im not stopping the others...i just had another idea. Anybody want to join in on my mass murder-psyco killer story? Open to all...if you dare! :p I can't remember why I did it, but I did it. The taste of power and fear, revenge and glory, did it always taste this sweet? I remember it well. He was pale as a ghost, sweaty, and on his knees. I remember the dagger, jewel encrested and covered in blood. I thrusted it into his side and twisted it ever so slightly. I pulled it out, and let it drip with his blood. I don't know why I did it, but it felt good.
Contratrary to what you may think it wasn't planned. It was spontaneous. It was one of those in the moment murders. Really I'm not crazy. I just get a high out of the pain, the way they tremble when the blade digs into their side, the way the blood drips from the wound. The blood makes me shiver sometimes. You know why, it makes a noise when it falls. It sounds like a sink leaking.... drip, drip, drip. (That's all I could come up with)
(Can I join?)
Can I join?
((can i join))
((Open to all as prevoiusly stated good luck))
Sometimes I get an urge to taste the blood... and I do. Everytime someone's red flesh liquid touches my tongue, I become enlightened on the whole reason why I kill in the first place.
It's the best feeling in the world to know that I've done it. I've completely a life, I've sent them somewhere better... Or somewhere worse. I have to get my fill, to send the person of my choice to their designated afterlife. I'm a savior, not a murderer. They are chosen, not victims. Every moment after the kill, I begin to drain away. I long for the next moment when I may reward one with the gift of darkness, the glorifying gift of death. When they may rest, rest in their beautiful dark blood.
I turn to look at my friend. He is dressed in such wonderful attire, I had to reward him and send him away. He was too ready. I hold my knife to the light. One maroon drop begins to drip down slowly. This send the hairs on my back crazy, I want to die for that drop.
But I am not worth yet.
I must finish my tasks, I must send those who most deserve my work off into the places we cannot currently reach.
I lick the drop with my tongue.
((This is amazing!! Keep it going!!)) I was ever so careful as to not leave a single trace of evidence behind. I know that the cops are slow but one cannot take chances on the level of stupidity. Besides, there was work to be done. At first it was easy. I made it look like that I killed my prostitute mother and my abusive father before I "killed" myself. Thank god that I was an only child. I changed my name and moved towns. But i had missed my apartment in the city. I went back with my grandfather's white gloves and my father's 18th century dagger. I began my spree that night.