The Art of Death Last Moments
My heart was pounding like a freight train inside of my chest as I deftly crept towards my kill. I love the art of murder. As a matter of fact murder had throughout my life, become an all-consuming passion of mine.
It was more of a lifestyle choice than anything. Nothing else could compare to the feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins, making my blood feel red hot like lava. It was my motivation to up the intensity in this animalistic game I tend to play with my victims.
I like to terrify them as much as I can before taking their life. Terrified prey makes the best prey. There’s nothing quite like seeing fear in their life filled eyes and knowing that I created it. Then it’s all the more pleasing when I get to watch the soul, or essence that is them, leave their eyes as my knife helps me drain them of all that life giving liquid. I feel true power knowing that I completely terrify my victim's the way I do. It’s kind of a second part of me that has ingrained itself into my murderous side.
There's no reason for it, I don’t have any kind of grudge against them personally. In fact, as a rule, I don’t generally know the people that I kill. It’s much more satisfying having little to no connection to myself if their body would happen to be found. It’s also not like I collect bodies. I have no further use for them once I’ve finished dispatching them. They had lived out their purpose at that point. I liked to leave the bodies to be discovered. That’s why it was extra important to be careful when having my fun. Leaving evidence behind is the biggest no-no.
I tried to leave it looking like there was no rhyme or reason for my doing the things that I do. I simply love it and want it to continue. The number one reason that people get caught for murder is they start being looked at as a suspect for one reason or another. Whether that reason was because they talked too much, admitted their crime to the wrong person, or simply got too sloppy didn’t matter. The problem was with them becoming a suspect in the first place. It must always be strangers, never someone too familiar. Killing someone you know was pretty much asking to be talked to by the police, not recommended if you’re trying to remain unconnected.
I am descending like an unknown darkness upon a good looking couple who are running from me like I was a demon they had just watched escape a portal from hell. I hadn’t even hurt either one of them yet, and here they were both afraid for their lives. Anyone else besides me would consider this irrational behavior. I however, knew exactly what I had planned… and they were right to scream, for I mean to kill them.
It was purely the act of murder I was after. I wanted nothing to do with sex in any way shape or form. I don't want to rape his girlfriend, or him for that matter. I just wanted to feel their bodies twitch and go limp as I help the last of their blood drop out of their bodies. I don't think that's asking too much for the beautiful experience I was about to give them. I was offering them relief from a painful existence. I was offering them relief from the fear that their life could be taken at any moment.
They say the best way to get over a fear is to face it head-on right? Well I don’t want to disappoint whoever “They” are.
The first one of them to be reached wasn't the girlfriend this time. I know, what a shock. And it wasn’t even that he was trying to stay behind and protect the woman he loved. It was only because he was slower than her. Judging from the sound of his heavy breathing, he was a chain smoker. He was breathing like he had just ran a marathon and it had literally only been about two blocks that I was following them.
As I came up behind him, I reached up and grabbed his collar. It was now sticking up off his polo shirt after all the physical commotion recently, such as the running and stumbling trying to get away. His muscles were starving for oxygen that was readily available. As my hand grabbed his collar, I yanked him backwards knocking him off balance. He was still trying to run but the top half of his body wasn't able to as I jerked back. He tripped over his own legs and fell backwards scrambling to get back up in a panic before I was right on top of him. He was running purely on instinct right now, he wasn’t even thinking about what he could do, he was just afraid.
I grabbed the knife I had in my right hand with my left hand, tossing it as I had done a hundred times from hand to hand. All the while I was staring right into his wide open eyes. I walked around him, holding his shirt so he couldn’t just dart away making me chase him again. I continued until I was facing him with the knife tip pointed in his face directly near his eyeball.
“Calm down.” I said in my most motivational voice. I quickly yelled for his girlfriend as well, “Honey, I think I've got a little something here you might not want to leave behind.”
Even in her panic she still had the sense to stop for a second as she was running to look back at us sitting in the street. She was breathing heavily and I knew it would be hard for her to start running fast right away if she started again. I could see she was really confused on what exactly she should do at the moment. Her eyes were darting back and forth and her lips were pursed almost as if she were about to say, “What” She truly seemed to love her man, she also understood that I was more than the two of them together could handle.
She had no fight in her eyes. She was afraid for her life and that fear is the only thing that created a slim sliver of bravery in her. I could see just from looking in her eyes that she was torn. On one side, she wanted to run, she wanted to run with everything she had in her, just get away from me and my terrorizing eyes.
In all honesty I had done nothing more than walk towards them at first. She noticed me and became afraid. She hid behind her man and I just continued walking, deliberately slow. When I started to get closer, keeping my calm cool composure, He finally stepped up.
