Disturbed Thoughts

A short story about a man who has very dark thoughts and wonders what to do about them.

 

He draped his arm around his girlfriend. She smiled at him and leaned in closer to him. They were out celebrating their fifth anniversary together. After a night of eating and dancing, they had decided to take a walk along the beach. They strolled together under the moonlight listening to the soft sound of the waves hitting the sand. While looking at her, a thought suddenly ran through his head. He imagined his hand cupped firmly around her throat and just squeezing. Such a tender part of the body. He wondered what it would be like. How would it feel when her neck finally snapped and the breath went out of her body? He shook the thought out of his head. He moved his arm from her shoulder and held her hand. They walked down the beach talking about whatever came to mind.

 

   He woke up the next morning with the sun. He got out of bed and went through his daily morning routine. He showered, brushed his teeth, cleaned himself and did his hair. He fixed himself a bagel and sat down to eat it. As he bit into it the cream cheese fell onto his shirt.

   “Great,” he muttered to himself. He went to his closet and pulled out another shirt. It was wrinkled all over but he had no other shirts that he could wear to work. He pulled out the iron. While waiting for it to heat up he stared fixedly at the iron wondering what it would feel like if he put the hot metal on his skin. He reached to the iron and let if hover over his skin for a while. He could feel the heat emanating from the iron. He thought about putting it on his skin and feeling the pain from the intense heat. He cleared his head of the thought and started ironing. He didn’t want to be late for work.  

 

   Work was no better for him. After having to deal with so many naggy customers he came to the conclusion that people were stupid. He thought about how so many times during the day he had wondered what it would be like to just act on his impulses. He would have been fired in the first two hours. At lunch time he talked to one of his coworkers that also had lunch at the same time.

   “See, people aren’t really free,” he said, “We all think we are but we’re really not. We’re bound by the rules of society to act in a certain way. We’re free within a limit.” His coworker nodded.

   “That makes sense,” she agreed.

   “Right? We’re not always free to do what we want. For example,” he said holding up a plastic knife, “If I wanted to stick this knife in your body and watch you die, I wouldn’t be able to because then I’d have a problem and be jailed. I’d lose my freedom for doing exactly what I want to do.”

   “Uh huh,” said his coworker, rising and leaving the room as quickly as she could. He stared after her, wondering what it would be like to stick a knife in her body. To just feel the blood oozing down his arm, all warm and moist. He picked up his sandwich and finished eating it.

 

   He walked down the corridor. The first person that came his way, he shot. He just pulled out his gun and shot them in the head. He stopped to admire the way that the brains just splattered out and hit the wall. He looked at the torn head, fascinated by the way that half of the head was no longer there.

   He walked into the office where his boss was. He walked up to him and just stabbed him in the stomach. He felt the warm blood ooze down his arm. He pulled the knife out and saw that a piece of some internal organ was stuck on there. He walked out leaving the man to die alone.

   He strode over to where he worked. His coworker was there finishing up some report. He snuck up behind her and felt his hands just wrapping around her neck. He felt her struggling. He squeezed harder. He felt the warmth of her body and the way that she struggled. He finally felt something snap and knew that her windpipe had been crushed. He felt her body go limp and he let go. He looked at her face, fascinated by the bulging eyes. He had always wondered what it would be like to die with your eyes open.

   He walked to the room next door and saw two people inside. Their eyes opened up in horror as they saw his bloodstained shirt. He went up to one and punched them in the nose at such an angle that the bones in there, went straight up into the brain. Within seconds they had fallen to the floor, dead. The other one tried running to the door. He tackled him and turned him over. He begin punching him in the face, over and over and over again. The blood splattered all over him but he didn’t stop until he felt the body go limp. He stopped to admire the unrecognizable face.

   A security guard walked in and tried to stop him. He pulled out his knife and stabbed the guard in both of the eyes, taking out the eyes. The guard screamed in agony while he examined the eyeballs that were now useless. Then, he pulled the gun out and just shot him. Then shot him again and again until the bullets ran out.

   He ran into the next room catching the people in there off guard. He punched on in the ribs hard enough for the ribs to penetrate the spleen and poison them to death. The other he slashed from his chest up with his knife. The last one he overpowered and threw out the window. He watched the body go flying out the window. He followed it, watching it flail and twist until it splattered on the cement, seven floors below. He saw everything go flying everywhere. He smiled.

 

   The sound of somebody entering shook him from his reverie. He stared at his empty lunch bag and threw it away. He drained the last bit of soda in his cup and threw that away. He went over to the sink and washed his hands. He then went back to the trashcan, fumbled around in there and pulled out the plastic knife he had thrown away. He held it up and looked at it, smiling. He looked at his coworker, eating, oblivious to everything. He smiled to himself and started walking toward the table.