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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Hennry is a Killer with a soul...

Submitted: July 30, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 30, 2012



  • Chapter 1:Hennry


There wasn't much of a difference between Myself nor the Sixty Four


People I've killed in my life time...I say Sixty Four Sixty four are the


ones I remember...Exploded or...Just ganked quickly to accomplish a


greater goal....that goal..isn't Militant or Terrorist Ideals Nor Does it get


me off in any way.just paid...its almost..a calling..if your in the


way..well your in the way-My Name is Hennry Just Hennry With Two "N"'s


  Adjacently placed together like folded Glock .40 cal's like Three Knives


multiplied by Two-I feel nothing but regret for the people the people I


kill Harmed...Every time one of them dies-I feel-I grow a little


inside...I aim-No Pun Intended to tell you a story...a story that I will


keep short and sweet So lets begin.Excuse my punctuation and language


excuse my accent and my rapid thought pace i'll try to keep you in the


loop as well as Human/sub humanly possible-I was born at night,The Dead


of night-To A Dead mother in a over packed under staffed county hospital


at exactly 3:00 a.m. Three A.m...The same time so many have died-I was


born I suppose I never understood the compulsion to kill at the exact


time every Early Morning but I suppose I do now...My Father died in a


war fighting for someone else's Money,Oil,Pride etc. Etc. My mother..I


don't rightfully know how she passed on besides she was dead when the


doctors delivered me.My name is Hennry With Two N's-I am a contract hit





  • Chapter 2:Hit or miss



There was blood on the windshield and blood on the stereo system playing


shitty eighty's hair metal.The car was nice a Two thousand and something


S.U.V With Video screens in the headrests witch incidentally are


now,also-covered in blood and snot-The low recoil .40 cal still smoking


from the tussle-I say tussle but I sat in the back seat of his car for


16 hours waiting on this idiot to go out for some smokes or beer-2:22


a.m. rolled around and here he stumbled-sat his fat white ass in the


comfortable leather warmed seats-he started her up-press started at


that-I sat quietly riding with this man whom had no idea i was sitting


in his backseat with a cocked and loaded weapon of facial destruction-I


sat as he pulled into the all night Liquor store then the all night gas


stop-by 2:53 My finger itched and I'd assume the back of his head did


too-He stepped in his car again press started it and began the 15 minuet


journey home he would never finish-seven minuets into the drive I put


the chrome to his head and he then realized that I was there for the


first time in 16 hours hell in two weeks I felt alive-One shot one


kill-The car veered to the left and flipped over a low divider-Crawling


from under that bent and twisted metal and glass Polaroids of children


crying and bleeding floated from the exploded rear hatch-I walked away-


  • Chapter 3: Darker Thought

I used to prey to a God when I was small-Now I prey to my weapons and


skill-32 years of killing and I feel it wont soon stop-The Police have


no idea who I am-I roam the states-Mexico-Canada-even the islands


looking for my payday my medication my reason-Staring down another road


in another stolen car another motel room another hit-Just like a drug I


feel like i'm searching for just that-one more sweet hit of revenge from


the people my people tell me are evil and wicked-I used to work for the


Street gangs and "MOB" Types-Now I work for the Sex crimes division of


  Manchester new york-Bob Halie Sends A Packet to one of my 55 drop


points and I do my deed how I feel fit-Like the Rapist in Boise,Idaho Or


the Cannibal in Jersey-The band of 14 Hillbilly's in Arizona Raping eating


and torturing teenagers to further there family's rankings with inbreed


murderers-I napalmed them all during family supper,out in the desert its


so hard to put out a massive chemical fire...I just keep patrolling these


roads...looking for some type of injustice,because if there is no


injustice...I don't get a fix...



  • Chapter 4: The Final Trumpet blows



I tell you all this rooted in a nightmare-A Waking dream that seems so


real yet I know its not..there blood drips backwards up the mirror,they


scream at me from under the floors I can hear them scratching at me-In


my hand I hold a knife but its not for them its for myself-All the evil


I consumed as I grew now Owns me...It rules over every thought I have


and I assure you..they give me no comfort now-I can again feel the devil


Watching me squirm just as I did when I was a child-Laying leather


  strapped to a table-Needle after needle-Drugs and Shock therapy-Nothing


helped me but them...and there deaths-I imagine im bleeding out somewhere


cold and dark physically but in my head,as I fade-I'm stuck in this old


cabin with boards on the windows and a open door that just moves further


as I attempt to walk threw it-I suppose this is how it feels..when the


final trumpet blows....where do I go from here....

© Copyright 2020 WilliamHMorbid. All rights reserved.

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