27 Nov, 2012 12:51 PM
Made a mockery of yet again by my fellow classmates, I smiled to myself they won't be laughing when they are choking on their blood. It was the perfect opportunity, Jason was leaning over the open window, I imagined pushing him out, the terrified scream and the sickening crunching off his bones. They would have to scrape him off the pavement I rushed forward and pushed him before I change my mind.
He screamed in surprise and I heard the thud of his head against concrete, I looked down below splatters of blood stained the concrete red, I turned to my fellow classmates and chuckled "I like the new paint they put on the pavement don't you? it's just how I imagined" everyone was still for a moment before someone let out a shrill scream, everybody rushing for the door people trampled on the way out, I laughed and grabbed... [Read More]
, Dark World
, DarknessVotes: 19
26 Jan, 2015 10:59 AM
“Today was exceedingly slow. First off, waking up at 6:30, ‘who even fucking scheduled that!?’ anyways, waking up seemed to take forever. I must have slept wonderfully last night because drool was EVERYWHERE! UGH! It was like a hound dog that kept his mouth wide open all night long. Breakfast was good, though I ran out of fucking corn flakes. The cat would not shut up either. However, the rest of the time at home went pretty smooth; got dressed, left for work…blah, blah.
The ride to work was GOD awful! So much traffic and ASSHOLE drivers!! This butt-head decided that he wanted to turn in front of me. Casually, I sped up in hopes of ramming the bastard. My conscience was telling me that I should go follow this guy for a little "chit chat". Well I did. We must have driven for an hour or so. I had... [Read More]
, GraphicVotes: 5
12 Oct, 2012 04:08 AM
I want to knock someone out, cold and unconscious. Just with a hard, blunt object to the back of their skull, cracking the back just enough that some blood drips out in a steady stream spiking my senses. Then as their body limply falls to the ground making a loud thud, I look around to check no one was around then drag their unsuspecting body to my chosen place of torture. Just a small shack I found off in the woods, with no one around for miles, I can do as I please. Laying them down on a metal table I strap down their arms and legs tightly enough that the blood gets cut off. Above the victim on the ceiling is a large mirror I had hung a few hours before. This mirror is so the victim can watch their torture being played through and watch as I slowly... [Read More]
, GraphicVotes: 12
22 Jul, 2013 07:31 AM
I knew a boy once. A boy whose smile never left his face and whose manners never flew away. Nathan, his name was. Nathan. Such a beautiful name that just purrs off the tongue. Brown hair, green eyes, oh he was handsome. You'd think that, anyway, just from looking at him.
But if you looked closely, I mean really looked, you'd see why he was in a mental institution. You'd see the pain flickering behind his eyes, dark and powerful, until you couldn't look anymore and had to force your gaze away. And when Nathan smiled, you could see the strain in his facade. Black pain, deep and permanent. No one could ever erase it or what happened.
Some people wonder why he never spoke after he killed his parents. Well, he didn't really kill them on purpose, but they were collateral damage. He started a fire. Really, fires are... [Read More]
, Dark MindVotes: 7
27 Aug, 2015 06:27 AM
I sat on to my bed, starring up at the cracked, old, concrete ceiling and drifted in thought. I was once again trying to find a reason behind what I do, but came to the same conclusion every time. There was no reason, I just loved it. Every little second was a free-fall, so much adrenaline but no outlet, other than screaming or laughing. The best part was the last few seconds, as strange as that sounds the exact moment when you see the light and life leave there dull eyes, there last pitiful breath. I’m addicted to killing, or rather the screams and blood that comes along with it. I smiled, taking a break from my thoughts, and reached for the plastic cup sitting on the floor with shaking hands. Downing the contents of the cup, I cursed, and decided to get some more tonight.
As I walked down... [Read More]
Tags: Serial Killer
, I'm BaaackVotes: 16
11 Jan, 2017 05:25 AM
Some say using big words are just ineffective, useless, demeaning, and plainly idiotic. I, myself, enjoy the use of longer words. Like serene, idiotic, scrupulous, and others such as those. But, when making a point one must not use language that another cannot comprehend. As such, when arguing or stating facts, one does not exaggerate their vocabulary to heights of which the other cannot see, hear, or process. A police officer does not come to a house and say: “Madame, I do regret to dispose of your heavenly evening but your daughter is farther and passed as she can get”. They say it how the fact is, “Your daughter is dead”. But a writer writes in elegant hand and exposes the words like a painting of rhymes, metaphors, and insatiable critique. Thus, when reading a poem to a passed loved one, one must choose to be as elegant as a... [Read More]
, GraphicVotes: 2