Dear Jack

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 19, 2018

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Submitted: August 19, 2018



-Dear Jack-

It’s been a while since we last spoke my old friend, and I’m sorry to say that this time perhaps will be the last. You’ve told me much of your life, but I’ve never told you much of mine. My life has been solely dedicated to my job, and I'm quite good at my job; Indeed quite good. For years I have eluded capture from the hands of the law and detection from society as a whole. Yes, they see me as no threat, as if I was one of them. It warms my little black heart when they praise my humanity, makes the pain sting all the more when I slice through their flesh with sharpened  steel. Yes indeed do I enjoy my job, that of a hunter.

Countless have fallen to my hands, I started quite young if you'd believe, at the mere age of six. The one who raised me was my first, or perhaps it was neighbors’ boy who called me friend? Bah, either way, I distinctly remember at least how the job was done, how the acid corroded the inner lining of their throat leaving them unable to breathe, unable to fight back. Only guttural bubbles escaped their lips as opposed to pleas of help they could utter as I bashed their head in with a shovel, and I suppose that was for the best. I had not the experience I do now; not known when the proper time to strike was. If they had made any truly audible noise, I surely would've been stopped before I could ever truly begin. Ah but now; now I am quite unstoppable. In truth, recent times had grown wearisome. I felt not the rush that I had once did. Not even the innocent cries of children could placate my boredom.

Though I discovered something new. I was recently invited to a mountain resort party by a few of my colleagues at the time. It was supposed to be an event of sharing ideas with other members of various academic facilities in the debate circles I once told you about, but in actuality it seemed to be just an excuse to partake in senseless debauchery. I wasn't even in the mood to work much less socialize with those philistines and made up my mind to leave as soon as I had arrived, but that had all changed when ‘He’ walked into the door. He was one of the few guests that did not regularly partake in these events, I would know as I have memorized all of the regulars and their addressest. He was vibrant and beautiful, almost angelic, and I knew at that moment he had to be mine. I had no reason to feel this way, as before I had at least the barest of inkling of why I picked my marks, but instinctively I felt myself pulled to him.

At first he was very uncommunicative when I had approached, but like all others he soon fell to my charms. He told me his name was Alois, and he had just moved into town below from the resort as he was studying abroad, and indeed his snowlike complexion and natural platinum hair did separate him from many of the locals. But there was something off about him that I couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was the constant slight twitch in the corner of his right eye, or how he never fully extended either of his ring fingers, keeping them tightly clenched against his hands. His mannerisms made it seem as if he wasn’t quite comfortable in his own body. I chalked it up to simple tics of at first, but it wasn't until he remained completely sober to the sedative I had snuck into his drink when I became suspicious of his character. I had done this many times, believe me, so I knew I hadn't failed to get him to ingest the chemical, nor had I given him an improper dosage. Indeed I had gone beyond and given him enough that would put a linebacker to his knees, and yet this frail dainty figure had taken it with no results. My curiosity of this strange person was growing ever stronger, and I knew that I had to be the one that would pluck the life from his body. As the night wore on, I managed to separate him from the rest, and with a little prodding convinced him to follow me into a more secluded portion of the house. I brought this little angel into the musty basement where a singular window was the only source of illumination. It was there that I had made my move. I thrust the knife I carried into the side of his neck, carefully slicing the carotid artery, all the while gagging his mouth with a thick cloth to prevent speech that could cause the others above to investigate. Masterfully, I dug the knife into the vital areas located at his back, to ensure that there was no chance he would survive. What astounded me was the pearly white substance excreted from his wounds that had begun to cake my jacket.

I had planned to dump the body into the woods and let the wolves deal with it, but this discovery could not go unresolved. So silently I stashed the body into the trunk of my car, carefully enough to not rouse suspicion of the other inhabitants of the party, and left to my abode. Days I spent carving that body open and apart, missing not a single spot from his head to his toes. Remarkably, despite my ill care of the body, it had never rotted. In fact it had seemed as if the flies and maggots were deathly afraid of the corpse and made a conscious effort to not approach it. Now underneath the skin of this boy lied no human, but something entirely alien. I can seldom begin to describe what exactly the thing was, but it appeared as if the entire body was devoid of any organic material that my past subjects had been filled with. Indeed, it appeared that underneath the fleshy exterior there was nothing but a gelatinous blue mass with white veins coursing through the material. I had done many of my own experiments with the material; burned it, froze it, submerged it in water, and even consumed a small sample, but my expertise lies not in the fields of science. I sent a sample to an old professor I had one once known, and left my investigation at that. I had no longer cared about what it was, but rather I wanted to know how to find more of its ilk. That kill changed me, evolved me to a higher form if you will. I knew I could not be satiated by the humans I had once stalked. Frankly, I had become addicted.

That is why I tell all of this to you my old friend. No longer do I hold caution for the law, nor for the society I was apart of. Humanity as a whole is much to far behind me now that I have witnessed such a thing. I cannot shake the feeling that I’ll not be returning from this new hunt. In truth, I am quite afraid of what this path shall lead to. There is even a part of me that believes that these urges of mine are guided by an unseen hand. But these are mere butterflies in my stomach and I am quite anxious to be rid of them. So I bid you adieu, and hope that perhaps someday we can meet again.

Warm Regards

Jeffrey Holmes


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