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JON-A Day in the life of a Serial Killer Chapter 3. HEADACHES

Short story By: jon bladez
Horror


Chapter 3. HEADACHES


Submitted:Apr 29, 2013    Reads: 16    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


Chapter 3. Headaches


Once again, the peculiar shrill of a blackbird causes me to awaken, along with the lone hoot from an old barn owl. Still lying in the woods, I look down at my watch and realize it's almost midnight, and struggle to get to my feet. My head is killing me. The deep throbbing temporarily blurs my vision, but as I retain my focus, I spot a single blackbird perched atop my latest victims head. His dirty black claws cling to her mangled hair and skull, all the while pecking and eating his way inside of her, by way of her eye sockets and now open nose cavity. He cackles into the moonlight and flutters off as I walk past him, but not before devouring one last piece of flesh he happened to tear free from her before being startled. I walk onto the road and look down it both ways, while wondering what the fuck I was going to do, when the sound of a rusty screen door slamming shut slaps me with the answer. I hear a deep congested cough, coming from what sounds like a man dying from lung cancer, and carefully make my way towards him. As I creep down the edge of the road, I can make out what seems to be a gas lamp flickering in the wind, illuminating an old man and what appears to be his decrepit canine companion. I hear the crackle of a wooden match and watch as he attempts to light his pipe, puffing up clouds of grey translucent smoke that mimic fairies dancing in the moonlight. I hear him cough up some more phlegm, as well as his trusty old companions' half ass yelp to whatever he sensed off in the distance. I think if I just waited here, he'd probably die within the hour, which causes me to chuckle slightly alerting the both of them to my presence. "Who's there!?" he called out, squinting his eyes to get a better look at me as I slowly walked into clear view of the both of them, causing his dog to growl uneasily. I can see now that he is in his late seventies, possibly even eighties, and the sun over the years had weathered his skin like an old cow's hide you'd find on a typical Midwestern ranch. His dog appeared to be some type of aging mutt, perhaps a chocolate lab shepherd mix of some sort, which by the way kept eyeing my every move towards his curious master. "Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could use your phone to call a tow truck? I've stalled on the highway, and just my luck, my cell phone just died." He looks at me suspiciously, probably wondering how I happened to get so dirty by simply walking down a road, but I don't hesitate to set his mind at ease to how that is. I ball my fist up and punch him as hard as I can on the side of his head, sending him and the lamp crashing to the ground, the lamp exploding on impact around him. His dog begins to growl and nip at my pants legs, barking ferociously as he attempts to stop me from strangling his faithful companion. Suddenly the old man begins to wail and claw at me, struggling to break free from my suffocating grasp, struggling to break himself free from the hands of death. I laugh at him and continue to squeeze even harder, looking deep into his tear filled eyes, trying to imagine the horrors that he sees looking back at him through these cold heartless eyes. His dog yelps at the swift smack I send across his nose, barking viciously once again before backing away, keeping his distance from the nightmare that was quickly unfolding before him. I can feel the old man's pulse start to race and his skin get hot, subtle beads of sweat now forming across both of our foreheads, dripping occasionally along his face. He is just about dead as his legs have begun squirming and kicking, the violent jerking motions of his body suffering from extreme lacks of oxygen, before death actually occurs. I release my grip on his neck and drive my elbow down hard onto his Adams apple, feeling his windpipes being crushed due to the weight of me, causing him to spit up blood in my face. I feel the warm essence of him splash across my face and mouth, as I lick any remnants of blood that happened to caress my lips, before grabbing the lamp and smashing his head in with it. It is still on fire as I drive it into his face, causing him to cry out in agonizing pain at the glowing shards of broken glass, the trickling flames singeing what hair he had left on his balding head. I stand up and look down at him, well what's left of him anyways, and realize the longer I watch him writhe in pain, the better my head is starting to feel. That once deep throbbing pain I had has ceased to exist, with every drop of his blood and outcry of his pain; I'm starting to feel great. I wonder if the headaches are actually just my dark side trying to get out, trying to help me relieve myself of my own pain, while freeing me from the bondages of modern society. I look down at him and start to think to myself, "I won't live by your rules anymore. I've decided that I don't care about life enough to give two shits about mine, so I sure as hell don't give a fuck about yours. I am here to bring judgment to those that stand in my path, and I will stop at nothing to keep the pain in my head away, even if it means causing a few headaches of my own." I snatch up the old man's tobacco pipe that was now smoldering on the ground beside him, puffing on it deeply a few times, before exhaling my own little grey fairies into the crisp midnight air. I turn and head towards the front door of the house, whistling for the dog to follow behind, wondering if he would actually listen to me at all. I turned to look at him, watching as he sniffed at his dead master's feet, before rolling up into a ball and lying beside them. I swing open the screen door and see an old recliner, making my way to it quickly and slump down inside of it. I can feel my eyes getting heavy, as I let myself drift off into a much needed rest, hoping I can sleep through the night, sleep through the pain.





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