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

This is a story about Rick, the serial killer psychopath, as told by Rick himself. There is a lot of gore.

Submitted: August 22, 2018

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Submitted: August 22, 2018



I should preface this by saying that I have nothing against males. It’s not their fault they are so revolting. The way they strut around campus and call out to each other using vulgar language. I blame the parents. Mine took precautions when teaching me etiquette, such as the time told method of a ruler across your knuckles. I quite liked that punishment. It gave me a chance to practice crying. Nonetheless they should have learnt to control it by now. I duck just in time as a disc flies over my head. I look around to find the owner and spot Eric laughing hysterically with his herd of imbeciles. Pathetic. I scowled, shoving my hands into my pocket as I stomped away through the mud and leaves. As I’m about to enter the library I hear rapid footsteps behind me and someone say my name.

“Rick! Wait up!” I turn to see Julie running up the steps toward me. Sighing, I wait for her, then open the heavy wood doors. “Was Eric giving you crap again? I don’t understand why he hates you so much! It’s not like you killed his dog or anything!” Yes I did. “He’s just an idiot, Rick, don’t pay him any mind. I’m sure he’ll grow out of this phase.”

As much as I love and respect Julie I don’t think he will. I killed his dog in second grade. I was walking home from school and I heard it behind the fence, yapping away. It never could shut up. I hopped the fence that day. I took a knife and plunged it straight into that dumb dogs face. I don’t regret it. My only regret was leaving a witness. But I can fix that.


I wait until Julie leaves the library to take out my list. The last name on it is Jonah. I remember Jonah. It really wasn’t his fault but it had to be done. I couldn’t leave him alive to rape another girl. The same way I can’t leave Eric to tell someone about the poor mutt. I have no choice. I write down Eric’s name. My shoulders feel lighter as soon as I do it. I still have to kill him but at least now it’s planned. My whole life revolves around this list. Everyone who has ever wronged me is on it. If I had it my way, this whole planet would be wiped free of the skin disease called Humans. I hear the squeaking wheels of the librarians cart behind me and shove the book away. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I walk out into the crisp night air, for the sun had gone down while I was studying. I hit the pavement and started in the general direction of my dorm, trying to stay in the shadows. I would rather be the person people are creeped out by then the person being creeped out. I take a sharp right and cut across the grass, exposing myself to a watchful eye.

“Hey! Dick! Were you off to in such a hurry? Going home to kill your mom?” My insides cringe at the sound of his voice. He has no right to speak to me like this. although he got one thing right. I had killed my mother three years prior, but there is no way he knows about that. I keep my head down and continue on my path.

“DICK! Did I SAY you can walk away?” Eric ran in front of me, blocking my path and forming a wall between me and freedom. I plunge my hand into my pocket, feeling the smooth handle of my knife. I couldn’t kill him here, there’s too many people. I decide for the avoidance route, walking to the side and passing him towards my room. His hand shoots out to grab me but I’m already running, my feet flying in great leaps. I had been practicing in case this happened. I know exactly where to go. I turn left instead of entering the dorms and take an ally off to the side. I can feel my chest pounding, but not from fear.

His footsteps sound out behind me, loud and clumsy compared to my nimble gait. He’s closer than I had anticipated but that doesn’t matter. I round a corner and the football stadium comes into view. I can hear Eric’s labored breathing as I burst through the doors to the field, unlocked as planned. I run out on the turf and feel all the lights beaming down on me. Not part of the plan but they add a nice theatrical backdrop. I get to the goal post and stop, doing nothing to convey that I’m out of breath because truthfully, I’m not. Eric comes up behind me and leans over onto his knees, panting like the dog he is.

“What. The. Fu-“ and with that I tackle him, taking him to the ground in one fell swoop. He grunts loudly as I knock the wind out of him. My fist collides with his face and I feel a crack. He lets out a yell so loud I almost get scared but then I remember I don’t care. I roll off of him and go to my bag, reaching for the butcher knife in the front pouch. Suddenly I’m not standing anymore and then I’m on the ground, pain exploding in my side. His hand flies toward my face but I grab it in time and pull him towards me, kicking out with my feet, flipping him over and dislocating his shoulder. A shame really. I prefer them in tact. I get up and turn to face him, watching his breathing and body language. His face was wet and for a second I thought it was raining until I saw the teardrop. His lip trembles as he sees  my shape standing over him. “Pl-please, l-let me g-go.” His voice had a tremor in it and I traced his face with my finger. I reached behind me and grabbed the knife from the bag, along with the rope. I tied his hands first, behind his back popping his shoulder back into place as I went. Then I wrapped it around his ankles and tied it. He was yelling at this point. Practically screaming. That mattered not, for it would be over in a few moments. I took the end that wasn’t tied to him and through it over the goal post, grabbing it as it fell on the other side. I started pulling, hoisting him upside down. I had been working out but not enough, for I started sweating even in the chill. Eventually I had him up and off the ground, and I wrapped the rope around the base tying a knot. Then I went to him and knelt, looking him in the eyes, he began pleading with me, wriggling. I grabbed the knife from behind me and started playing with it, flinging it in the air and catching it nimbly.

“Ask me why.” My voice sounds strange to me, low and gravely. Cool.

“Why?” He sounds so desperate, scared, and angry.

“Because for too long I have had to deal with your incessant babbling. The snide comments and yelling across the square stop now. I simply won’t have it. You will learn to be a gentleman and a scholar or I will slit your throat like the cattle you are.” He spit in my face. That was his decision. He decided to die.

“You wouldn’t. I know you Dick. You’re an animal killer but you don’t have the guts to kill a human. You’re a scared little wimp who knows noth-“ I didn’t let him finish that sentence. He didn’t deserve it. I plunged the knife into his throat and made a slit the size of my fist. The blood gushed out, red and hot. I placed my hand into the stream, coating my fingers in the liquid. He let out a guttural noise and went limp. I lifted my hand to my face and sniffed the blood, then stuck my fingers in my mouth and started sucking. The metallic taste coated my tongue, staining my teeth red. I would have to buy a red popsicle to explain this. I stared at the upside down man before me and something occurs to me. Taking the knife in my bloody hand, I sliced through his trousers and started cutting away at his member. It fell to the ground and I had to laugh at the irony. Maybe the reason he called me a dick so much is because his is so little. I put the knife in my backpack to be disposed of later, and started walking towards the main gate. I would leave Eric hanging there, exposed for all to see. Maybe later i’ll come and mourn.


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