The Murderer Prt.1

A medium length story. 3 Parts. This is Part 1.

 

They never tell it from the side of the murderer, well that is what I am. Do read on, if you’re not to horrified.

 

It was a disgustingly cold night as the sharp night air whipped across the scenery, tree leaves blowing through the air twisting and turning into the wind. The delightfully bare necks being caressed by soft strands of hair as I walk slowly through the gloomy dark streets of London. I look from unknown face to face and smile my sweet smile, only to the girl’s mind you, I have no interest in men, for many reasons. They struggle and put up a good fight, like a bull to his matador I do not need that trouble, they also do not arouse my awakening senses, unlike a petite female when the crimson dirty blood slips from the gaping wound, I find this highly delightful. The last few breathes as I stare deep into those evil eyes, filled with hate, anger and pain, longing to ask me why however I know, the smooth straight seemingly perfect cut across their throat allows them nothing but chokes and coughs. Their eyes tell it all, the story I long to read. From that one perfect day when I took her hand in mine, the soft silky caress of her skin as my pretty blue eyes danced along her body, my main focus her neck, however if I stare at that too much she will no doubt grow uneasy and leave. And I cannot allow that. Fore she is the one, the chosen girl, the next victim. Next? You say, yes next, fore there have been many, many girls fallen at the hands attached to my arms. I however unlike some killers, pick and choose my girl carefully, yes my girl, for once chosen I have the bond formed, the connection in my mind, only the sick and horrific things I wish to do to her unclean and un innocent body. She is mine, and no one elses. Fore when this is over, she will always be mine, my face imprinted, burnt into her retners, what more of a connection is there? The life, and the one who takes it.

 

My story begins with a girl of 18, her name is Sasha, and she is beautifully intoxicating, her luscious brown curls falling loosely over her shoulders and masking the soft pale silky skin of her body, visible to my eyes a few perfect small circular freckles planted along her shoulders, her small baby soft hairs standing to attention along her arms as she spots me sat in the corner of the coffee store staring at her, she smiles. Big mistake I think to myself as I smile back, its like an obsession to me that they lead me on, like I cannot help myself once the clogs are set in motion, I cannot love them in the way they wish me too, fore I am evil, and evil is my beauty. It flows within me coursing through my veins and when it has begun, it will end for her before she even knows it has started. My smile is sweet and all toothed, some have said perfect teeth behind bright ruby lips. She picks up her coffee and walks over to me at my table, she smiles a seductive smile and shows those pearly teeth, hoping to intruige me I know what she wants. I smile and tilt my head offering her that boyish grin and the positioning of my head allows her to think she has won, she has drawn me into her web of deceit and I am now hers. She would be wrong, I know she will feed me her poisonous lies hoping to encapture me into her sticky formation of sickly desires and spells. But she cant, because I have already captured her.

 

She takes her seat opposite me and offers her smooth pale hand, long crooked fingers in my mind yet another blind sight in my soulless eyes. I reach forward and take her hand, all the while my eyes on her neck, I can assume she thinks I am staring at the perfect shapely formation of her plump breasts pushing out of her top, I however am not. That would be rude of me would it not? Plus I have no interest in her female parts she flaunts to me like dancers naked on ice. I shake her hand in mine, strong but soft and she notices, I know she does from the responsiveness of her senses, her hand pulling back for that split second before she allows her fingers to wrap around my warm embrace. Our eyes meet for a second as we smile to one another, on my mind all the ways I will haunt and hate her for things she has no idea she has done, and in her mind, how charmingly different and sweet I seem to other men. I almost burst into an eruption of volcanic laughter at the mear thought I however hold back and mearly let a sweet smile form my lips as I knit my brow. Women are so foolish as to not think, I find it sickly yet oddly familiar.

 

“My name is James. It is a pleasure to meet you..” I let my voice trail off deliberately knowing she would follow on with her name, and probably a lot more.

 

“Hello James, I am Sasha. And I am..” She said, still speaking however my mind trails off as I watch her lips moving quickly then slowly, opening and closing, pursing together then stopping all together. Sasha..I think to myself. And thus it begins. I smile and pick up my coffee, taking the white ceramic cold mug to my lips and drinking slowly as I watch her eyes as she speaks, I am almost certain this girl is not used to a man listening to her as much as interrupting and pushing for sex. I however have no wish for sex, not yet. Then the words come that I hate hearing, as if they didn’t ask, I would not have to lie.

 

“So tell me about yourself James?” She asked, a sweet seductive smile across her lips. Waiting, hoping, wishing for me to be that man she has drempt of through childhood. I smile and look only to her, making her feel like the only person in the whole world I shrug politely and tilt my head back as though to think.

 

“There is little to tell Sasha, I am 21 and I come from the west side of London,” I smile and offer flatly,

“I work in a shop just on the corner of broad street, we sell old antique books and parchments.” I smile again and drink some more of my coffee watching her as she processes the bore of information I have slipped to her. She smiles and sips her own coffee as she watches me back, I smile again, keeping her entranced it would seem, I ask politely.

 

“Tell me some more about yourself Sasha, I find you much more interesting than myself.” I smile. It is all it takes and she is off chatting again, spitting stories to entrance and encapture my mind, to draw me in on the hook of her words and keep me forever in a web of deceit she forms. The web all women form. I quickly grow bored of her but I have chosen her not for her words, but for her beauty, from the responsiveness of that very first touch, it begins. She is mine already, only she doesn’t know it yet. She may wish it, she doesn’t know it. Love at first sight, what a cliché, this is not love, or lust, this is deception in the most brilliant form. The implantation in ones mind that something good may come out of a simple meeting, and who among men today does not take a chance? Well those that do not, I have yet to meet, to touch, to taste and to kill. Fore to me, they are the un-killable. You cannot kill someone, that never puts themselves in a position to be killed.

 

Well back to me, this isn’t going to be something good, this is going to be something horrific, something you cant even imagine, something even Hitchcock and edgar allan poe couldn’t fathom in their wildest nightmares, I like to take my time, be slow, even form relationships based on lies, why not? She’s going to die anyway, they all do..all of them.

Author's Note

all reviews welcome.