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Brandon's StoryAuthors Comments: tell me what you think about it
Creative
 Created on 10-31-08
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 Story Rating G
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Brandon’s Story
By Shirley Mae Steele
The sirens blazed through the night, they were getting closer and closer to me. Someone had finally caught on to my work.
I smiled wickedly at my latest victim. The woman on the floor stared at me with empty eyes. I never got her name, but she put up an excellent fight.
Blood stained her long flowing golden hair. Her shirt was an ice blue, but now it was deep crimson red. Blood-soaked jeans covered her slender legs.
I let out a low dark chuckle. The way she had scratched my arms and face would surely have left my skin under nails. It would’ve given me away, if I hadn’t planned to stay.
The knife in my hand felt heavy but I couldn’t let go of it now, I still had another job to do. A job that would make me immortal…
Blood dripping from my hands caught my attention. I drew my left hand up to my face and licked the blood that was smeared across the back of it.
The taste of it always shocked me, as it always did. I always expect it to be rich and satisfying, but every time it was bland and nearly tasteless.
I rubbed the side of my face, smearing blood everywhere. I realized what I’d done and laughed. Tonight was perfect.
Red and blue lights flashed through the windows of the small tattered, abandoned house I had chosen for my last stand. Immortality was moments away.
I looked at my feet; my thirteenth victim staring at me with, what I could have sworn, happiness. There was a smirk on her face, or maybe it was my imagination.
Whatever it was, I ignored it and kicked her in the side. Her limp body rolled to the right, making her gaze focus on something else.
I turned away and heard the voices of men not too far from the entrance door. It was time
I looked at the knife in my hands. It wasn’t going to “cut” it. I snorted at my cruel joke and threw the knife to the floor.
I reached deep into my trench coat and withdrew a 9mm handgun. The perfect tool for my perfect job…
I heard the entry door burst open. It would be seconds until the police found me.
I sat down in a rocking chair off to my left. I had brought it down from the living room to the basement, where I am now.
I closed my eyes and my mind flashed back to the faces of my other victims.
The first had been my best friend, an accident but thrilling. I knew I had wanted more at the time.
The second was a woman I had met in a bar. Her beautiful black hair was even more beautiful when it was soaked in her own blood.
The third and fourth were old high school flings. They deserved it.
Victims five through ten had been people on the street that I had snatched. All their faces were blurred in my memory.
Number eleven was my cousin. He just stumbled in on number ten. It was a waste, but exciting.
Twelve deserved it as well. He was a horrible step-father.
And then there was this chick. I had lured her like victim number two, only I had never gotten her name.
There was still to be one more victim that fell by my hands, one who would be remembered forever. Me.
I lifted the gun to my temple when I heard footsteps rushing down the stairs. I opened my eyes as they burst into the room.
“Perfect immortality."
Comments
Please Login to post comments| On November 7th 2008 writter103 Said : | |
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Very well written I like it. |
| On November 7th 2008 GreatRomancess Said : | |
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WHoa! That was intense! You did a great job!! You really put the reader inside this person's head!! It was really well written!!!!! It was twisted, but I like that it's different anyway; doing it from the killers point of view. It's still sad for the victims, but then it's supposed to be, right? It's kind of sickening, but I'm such a bleeding heart. Ha ha, so I'm rambling. But you did a GREAT job! And should I make a mental not to steer clear of you? lol. |
