The days pass as I imagine fantasy after fantasy. My thoughts twisting and turning as I slowly start to become restless. I often wonder where this amazement and excitement come from as I breathe harder. The panting becomes almost unbearable. I must act now.
My eyes dart place to place and face to face. I constantly search for the perfect victim. I drive my busted up 1983 truck, that coughs up black smog into the air, into a parking lot. A Polaroid camera was my first instrument I came into contact with. “Sometime to remember us by”, I hear in my head as I glance at the camera.
No. No. No. no…. Yes.
Brunette hair, rosy cheeks, and the most heartfelt smile you could imagine. Yes.
In this small town you never really have any worries. Everyone knows everyone and things are mostly dull. The fresh breeze of spring fills the nostrils of the town. An exceptionally bright and happy day that most people would try to enjoy by spending the day at the park. I do the same because I was never allowed outside. It took too long to get used to the sun but now it feels like opportunity.
Laughing and yelling fills the ears of everyone at play, including me. It’s like unorchestrated music that sounds out of tune but not in the way you’d think. To me, it sounds like notes being played at the wrong time but I can still make something out of it. I can hear what can be and it drives me insane.
I brush my legs more and more as I get antsy.
Any moment now.
Because of how tight knit this community is, you can simply let your kid go to the park without supervision. It’s almost like it was made to be a lesson to those who can’t manage a child more than they can manage their own mental state. Not my fault. It’s my duty in fact.
She walks away from the park after a tiresome day to maybe return home for a snack or water but it’s too late now.
She moves, I move.
A flowy white dress with yellow daisies on it.
I choke on my breath. I almost forgot what I was doing. I guess it is about that time. I check if anyone is watching.
Nope.
I get my chloroform and I drive right beside her.
“Where are you parents at?” I try to ask nonchalantly
“They at home” she responds after being startled.
“Is it a long walk? Cause I can take you there if you want.
She thinks for a moment
“Umm I-I-I guess”
“Hop in” I say as I open my passenger door for her
As soon as she steps in I grab her head and I put the towel over her mouth. Her screaming shrieks are masked by the thick clothe and just as quickly it started, it stops.
Time to go home.
I drive with a devilish grin on my face, knowing this was the hardest part.
Chains, gags, and rope. My partial instruments of my experimental art. Some don’t understand an artist or their expression so much to an extent that they’d call the cops for such a scene. But I bask in it.
Needles and syringes. They are filled with fun and love. This will replace their parents and their will to live. They will beg for more but I must withhold.
And finally, the Polaroid. The final instrument that I may need in order to complete the art. Because you need something to remember your time by. Otherwise you’ll forget who your victims even were. Just bones senselessly scattered.
The room that was once filled with things that no longer are needed is now my place of happiness. Four walls and no windows. Concrete, rust, and blood are what make of these walls.
“Helter skelter” the bloody writings on the wall.
I find myself lost gazing at the prior pictures and I hear faint crying and yelling. Time for the first dose. Her body goes limp as her pupil dilate.
“That’ll keep her quiet”
I look into her eyes and they look just like bullet holes. They remind me of my father’s gun and all the holes he left in my door in his bouts of anger and blind rage.
The lifeless look on her face made her look like a zombie. So dead but alive. Inches from dead and pretty. This is true beauty at its finest but we need a garish of sorts. I walk up the wooden and rotted stairs to the first floor and I walk outside. I survey the area and find the most gorgeous petunia I could squander.
I go back to the basement where my lovely lady waits for me and I put the flower in her hair. I take a photo and I put it in the album book.
Her pasty skin glows in the moonlight as her bones accentuate.
“Finally, true beauty”
I lay in bed at night and I hear the angels crying in heaven but at least I can also feel the devil smile. My grin almost as sinister as his. If I listen hard enough I can even hear the most haunting melodies sung by him.
I hear her scream start up again as I open my eyes with anger. I take my punishment stick and I go down.
“Moonlight has come and gone, but you haven’t learned a thing at all”
I let the ecstasy take me over as my fantasy comes to life as she slowly starts to lose hers but she isn’t getting off that easy. All the little pigs will die tonight. She nods into unconscious and I throw freezing cold water at her. She silently weeps as she coldly accepts her fate.
“Don’t let me catch you sleeping again”
“You’re only alive because I like you”
Her alive yet lifeless body makes me so warm and sickly sweet inside. I don’t think I can ever stop. I know she’s having so much fun. They always do.
(This is a story based on a song that haunts me to this day and manifested into this terrible story. I promise I’m not weird. If you can guess the song I’ll give you a cookie.)