Ten True Things About MeA Story by Saichiro Wolftotem Written for a contest I kill people.
It's not generally a thing nice persons will do, but I feel I have a real knack for it. It's easy when you have a face like mine. Easy to gain their trust. Easy to smile. Easy to beckon.
I have one of those faces that others find endearing.
I like to think of it as one of those little godsends that happens to be ironic from a religious point of view. If 'God' didn't want me to slaughter people and use my blood-slicked fingers to inspect their innards with joy then why would He give me such a talent paired with my chiseled jaw and baby blue eyes? Suspicionless eyes.
I never bring my 'work' home.
It would be like eating in the bathroom. Although it's the same action and supposedly nothing is different for it, the thought of killing in my immediate surroundings is...distasteful. I don't clean up like all of the fantasy cop shows tell you to either. I've never seen the point. I go in sterile, yes (I'm not stupid), but so long as the deed is far enough away from my home there is no need for disposing of my leavings.
The police have been looking for me for years.
This is not a point of attention, it is a FACT of hunger for human death. I don't advertise the way my less composed colleagues will. The police working their tedious reports on my various actions will never receive a note from me. Nor a hair. Nor a whisper of my inner workings. That would be true sloppiness, not the human detritus I leave behind me after the mirth has faded.
I grew up in a healthy home.
I never kicked the cat. My mother was happily married to my father until she died of cancer two years ago. My father still lives in another state, retired and being generally normal. I have had no head trauma. I wasn't raised near a chemical dump. There is no scientific explanation for why I have such wonderful society-damned cravings, but there they are. Work, commute, home, sleep, food...
My cravings are always right beneath the surface.
I keep them in check, but occasionally it is more than difficult. The irrate balding man at the checkout counter in front of me, yelling at the hapless clerk for something she has no power over and doesn't get paid enough to deal with. The cute flight attendant that would look so much better in several pieces over a larger area. The man who chose the urinal immediately to my right despite there being a multitude of others to choose from. I have a system. I keep to my system and it keeps me safe. Those people would never know how very close they came to their own mortality.
I would rather be taken apart myself than die quietly in my sleep.
I couldn't tell you why. It just seems fitting. Not justice, just ironic poetry. An ending as equally artful as all the endings I have caused. There have been dreams I've had about this, and after each I woke supremely content. I have never seen my dismantler, though, and the very probable thought that I may never find someone willing to fulfill my literal dying wish near the end disheartens me a bit.
I have had 68 'victims' in all.
I prefer not to call them victims. They do scream and beg and carryout all of the things a body is supposed to do to prevent itself from coming to an end, but I don't imagine myself as nefarious as to have 'victims'. I prefer to call them 'liberations'. I have fun taking apart the corpse while it is still warm of course, but really? Their pain is over. A small pin-prick's worth of pain, comparitively speaking, and then they don't feel anything. My liberations don't have to wither slowly under chemo-therapy or choke to death in that tragic boating accident. My liberations no longer feel tooth aches, stomach aches, or heart aches. They won't 'win' by outliving everyone they loved.
I am alone, but I am not lonely.
I live in a large city, in an apartment. By myself. I like the quiet as it helps me plot and plan. A lot of care goes into each kill and I take a lot of steps to ensure that each one is unique and special. This one gets to stew in a bathtub of their own blood. That one will get disassembled and reassembled a little different. Yet another strung up like beautiful holiday lights dripping crimson. I make sure they are all carefully considered. What the house looks like. Where the liberation goes during the night. I work houses with only one or two people in most cases. Across town from my apartment as I mentioned before and might I say...
Your lawn is lovely. © 2013 Saichiro WolftotemFeatured Review
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Saichiro WolftotemSan Antonio, TXAboutI'm a craftster and generally chronically bored person. I like entertainment of the non-screen-based variety. more..Writing
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