Horror Stories

Voodoo

I leave her party alone, not drunk though a little tipsy. It's dark, but I can't afford cab fare. A twenty-five minute walk home, twenty if I take the shortcut through the woods. I saunter, slowly tapping to the music still playing in my head, looking forward to a long shower and a fun, late night study session.

Going through the woods, I'm fifteen minutes away from my house already. The night is clear and I stop for a minute to take in the beauty of the calm. It's silent except for the low chirps of the insects. Then, I hear a sudden, sharp crunch of leaves. Turning to look behind me, I squint in the darkness. A squirrel runs past me, across the narrow winding path, disappearing back into the trees. I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful it's just a squirrel and not some creep. I really don't want to use my doll today.

I quicken my pace. I'm nearing the lighted clearing in the woods, the one with the old security post with a broken window. There is no security now, but the single streetlamp still works, casting a hazy white light over the small section of the path. I hear another crunch behind me, and heavy breathing. Okay, so it was a creep. He emerges from the darkness, stepping into the light. He looks old, I'd guess fifty? He's well dressed, in a suit, and looks well kept. Was he at the party? Was he following me the entire time? I can feel his gaze on my low V-neck. Disgusted, I recoil. He doesn't hurry to get at me, but I see a small blade glint in his right hand. He gives me a low whistle, which makes my stomach revolt in disgust. My legs shake and my breath comes out in short gasps as I try to think rationally. I can't run far, and I'm not very fast, especially in my tight, pencil heels. I really didn't want to use my doll today, but there's nothing I can do. Look at the guy, he deserves it. Once I make the decision to use my doll, I feel safe and stop backing away. I calmly fish the doll and needles out of my small purse, feeling much more composed now.

"What's your name, sir?" I ask, innocently.

He seems taken aback, probably very unused to this type of reaction. I'm just buying myself some time to examine his features. Having his real name would be better but I have to be able to see how he looks. Light eyes and greying hair, a few wrinkles, a pixie nose.

"I know what you want, and I can give it to you, but let's be civil about this," I say, flirtatiously.

"What the f*ck," This pig spits out. "What're you holding b***h?"

"Oh, it's just a little doll," I say, cocking my head and bringing the doll up to my eye. I stick a needle into the doll, cutting right through his little X eye. The low-life's eyes scrunch up in pain, and he whimpers, bringing his palm up to his left eye socket. His left eye has been ruptured out, hanging out of the socket, lying against his cheekbone and held by veins and nerves and such. The blood drips down his face like runny red egg yolk. Much more effective than your classic pepper spray. I swallow and purse my lips to contain my smile, unwilling to admit how much I enjoy this, unwilling to admit to myself that I'm a monster.

I jab the needle deeper through my doll, right through to the other side of the face. The old coot screams in anguish, crumpling to the floor. I should leave. He's seriously maimed, bleeding out, lying on the floor in agony. I can walk away safely now, but the inner villain in me wants to stay, to hurt him more, to kill him. I walk towards him almost involuntarily, like a dark force inside me is pulling me to him. I check his pockets, careful to not leave prints, as he writhes on the ground in utter agony, probably unable to comprehend what is happening. I get out his wallet from his coat pocket, all his ID adds up. Jack Kepner. What a classic creep name, Jack.

I contemplate leaving again, but my monstrous inner desires are too wild to control. I grin as I pull my cigarette lighter out of my purse and light my doll's leg up. The flame glitters in my eye as I come to terms with how despicable I truly am. Jack lets out a piercing shriek, before his working eye lutters shut and his body goes limp. There is no heat around him, but I know that his leg is burning up, worse than fourth-degree burns, while leaving his pants virtually untouched and intact.

He's practically dead, but I'm compelled to stay, curious to see just how much I can harm him. I toss my voodoo back into my purse and take out a tissue, tempted to use the blade, to see how it feels to plunge it into Jack's skin, to hear the sounds of gutting Jack's throat. Viscerally, I use the tissue to pick up the blade that he dropped on the ground, and rotate it in my arms. It's light, comfortable to hold, a little like a pocket knife, but larger. I kneel over Jack, and picture the blade disappearing into his skin. I plunge it into his neck. The texture feels strange, but familiar, as if I've done this before, or as if I've been meant to do it. It feels like home.

Jack's body goes rigid for a second before seizing and contorting. His good eye flies open and it looks at me, seemingly pleading. What is with this guy? How is he still alive? I sit there in silence, watching him bleed out and die, feeling happier and sated than I have in months. After a few minutes of him seizing, he goes still and his eye finally flutters shut.

I feel warm inside as I leave and walk home, relaxed, knowing what evil brings me the most joy. I can't wait to try this again! ^~^

Okay, rereading through this, it sounds a lil emo, but I like it uwu. Also, also, if ou liked it, leaving comments really helps me. Anyways, I'm gonna try to make a Voodoo song. 

Here are some Voodoos and Toro toro bozus I made today and hung in my closet room.

Bam. Wooooo. Night night, uwu <3