeze formed by speed against his face. The window seats were his favourite for they allow access to serenity and breeze.

By the end of the day, he would completely be free of the press charges and arrests. The time limit would be expired by then.

"When you believe in things you don't understand
Then you suffer
Mediocrity ain't the way... hmmm yeh yeh"
He hummed again as the train ran past some trees and entered a tunnel.