Views of a Murder

September 7, 2012 at 12:00 AM
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It is so dark in here, so dreadfully dark. I have come to hate this darkness for it comes much too frequently. My body is still, as if numbed. The motion I can sense, as I am being carried away, is quick paced and very rough. Where I am is unknown but I do know that I am surrounded by a wall of almost fabric like linings. My imprisoned state is position ever so close to this man’s heart. I can feel its sickly thumps as my bearer strides so vigorously. His breathe comes in impulsive, distorted inhales as he sucks for the God given right to stay alive. I pity him, for it is he who depends on me to do the task at hand. I have become a tool in giving reality to his twisted fantasies. I suppose we must rely on each other, for it is I who fulfills the wishes of the scandalous and he brings meaning and purpose to my creative design.

But now the moment has come, the moment I have relived time and time again in the hands of this cruel minded gentleman. His motion ceases but his heart rate increases. He reaches into his coat pocket and unsheathes me from my hiding place. Free from the burdens of my senseless cell I can now feel the sting of the cold night breeze. My metallic body gleams in the pale light of the overhead moon as it casts its undying rays upon the earthly neighbors below. All else maintains the pitch black that mortal men have come to fear, the uncertainty that waits behind the veil of their blinded eyes. Footsteps now echo down this lonely path, little does this person know, they have just entered a game of hide and go seek in which the loser meets a painful end. My cohort and I have fiendishly placed ourselves behind this unforgiving wall. It seems our victim has been deemed the unknowing seeker. The sound of this person’s presence draws more near to where my master stands who is still clutching me within his firm grasp.

Before I could even brace myself for impact, out sprang the villain with sinister precision of his killing blow. I met the fair lady’s soft and fleshy chest, I could tell it was a woman because of the shrill, feminine scream that managed to escape her tightening throat. My steel pointed end tore through her oh so easily. I merely slipped right in between her blockade of muscle, tissue and bone. All came to I stop. I could recognize where I was now. I was buried inside the now split open heart of the unlucky maiden. I could feel the frantic beats as blood attempted to flee the shattering impact I had made. Such a beautiful muscle, trying so hard to squeeze out every bit of life it could. I swear I can almost hear it praying to the heavens above before it stopped beating completely. When the deed was done and my purpose served, I was drawn back from her chest and I watched as blood spilled down her magnificent left breast.

Down she fell towards the ground, unable to live yet unable to die, caught between this world and the hell that awaited her. I did not know whether I should be in despair for her, seeing as now her fluids coat my razor’s edge. With a handkerchief I am wiped and stripped clean of her meaninglessly spewed insides. Back into the pocket I go and off we walk the murderer and me, the killer and his knife that have taken yet another worthless life.

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Views of a Murder, 6.2 out of 10 based on 100 ratings