“What do you want man?” He asked with a shaky voice too young for a question of confrontation.
I said nothing, just pulled a knife out of my pocket careful to let them see the light glimmering off of it from the little amount of streetlight out here. There was nobody else out so I wanted to be a bit nefarious as I played. At that point she pulled his arm to start walking and he followed suite without hesitation.
The quickness with which he started walking after her made me laugh. It was a dark ominous laugh that echoed behind them. While I was following them, I flashed my knife again and she began to panic and start running. He looked back at me and then at her and decided he would take his chances being closer to her than I and followed her example, running with all his might.
I knew there was nowhere to go besides down an alleyway up the block which led to nothing but empty space and a closed off end with a fence. If they were going to hide from me, it would have to be by sneaking around buildings before I turned the corner hoping I didn’t switch it up on them, and start walking the other way around the building, catching them in reverse. She had been making this more fun for me since the beginning than he had; I wanted her to have a sacrifice, from me, just for her.
I put my hand up in front of me, waving my finger for her to come towards me and her lover again. She started crying but complied slowly. I could see her knees shaking and wobbling as she walked back towards us. She was absolutely horrified at what might happen. I wondered what kind of trauma had been in her past to make her so afraid of a knife wielding stranger. I mean, there wasn’t really even a shimmer of bravery in her at all. Just panic and running from me in the pathetic manner she had. It was less the run of a track star and more, the run of a band geek.
She looked at me with a question in her eyes, like, “Should I really come to you?” I just smiled at her warmly and shook my head yes as she kept walking to me. I wanted to let her know that this was the right choice for her to make. I could see the hood of her sweatshirt had a string in it so I told her to pull that string out of her hoodie as she walked towards me. She wouldn’t dare do anything risky while I had my blade pressed into her man’s throat. He already had a white line where it had been pressing, she was going to avoid making that red at all costs. She complied and handed me the string within seconds. I then told her to tie one hand of hers with one end of the string. She had to use her teeth to get it tight enough to satisfy me. I told her to double knot it so it was around her wrist and wouldn’t slip off.
She probably figured she was about to get raped at knifepoint. In her mind I’m sure that was still better than being murdered. I told her to tie his other hand to her hand so that they were bound together hand-in-hand. I wanted to make it as romantic as I could for them.
Now that they were tied together, hand in hand. I made them face each other and look into each other's crying eyes. She got on her knees in front of him and they faced each other. They both wanted to be brave for the other about the situation they were going through together right now. I told her to give him a kiss telling him that she loved him and not to be afraid. There are many things in life to be afraid of; facing a situation with panic is one of them. You can do things like forget to keep your wits about you and question things. She leaned forward, her head shaking slightly like a shiver. She kissed him on the lips softly.
“Is that all?” I asked seriously. “Come on, show him you love him, tell him, ‘I love you’ and give him a kiss.”
She said “I love you.” between a couple of sniffles and leaned forward to kiss him again, this time, closing her eyes and pressed her soft lips up against his more meaningfully this time.
Suddenly she felt a warmth spreading across her chest on her shirt. Her first thought was that maybe one of them was for some reason reaching out to grab her breasts. If it was her boyfriend she wondered what the hell was wrong with him doing that at this moment. If it was the guy with the knife, she had a whole other world of problems to worry about.
As she opened her eyes, she tried to recoil from what she saw in front of her. As she had been kissing her lover, a sweet kiss in a sour moment, I had taken the knife and shoved it through the side of his neck, carefully holding his head so she wouldn't feel it jolt. As he was bleeding out, he was bleeding all over her making her sweater warm and heavy. She tried to scream as she stood up to run.
Since she was tied to him though, she couldn't do anything but try lifting his body up to carry it with her, of course she failed. I grabbed her by the face with my other hand before she would start screaming again. I didn’t want her to get too loud and alert anyone. There wasn't anyone usually out at this hour but I didn't want to take any chances someone might hear her and come by. Just a safety precaution I liked to take to avoid witnesses and things like that.
As she looked at me I could tell she was panicked and in complete shock. She couldn't believe that this was really happening. I don't think she actually believed it had really just happened. When she looked up at me and her eyes met with mine, I felt that would the perfect moment to reach up and in one smooth motion, slice her throat open with my knife. As she stared into my eyes I saw hers go from wide-eyed and shocked looking to surprised and a little angry, before finally rolling into acceptance as she started to lose consciousness herself. She slowly slumped to the ground in a mesmerizing, almost seeming like it was on purpose, slow manner.
It was a beautiful thing watching the moment of death.
