Twisted Mind

As I grew, so did my hunger to kill. It kept my blood warm and flowing. Some may call that inhuman, but I just call that my destiny.

I started out with small things. You know, rats, stray animals..
The chase was fun. It built up my excitement.
When I would get them in my clutches, I'd carve them up, nice and pretty. After, I'd hang their holey leaking bodies with my trusty rope in the basement and watched as they dripped into the buckets that I had placed below.
Oh, the aroma.

After about two days they were empty and I placed them into boxes which I stored away for later use. I then took the blood-filled buckets.

So; I had this wall..
It was an empty wall; plain and white. You would definitely think it'd need some color -.. I did.

I poured the blood down it.
It was looking better already.
I stuck my hands deep into the warm, thick contents of the bucket.
Then, I began to drag my fingers across the yet unstained the wall.
It was like finger paints, really. I was making art.
I drew all sorts of cute pictures. ..Bats, trolls, Rabid dogs..
Too bad mommy couldn't see.
She'd be proud, I'm sure.