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Crispy Killer

Short story By: Xion
Fantasy



A short story I thought of, enjoy.


Submitted:Mar 25, 2013    Reads: 41    Comments: 2    Likes: 1   


Crispy Killer

I laid in the warm summer sun, my belly flat on the ground as I lay outstretched on the warm brown sand. My eyes slowly opened to the sound of splashing. I gazed out at my wonderful home. A clear lake surrounded by a small forest on one side, the other was a swimming area for the people of the town of Crisp. The water of Crispy Lake is clear and peaceful, under the water is a different story. What is not seen is the tall weeds that grow on the bottom of the lake, hidding any signs of a killer. I felt my stomach growl from hunger. I slid along the sand into the cool water, as I decended into the water I could feel the floor of the water grow warmer. A craving filled my senses. My usual serving of fish would not satisfy this hunger. No. Something else would have to satisfy this. I already had something in mind, or shall I say someone. You see my home is also the same place were people have mysteriously disappeared. No one knows who or what has been taking swimmers, which I find as a good thought. I felt my lungs lighten, I needed to surface before I drown. My eyes barely moved the surface of the water as I scanned the swimming area. People of all different ages swam in the warm water, most in small groups but several swam alone. Did I crave the well done flesh of an adult or the tender, soft flesh of a child? I don't think I have the stomach for an adult right now. I scanned the water for a child. My eyes stopped on one, she had soft rossy cheeks with long blonde hair that fell to her shoulders. She swam just at the edge of the water, swimming on her belly in the shallow water. Her mother read a book just several feet away, her eyes fixed on the book. Perfect. I sucked in a lung full of air then decended into the water, my movements silent in the water. I could feel the young girl's heart through the water. I glided through the water, getting ever closer to my next meal. I stopped only a few feet from her and waited for the right moment. She swam sideways along the bank, I waited until she turned before I spang forward. I grabbed her by the leg then turned and decended back into the deep waters. I felt her kicks hit my sides as she struggled to surface to breath. The taste of blood surrounded the water around me as I continued to decend. The echoes of her mother's screams vibrated through the water as she desperately searched for her daughter, but she would never see her again. I held her at the bottom of the lake until her kicking stopped, and her thrashing silenced. Her dead eyes could only remained fixed on the surface above her, never would she awake from her nightmare. I took my time as I tore her limbs from her dead body and slowly began to devorer her. Her flesh was soft and quite easy to break apart. It tasted so good. The blood that filled the water, the small chunks of flesh that floated away, never to be seen again. Once done my stomach growled with satasfaction. A smile formed across my face as I again surfaced. Yes, my stomach was full but my hunger for death was not. I saw several of the people exit the water as they frantically helped the mother search for the lost child. I smiled as I swam toward the people still swimming in the water. I took yet another unweary person, an adult this time, grabbing the man by the torso then decended back into the depths. The man drown quite quickly. I munched on his body for several minutes before surfacing yet again, leaving the rest of the body for the fish to eat. I could see several police cars along the bank, obviously here to search for the lost girl. I knew I would be caught if I remained in the water so I began swimming to the otherside of the lake, to the dense forest that I knew would not be searched. Not yet at least. I pulled my full body up onto the bank, my body became well hidden by the vegitation of the forest. A smile enveloped my face as I remembered how many I had killed this week. Nine. A new record for the most killed in a week. For more than ten years I have been considered the Crispy Killer. People would disappear never to be seen again. Rarely would someone been found, but nothing would point to me. Most of my victims were tourists therefore not know to be missing. I smiled once again. I have killed so many, none with remorse. Why should I feel remorse? I would sometimes listen to them talk at the water's edge about me, talking about how I must be a homeless psycopath that could easily survive on or around the lake. Killing people while they were alone or killing groups. No remorse. A true psycopath that gorges on the blood of the innocent. I laugh at them. They will never catch me. Even though I honestly don't know what I am, I know I was born to kill. There is not a doubt in my mind that I was born to kill. Yes. Yes. They would never catch me. They were looking for the wrong person. My senses raised as I gazed out at a large metal thing floating out on the lake. It looked quite similar to a fishing boat, but never has a fishing boat been seen on this lake. The fish were to smart to be caught by any fisherman. I quickly entered the water for a closer look, hoping in the back of my mind that I would again get to kill. I floated along the surface, floating along side the metal. I could hear people on the metal moving around. My eyes stared at a large stick that pointed directly at me. I heard a loud bang, then everything went black. My mind flashed to those I had killed. Those I had drown, eaten, and killed. Thier limbs ripped from their bodies, blood drained from their bodies. Not very many were found, even more would never be found. I could feel my mind drift into darkness.

The startling news finally reached the ears of the new station, the body of the Crispy Killer was being examined. They found the body the missing girl half digested in his stomach, and they were afraid that was all they were going to find. The Crispy Killer was not what they expected. A twenty seven foot male crocodile that averaged more than a ton. A picture was taken of the crocodile and the men who shot him. In the picture they stood behind his extended body on the banks of Crispy Lake, the police officer who took the shot held the croc's enoumous mouth open as he posed for the picture. But the killing would not end with the croc. A few weeks after the picture was taken another three people mysteriously disappeared. The killing will continue. The lake changes those around it in order to fill its constant need for blood.

He gazed out from the water. Waiting. Waiting for more to come. The lake hungered.





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