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| User | Post |
| Squire Vince Posts: 23/1586 |
Phoenix: Yes I do believe so. I had Josh edit it.
Elara: I will revise it and I may post another edited version. |
| Phoenixocracy Posts: 584/2746 |
Are you using this in our collaboration? I haven't heard mention of that for a couple months.
But yeah, Vince and I have an uncanny obsession with serial killers and superheroes. I agree with Elara, though. Work on time, and make it flow more. Is this edited from the last time I read it? |
| Elara Posts: 5691/9734 |
Oh, what is this collaboration?
You could expand a bit on the passing of time during the day and have it still be a short story. It has a lot of strong parts in it, and if you just do a bit of tweaking on the beginning I think it would become a lot stronger as a whole. Honestly, the ending reminds me a bit of Stitch's work. |
| Squire Vince Posts: 17/1586 |
It's just a short story for a collaboration I'm working on. |
| Elara Posts: 5683/9734 |
I will clean up the other threads and title when I can log in again.
Seems interesting but really fast-paced. I think you could have done a lot more with it, and that if you get around to it you could expand it into something truly awesome. |
| Squire Vince Posts: 15/1586 |
No one is who we think they are. In my line of work I come in contact with every sort of person; whether they are black or white, poor or rich, man or woman. They're all the same when they come to me; no one is different. They all bleed red and they all taste like chicken, if you broil them right. I'm not a picky eater; it's whoever I'm hungry for at the time, and I just can't be stopped when I get those killer cravings.
It's Saturday, April 3rd. I am sitting at a desk in an uncomfortable suit and tie. I feel like I'm slowly being strangled, which would be preferable. My fate is far worse; a sexual harassment seminar. Shoot me. I have never harassed anyone long enough for them to feel a seminar would help. I don't want people like this. Sex seems meaningless to me. I get all of the satisfaction I need from fulfilling my cravings. To my left there is a man; his name is Jason. Jason is our new temp; God I love temps. They have become the equivalent of fast food for me. No one cares when they don't show up; we just order a new one from the agency. Jason is a tall skinny man with blonde hair and sharp features. I wonder if I could feel love, could I love him? I’m not sure; I don't think my mind would let me be gay. I have made up my mind though, Jason McAndrews, you are my dinner. I break into the office files and take his from the large green filing cabinet, which I like to call “The Menu”. It’s a personal joke that no one but me understands. I take his file; the first step. No point in reading it again, I only take it to prevent too much evidence from being leaked. The police already have a name for me, The Clarksville Cannibal. Actually, I've only eaten three people from Clarksville, most of them are from Canturburg, but far be it from me to correct them. I go to the break room to grab a candy bar from the broken machine to hold me over until tonight. As I walk into the room I see Trisha. She was the one on the list before Jason. A beautiful woman, I'm sure that if I could love I'd love her. She says “Hi” and I give a subtle nod and adjust my glasses. She asks me to sit and eat with her, I really hope she isn't flirting. I take my candy from the machine and sit opposite her at the table. She tries small talk: "Where are you from? How old are you?" My beeper goes off just on time. Thank God for small miracles. I walk back to my cubicle and look up Jason's house. He lives in a crappy apartment on the bad side of town. Excellent. I leave work early and drive to Jason's toilet bowl of a home. He lives in the cesspool of criminals and scum. He'll go undetected for days, maybe weeks. I almost kill myself when I trip over his damn dog. I hate animals, but the feeling is usually mutual. I scoop up the little pest and lock him in the bedroom. Then I go to the bathroom and take off my clothes. I can't get his blood on them. That is a bit of experience; my first kill left me soaked in blood. I go to his kitchen and take his carving knife from the block and wait for him. Patience is the key at this point. I hear the sound of his whiny car as he pulls into the parking lot. I hear him as he approaches the door, he opens the lock and the door swings wide open. I hide behind the door and wait for him to close it. He has his iPod on and he doesn't even open his eyes to close the door. I walk over to him. I stand behind him for a good three minutes waiting for a quick opening. Then it happens as fast as lightning. The knife goes straight in between a few vertebrae causing a quick paralysis. I drag him to the tub and undress him. Then I lean him over the bathtub and give his neck a swift cut. He bleeds out in only minutes. Then the fun begins. First I cut off his left index finger; my little trophy. In the next two hours I dismember and eat Jason, saving only the bones, hair, nails, and a few scraps for the dog. He tastes amazing, and then the craving is gone. It'll be back in a month or two but the feeling of satisfaction is reviving. I wonder if anyone at work notices how happy I am the days after I eat. I should ask Trisha what she thinks. As I pass the superintendent’s room I leave about a thousand dollars in cash, labeled rent in a blank envelope. That should keep me covered for at least few weeks. It's a Monday, any old Monday, and the craving has come back. I knew it would, and I'm ready for it. Today's entrees are young Asian toes followed by a nice torso cooked over a flame, and to end it a nice cheek salad with delightful vinaigrette. Delicious. Then again it always is, always delicious. Everyone is unique in their own way. You all taste the same to me. |