I guess honestly that all depends on how the murder was committed. There are many more beautiful art forms of murder than others. For instance, the beautiful spray of blood, the warmth, the way the skin is so pure and then once it's sliced open all of it looks the same. It all pours the same red life-giving liquid as the next.
Guns were similar as far as their appeal. It’s definitely entertaining to watch a dark hole in a body turn into a fountain. It's interesting how cuts and bullet holes can take a while to actually start bleeding. I'm not a huge fan of them as they make things too easy but you still have to worry about evidence and people possibly hearing the gun go off.
My least favorite is strangling. Strangulation, as far as I'm concerned, is the lamest form of murder. When I see killers that are habitual stranglers, I have to wonder if they were really putting their hearts into it or not. Strangulation is more a form of passionate death. It can be beautiful when done in the heat of the moment. It was meant to be for quick dispatching’s for people who can't handle the real art involved in murder.
I would like to be remembered for all of the murders I've committed over the years. There have been some really good ones I had created. Mysteries that were better left to the imagination rather than explained sometimes. Things that were so twisted and irrational the full story could only be guessed at. Sometimes I make it a point to be as brutal as I can. In death, you can only give the respect you are given. Whether you are dealing the pain, or dealing with it, makes no difference, there’s a code to murder, on both ends. If you’re going to be involved in murder, at least make it something that will be talked about for years to come.
They talk about Darkness inside of a human being that makes them the way they are. I've never noticed anything besides a natural feeling I’ve always had. In all actuality I don't really understand the decision not to murder that people make on a daily basis. There's no reason for it, why would anyone hold back these true feelings of passion when the situation demands it.
I even remember killing from an early age, when I was 5 years old I recall seeing a bird that had fallen out of its nest onto the ground. It was chirping probably trying to call its mother to hopefully save it from this hell it had moved itself into by falling out of the nest. I walked up to it and picked it up by the neck and brought it close to my face. It was chirping but not quite so desperately as before, it probably thought I was there to help it but instead of help it I started to squeeze its fragile little neck just curious to see what would happen.
Soon the chirping ceased because the bird could not make any noise since my hand was cutting off its ability to breathe like a snake squeezing its prey. I kept squeezing it harder and eventually heard a cracking and it stopped moving all together. That was the day I realized that life was precious and could be taken even if by accident.
I remember my mother coming out and seeing what happened, she didn't know that I had just had a deep realization of what life was and how weak and frail it could be. She just thought that I accidentally had picked it up and squeezed it too hard and not much else was said about it, but I never forgot that day.
Not long after that, maybe a year or so, I was playing on the playground with a bunch of other kids and this little boy was getting ready to go down the slide. Every time right before he got to the top he would make this sound effect that was like a bird chirping. I was constantly being reminded of that bird and it made me think of how easily I had taken its life. I didn't really know that killing someone was a bad thing and in fact at the time my mother didn't show me that it was bad. I happened to look over at his mother who was looking down reading a book, not paying attention and before I knew it my hands had pushed the little boy, instead of down the slide, I had pushed him off of the jungle gym where he fell, hitting his head on a bar and flipping around landing on his head again, this time with a sickening crunch.
That fall didn't kill him, but it did ruin his life. I remembered seeing him sometime later, he was in a wheelchair and didn't remember anything that happened to him that day. They thought he had just fallen off and hit his head like kids do but I knew better. I never said a word to anyone about it. That was because of the intensity his mother had shown when she realized her baby was on the ground unconscious and not moving. I didn't want that kind of intensity she was showing directed at me who had been the one who hurt her child. I at least had enough sense to know that much at such a young age.
Instead I circled around with a couple of the other kids squatting down feigning concern for this little boy which seem to satisfy everyone. His mother was frantic. She didn't want to listen to anyone who was trying to calm her down, she would slap at their hands and grab her son and hold him crying and screaming. “It's going to be okay!” over and over. She made it very apparent that her life would be empty without him. Later on I would take the boy's life in my teens, I would always say I did it to ease his suffering, but in reality it was just to finish the job I had started so long ago.
I just seem to have been born without remorse. I've never felt it; I've never once thought that I was or felt sorry for anyone. Life is what life is and we're all handed a different deal, it's up to us to play the game the best we can with what we're given. There is no direction there is no guidance besides what parents tell us that they've learned and regurgitate, in hopes that we can learn what they regurgitate to us and further spew that vomit on future generations until it's one big mess of control and nobody knows what the real truth is anymore, they know only what they've all learned and had heaved upon them.
No, my direction would be much different than that, I don't care about Humanity as a whole, we all die, I just like to choose when people die rather than let fate decide, it's more fun that way.
Like What you read?
