Memories of a killer
Introduction:
When you live a life aimed at the ending of others, memories are haunting
People, good people, are of such a great value and rare quantity, that at times I’ve held their worth as greater than gold, diamonds, life or any other substance on this earth. Humans however, are a sick, loathsome and disgusting disease that continuously plagues the earth and when not ravishing her resources, are brutalizing and defiling themselves, and each other.
It was because of this I began down the road I have traveled in life. I was always good with a gun as well as a blade. I could swing an axe to cut wood and bring down trees as easily as I breathed. Hunting came as naturally to me as walking. I was smart, held two jobs, eventually made a fortune through investing and good luck in stock trade. But in one day, my whole life was shattered.
I came home to find a man in the midst of raping my fiancee. I don’t really remember grabbing the knife, but I do remember the hot, burning warmth of his blood as it bathed my hands. It seemed almost too easy, the point of the blade seemed to just glide through his neck, cutting the arteries, veins and spine. And again before I even knew what I was doing I had him in my arms and with a violent twist I heard his neck snap and felt his already dying body go limp.
He lay there on the floor, the wound in his neck draining his blood surrounding him in a pool. Seconds seem to take hours to pass. My fiancee bathed and collapsed in the shower weeping. I learned much later it was her old ex I had slain, he’d come back to see her without our knowing and sank back into his old ways.
Fast forward a month and I was being sentenced to first degree murder. Strange, I save my future wife from the forced acts of an already known criminal and I’m the one getting fried in the witness chair.
Even though I was found not guilty, the whole act proved enough, the system was corrupt, no justice was ever really done, and all the while, rape, murder, pedophilia, incest, slavery, prostitution and lawlessness ran rampant. Within days I knew what my calling was. It took only an hour to erase everything, my birth certificate gone, medical records erased, social security vanished, and all my money withdrawn. I was nobody, and I had work to do.
My first kill was an old mother of around 39. She had bragged about the rape and murder of her sons and daughters, the media ate it up, feeding it to the writhing mass of maggots that loved such garbage.
She even planned on writing her story down to sell. Well I said no to that.
Amazing was the only word for how vain she was as well as how insanely EASY it was to get to her. I played myself well, casually getting to know her, eating dinner at a 5 star place, before finally coming back to her hotel.
In an almost unreal clarity I can remember everything. Her turning back to me after closing the door, the eager look on her face turning to one of surprise as she saw the gun in my hand, the forever frozen look of confusion as I pulled the trigger and the .45 caliber slug ripped through her skull and out the other side, splattering the door and wall with the wet red, pink and gray remains of her brain.
It took a moment for me to gather it all in again. It’s always the sudden LACK of action that brings out the emotion after a kill. The transformation of another living, breathing animal into nothing but a body, void of life or action. A mere second before she was alive with movement, thought and feeling, but now, nothing. I had turned her into what she truly was. But I was far from finished.
Tom Jones was a young college student, he was walking back to his dorm that night when he saw the object fall from the sky. It was with confusion that he picked up the strange mass before dropping it in fright and revulsion upon seeing he was holding a woman’s severed head.
The police were horrified to enter her hotel room and find her skinned headless body hanging from the ceiling by her ankles. Ancient curses and words of hate had been painted on the walls with her blood and her organs and soft pale skin lay in a pile beneath her.
By the time everything had been found out I was already on my way into another state. My new life had started, and I had an eternity of work ahead. Strangely enough, I looked forward to it. Living a decent life in this day and age is hard. But killing? Killing’s as easy as breathing.
The next kill was a pedophile, serial child molester. At first glance the man wasn’t someone you could assume to be so sick and mental inverted. The sick pig could through a bunch though, I’ll give him that. Our first confrontation left me with a cut lip and a few loose teeth. I intercepted him at the hospital and was less cautious, several people heard the crash as I threw him through the glass doors. It was then he stabbed me in the side.
After shattering his arms I decided enough was enough, I held his head between my hands and had him stare me in the eyes. Slowly I began to squeeze, pressing my palms harder and harder against his temples. I glared at him and too late did he realize what wrath was coming down on him.
There was a crunching, snapping pop as the side of his head finally caved in, blood burst from his nostrils and out of the backs of his eyes. He slumped to the ground. If he was still alive in any way the last thing he would of seen is my size 13 boot heel coming straight down onto his face. The whole front of his skull collapsed inward from the impact, and his brains popped out the sides of his worthless mangled head.
I rode off again that night, stopping at a private safe house, provided to me by a good friend.
I slept peacefully that night. For now I was fine with my new life, but I had much, much more to do…
