Shriek of the Headsman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Revenge is a dish served dead cold.

Submitted: October 19, 2016

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Submitted: October 19, 2016



Donald woke up in a cold sweat. He had the feeling again. He called it the “bothersomeness”. The sheets were soaking wet and he had a painful erection. It felt as if there were hornets in his head. The old man lumbered out of the bedroom and down the hall.

After gazing into his hollow reflection in the bathroom mirror, Donald went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of cheap whiskey. He shivered as it went down, the warm feeling in his stomach spread throughout his body, giving him the confidence he needed to work. The shaking subsided, and the hornets in his skull settled down a bit. He took a large swig from the bottle and contemplated what he was about to do. It was time to go for a drive. The horrible shrieking of The Headsman was echoing through his brain.

It was easy to quiet The Headsman’s voice in the beginning. A dirty movie or magazine did the trick. The relief was quick, and the shouting voice was stifled. After years of this torment, however, the shrieking was not easily appeased. Donald needed more to quiet the screams. First, it was a small cat. He slit its throat while pleasuring himself. The voices stayed away for a week. It progressed at a geometric rate, and before he knew it, little girls filled the void. He lost count at eleven.

He used to hate the killings. The blood made him sick, and the way the girls looked after he cut them was appalling. Donald despised the way their lifeless eyes stared back at him. The stink of their urine and tears mixed with the cheap perfume made the old man irate. The Headsman hated those bitches too.

It was different now. Donald liked to kill.

After another sip of venom, The Headsman’s game begun. Donald walked to his garage and savored the moment. He enjoyed the sights and smells of his surroundings. All senses were heightened in this predatory state. After opening the door to the Buick, he settled into the seat. So many whores took their last ride in this chariot of pain. It was almost an extension of himself. The car had no passenger seat and dark tinted windows.

Donald felt like he was going to explode, thirsting for his sweet release. All the while, The Headsman was bellowing black words into his brain. As he drove, sweat was beading on his forehead. The radio was telling him the news, but the words were jumbled. The stifling heat of the car was maddening. A solitary fly was buzzing about, landing on his sweaty neck, lapping up his sweet nectar. The Headsman was screaming.
After circling the strip mall for the third time, he spotted her.

It was a young girl, maybe twenty years old, obviously angry at her car for not starting. She had the hood open and was shaking her head.  Donald would help. The old man parked his car next to hers.

“Nice day,” Donald said.

“Well, it was...” The girl looked down at the engine.

“Pleased to meet you, little lady. My name is Richard.” It was dangerous to give his real name.

“Hello. I’m Allison.”

Donald smiled. “Let me take a look. It might be a loose battery cable. I have some tools in my car. Hold tight.” The girl looked relieved and at ease. His old man routine always worked. Everybody lets their guard down around grandpa. Donald looked around and saw his chance. With a quick swipe, the old man cracked Allison on the back of her head with a tire iron.

He felt the excitement creep up his spine. Another pretty prize… all mine. The trickle of blood from the young girls head made the old man jump with joy. He walked to his car and drove it over to his catch. She was lying in the fetal position, moaning. Donald dragged the girl to the passenger side and threw her in.

Time to play.

After a short drive, the old man pulled into his driveway. He pressed the garage door opener, and slowly drove in. Donald glanced down at his prize and grinned. “So much fun we will have, Allison. So much fun.” Donald dragged the whimpering girl into his house and threw her down on his bed.
He tied her arms to the bed post and scurried to the kitchen for his tools.

When he came back, he was startled by the girl’s demeanor. She was wide awake and smiling.

“Hello, Donald.” The young girl hissed. The old man dropped his knives and backed against the wall. Allison’s eyes rolled back and started to shake all over. “So much fun we will have.” The girl shrieked. Black blood poured from her mouth and dark blue veins began to rise all over her face.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? I am all yours...”

A wet gurgle filled the room as Allison evacuated her bowels. Donald stared in disbelief as he watched his prize break free of the shackles. Feces and blood splattered on the floor as the smiling abomination lumbered towards the old man. She licked her lips and tilted her head to one side.

“What’s the matter, Donald? I thought you were going to kill me…”

Allison picked up one of the knives. She looked at it and smiled. “Was this for me?” A wide-eyed Donald nodded. The demon girl plunged the knife into her own stomach. As she slowly pulled it out, a trickle of maggots fell out of the wound. The old man fell to the floor, clutching his chest. “Please…please…” he whimpered. Tears streamed down his face, knowing he was about to die. The twisted monstrosity hovered over him, dripping vile fluids on his face as she cackled maniacally.

Donald gave up his last breath and convulsed for a few seconds. 

The Headsman was silenced.


© Copyright 2018 Christof McTarnahan . All rights reserved.

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