“GFD: Bloodstained Duet”
There are times when I simply can’t help myself…
When there is an insatiable lust for the rush involved. When the thrill of the act itself is so overpowering that I feel as though I won’t ever be able to escape it. Times like now.
I can feel my sense of self control circling the drain again…like the fading glow of a dimly lit star, being pulled into the limitless void of a black hole…never to be seen again.
It’s a thirst for blood. To feel the warmth of it as it washes over you. To taste it on my tongue. Bitter. Tangy. But more than that, it’s the sight of seeing someone’s life spilling out at my feet that truly excites me this way.
My blade sinks deep. Soooo very deep. The human body is so fragile. I love the feeling of piercing the flesh. The stabbing. The ripping. Something about it gives me such an orgasmic release when the victim has been properly chosen.
I can’t tell you where I went wrong. I can’t even speculate on what turns an average man into the vile and disgusting monstrosity that I have become. But I’m here. I exist. Behind every lonely corner. Within every dark alley…
…I am that shadowed figure in the mist. I am that devil, manifested in flesh. I am the reason that the most gruesome of urban legends are spread from generation to generation with the chill of unbiased truth. And while there may still be some sense of humanity left deep within me…I can’t stop killing. I won’t.
I’m only human after all.
The year is 1976, and the Spring weather is being celebrated by those who had been cursing the blizzard that repeatedly blanketed the city streets in knee deep snow over the past few months. I like the weather when it’s in transition. The air is damp. Thick. I can feel its heated texture with every breath. I can feel the moisture on the surface of my skin. It can be exhilarating. It’s a time when people begin to let their guard down. Their bodies…their emotions…they begin to morph into something more appropriate for the new season. It’s an ancient animal instinct. One that tells us when to migrate, when to mate, when to gather, when to hibernate…in the deepest, darkest, primal, parts of our existence…that evolutionary programming still controls us on some subliminal level. Most people hardly ever pay attention to it. But I do. I know it’s there. I can sense it. I’m a predator…
…These are the signals that tell me when to hunt.
The girl’s name was Ginger. I had been watching her for over three weeks now. She works the night shift at a local diner on the outskirts of the downtown area, and has a ten minute walk to get to her bus stop before heading the rest of the way home on foot. I had been closely studying her routine…as I have done many times before with the others. I watched her come, I watched her go, I learned her patterns.
The obsession can take me over so quickly sometimes. I took Polaroid pictures of Ginger through the diner window. Watching her bring food and clear tables. Something about her caused my breathing to become short and desperate. The thrill was like nothing that I have felt before.
Her hair was blond. So blond. When sweeping against the smoothness of her pale white skin…it was like DaVinci painting a blank canvas with splashes of gold. Such a pretty pretty girl. Such an untouched piece of fine art. I felt as though I had to add my personal touch to this exquisite masterpiece. I had to become a part of her perfection. It was my duty to preserve this beauty as it was. Right here…right now…before it becomes tainted by the horrors of this world.
Stay beautiful, my angel. She must remain beautiful…
Normally, I would study my victims for a week or two longer. But I was already beginning to wrestle with the shame of what I had planned to do to her. I wanted to complete the act before it was too late. Serial murder…it’s a lot like composing music, or writing stanzas of fine poetic verse. Meant to be done with respect, and with passion…but in the moment, while your muse was strong. The beauty of its creation is everlasting in your mind. But you MUST complete your work once your vision has been realized. It is not to be left to linger on beyond the peak of your muse’s interest. I had to finish it. She excited me. Ohhhhh…she excited me soooo very much. I could hardly contain myself. I have to do it. I have to do it soon. The killer within simply won’t leave me alone.
I waited, impatiently, that night for her shift to end. Always at 1 AM. And yet she never left a table behind. A quality that I respected. I think it was her sweet nature and good heart that made my temperature rise more than anything else. She deserves to be among other angels. And it is my job to send her there. I became erect with giddy anticipation…but I had to have patience.
It’s almost time. Stay calm. Cherish these moments. The stillness before the storm. They are almost as intense as the final act itself.
I turned the knob on my radio dial. WGFD was currently playing ′Why Can’t We Be Friends?′ By War. I decided to light up a cigarette while I waited, tapping the steering wheel in the meanwhile.
So beautiful. I can hardly remember blinking as I watched her. The music, creating a soundtrack for her every graceful movement.
I felt myself rocking back and forth impatiently. It was 1:03 AM now. I wanted her to leave. She needed to leave the building. This feeling was too unbearable for me.
I opened the glove compartment of my car, and retrieved the six inch collapsible blade that I kept within. I stared at it, the glimmer of the blade shining into my eyes. A black and white ski mask laying over my left thigh.
The mask was important. Not just for safety’s sake…but to take my own identity out of the equation. To think clearly. This wasn’t about me. This was about her. This was about preserving her purity. I could be anybody. Everybody. And nobody at all. That part of the act was essential to me. It gave the murderous act a certain meaning.
Her skin was so fair. So soft. I fell in love with the very vision of her. It was like I could smell her through my Cadillac window. Ohhh…dear, sweet, God. To be able to viciously carve my turbulent emotions into her flesh would be such an honor for me. One that is sure to bring me to the very edge of sexual release. I can’t wait any longer. Please hurry, Ginger. Our fate awaits us. And soon, both you and I will become immortal in the eyes of our shocked spectators. Did you know that, Ginger? Immortality is waiting for you. And it all begins with a single cut…adding a remarkable splash of crimson to that beautiful, untouched, golden palette.
It was then that I heard a firm knock at my passenger door window. It startled me at first, as I hadn’t seen anyone approach the car. Not even in the rearview mirror.
When I turned to see who was bothering me, I saw a boy, about 17 years old from the looks of him…with long brown hair hanging down to his shoulders, a slim build, and a slightly cocksure, David Cassidy-like, grin on his face. With just the hint of a dark peach fuzz mustache on his upper lip. He was dressed all in black. Black bu