What Comes Around Goes Around
DArkness
He could feel the life leave her and he relished the feeling. It sent pleasant chills racing up and down his spine. Smiling menacingly he withdrew his dagger from the now dead girl at his feet. He loved the feel of her life substance as he licked it off the dark blade. It was young and rich with young life. He chuckled. Hell she was a virgin too! That’s a bonus he didn’t expect. Girls her age lost their innocence with an uncaring air to its value. He should know; he would stand aloof and watch them from the shadows.
He straitened up to his full height and slowly lowered his hood. His face was covered in old scars, creating a fulsome affect that he cherished. It was a hobby of his to shorten the lives of the people that caught his interest. Shadow wasn’t always such a sanguinary monster. No, before all this he was a lithesome stripling who enjoyed life.
Life didn’t seem to enjoy him though. People always found reason to give him bloody noses and broken bones. His first kill was his own mother. She would always nag at him and tell him he was worthless, saying that he put her through so much misery it was his fault she liked the drink.
“Why can’t you be like other boys?”
“I am sorry mother.”
“No you’re not; if you were sorry you wouldn’t be such a burden!”
That was how it all started out. She had gone back to drinking her beer and he simply went to his room and got his baseball bat and hit her in the head with it. At first she didn’t do anything but curse at him for getting blood on the floor before she went back to drinking. The second hit sent her crashing to the floor, the back of her head making a sickening crunch and leaving goo on the bat. It was that crunch that flipped the switch in his brain and made him smile wolfishly as he continued hitting her and hitting her, until she was nothing but a broken lump of bleeding flesh.
He ended it by killing his father next. The man was good to him true, but Shadow was blood-thirsty and needed to blame someone. So he wiped the baseball bat clean and forced his father to hold it, thus putting his own prints on it. Then he made him hold his gun to his own chin and pull the trigger. It was pure art. The husband comes home, beats the hell out of his wife and kills her before knifing his son and shooting himself. Genius! In his delirium he took the carving knife to himself and put it in his father’s empty hand before making the call to the police.
Remembering his first kill fondly, shadow tucked his dagger into his waistband and started smearing the girl’s blood everywhere, including him self. It was his thing, like all serial killers have. Only he made it look like someone else did it. He walked over to the table and pulled the boy out and started smearing him in blood too, even adding a few deep cuts to the boys arms and face. The boy would take the blame for it sense he was still breathing. Shadow didn’t feel like killing him, not yet anyway. He could always come back and kill him when the boy was found innocent months, maybe years from now. That would give him time to find and stalk his next victim.
Satisfied with his job he stood the limp boy up and dropped him, making it look like he fainted. He smiled gleefully and pulled the hood back over his face and melded into the shadows. A block away he phoned the police and made an anonymous call before hanging up and disappearing.
He straitened up to his full height and slowly lowered his hood. His face was covered in old scars, creating a fulsome affect that he cherished. It was a hobby of his to shorten the lives of the people that caught his interest. Shadow wasn’t always such a sanguinary monster. No, before all this he was a lithesome stripling who enjoyed life.
Life didn’t seem to enjoy him though. People always found reason to give him bloody noses and broken bones. His first kill was his own mother. She would always nag at him and tell him he was worthless, saying that he put her through so much misery it was his fault she liked the drink.
“Why can’t you be like other boys?”
“I am sorry mother.”
“No you’re not; if you were sorry you wouldn’t be such a burden!”
That was how it all started out. She had gone back to drinking her beer and he simply went to his room and got his baseball bat and hit her in the head with it. At first she didn’t do anything but curse at him for getting blood on the floor before she went back to drinking. The second hit sent her crashing to the floor, the back of her head making a sickening crunch and leaving goo on the bat. It was that crunch that flipped the switch in his brain and made him smile wolfishly as he continued hitting her and hitting her, until she was nothing but a broken lump of bleeding flesh.
He ended it by killing his father next. The man was good to him true, but Shadow was blood-thirsty and needed to blame someone. So he wiped the baseball bat clean and forced his father to hold it, thus putting his own prints on it. Then he made him hold his gun to his own chin and pull the trigger. It was pure art. The husband comes home, beats the hell out of his wife and kills her before knifing his son and shooting himself. Genius! In his delirium he took the carving knife to himself and put it in his father’s empty hand before making the call to the police.
Remembering his first kill fondly, shadow tucked his dagger into his waistband and started smearing the girl’s blood everywhere, including him self. It was his thing, like all serial killers have. Only he made it look like someone else did it. He walked over to the table and pulled the boy out and started smearing him in blood too, even adding a few deep cuts to the boys arms and face. The boy would take the blame for it sense he was still breathing. Shadow didn’t feel like killing him, not yet anyway. He could always come back and kill him when the boy was found innocent months, maybe years from now. That would give him time to find and stalk his next victim.
Satisfied with his job he stood the limp boy up and dropped him, making it look like he fainted. He smiled gleefully and pulled the hood back over his face and melded into the shadows. A block away he phoned the police and made an anonymous call before hanging up and disappearing.