Schizophrenic Monologue

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Creative Writing monologue for course work
Word count: 583

Submitted: July 27, 2015

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Submitted: July 27, 2015

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Schizophrenic Cannibal

Why did I do it? That's the big question everyone keeps asking.
Sometimes I reflect on the decisions that I made and I feel something stir in my core - it feels similar to regret, or guilt, but it does not last long. All that I did was for a reason. If only  they understood; my actions were for a purpose greater than they will ever know. 
The voices began at a young age, resonating softly in my ears like a heavy whisper. Their voices were croaky and gruff, filling my head with their haunting words. At first I accepted them; I thought everyone could hear the voices. But when I, a young naive child, spoke of them I was shunned and silenced - no one else could hear them. I became frightened but soon learned to accept them. They told me they were a part of me and that they could help me but I was never to speak of them so carelessly again. They were to be kept a secret or the humans, whom they called the disease, would try to take the voices away and I would not be able to complete what I had been born to do.
As I matured they became louder until I could hear each word as crisp as fresh snow. They spoke to me everyday, calling themselves the Divine, the same coarse voices rattling in my head. They said I was special and with that came a special duty. I had a mission from God himself.
The first sacrifice was a frantic gulp of fresh air. She had not screamed at first but the pure unadulterated horror in her bloodshot eyes was enough to cure the thirst. She had worn a sleek pink dress and wooden sandals but the innocence of her ebony features did not fool me - she was a dirty woman, born in filth, and it was my duty to rid the world of these bad women. So I did.
I had dismembered her left arm first using a jagged and rusty saw, cutting and cutting. By the time it had dropped to the floor with a dull thud, her eyes were glazed over and her chest rose with a stutter. She was fading. I took her apart, limb by limb. Her life essence dribbled and dripped all over the table, pooling on the floor in a mirror of crimson red. My wife, my mistress and I dined on the flesh of the evil later as part of our purification ritual. We cleansed ourselves in her blood and reveled in our greatness. We were delivering the Lord's will.
The Divine had quietened once the task was complete. They seemed distant, as if they were waiting in another room. But it did not silence them all-together. I spent many months preparing to and then purifying my home town, destroying the adolescent disease that plagued this world.
When the police came, I was not surprised. They handcuffed me roughly, their voices a mere grumble in comparison with the Divine. They were muttering, speaking low  as if to not arouse attention, about the chance I have to make a change. Caught, I would become a celebrity and in that position I could preach to the globe about my mission and hope that others continue the extinction of the lesser vile humans, to reduce the population until only the elite remained. I was at a position of power and I would use that power to chastise the world.


© Copyright 2020 Spacey. All rights reserved.

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