it Begins
Holidays, the beginning of my end. It takes me nine months to recuperate from three months of insanity. The time when the sun procrastinate it's awakening of the day. During that twilight time of night when the dark is deeper then the brightest star, that's when my personalities play. Holding my psych in bondage. Forcing it to witness despicable acts done by my hands but by their will.
A clear cool night. Seasonal, a Harvest Moon, October's end, my head was throbbing. I was salivating sulfur and drowning in the aroma of formaldehyde. All around me the colors spun. I grasped in vain onto a decaying rainbow. Hysterically ran head first down a hole between where red and orange used to be.
A glow,
jack o lantern?
Halloween?
This is my house but I don't recall decorating. Blood splatter everywhere, bloody hand prints on the wall. Pools of crimson, black gelled coagulated life's essence. I looked at my hands they were covered in the red sticky. The air was tainted with the echoes of begs for mercy. I had surreal visions of removing flesh.
A knock at the door.
Thoughts process in colored scenarios. Facial muscles twitch as if smiling was foreign and unnatural. My reflection, but not me looking back, instead it's a cold calculated sadistic child killer. He was sporting a smile flawlessly executed. His thoughts were slimy and sick.
I heard with a hint of sarcasm "ready?" not really a question
Using my body he opens the door where three words accost me.
"Trick or Treat!"
There in front of me were two delicious morsels with huge smiles begging...
I wanted to shut the door. Scream at them to run away. My soul was frozen. My voice no longer my own.
"I have treats, if you dare. In a great big bowl at the end of the hall near the bottom of the stairs." These were the words I spoke as I watched me herd the children deeper into the bowels of the house.
"Mister your place is scary, how much further 'fore the treats." said the boy in the Power Ranger costume.
I felt my teeth grind while straining the smile. Rage fueled my insensitivity. Quick movement, liquid in motion. The boy was turning a funny shade while dangling by his throat in my tightening grip.
In her little fairy outfit she was quick to react. She wailed like a Banshee, one pitch below dog whistle . With my free hand I grabbed her arm jerking it so hard it snapped. Before she could register the pain I saw me smash her head into a wall, killing her instantly.
Back to the boy. Releasing the grip slightly. I felt adrenaline flush my system empowering me. I collected the tears fresh from his eyes then his eyes fresh from his head. As his scream began to form in his throat I ripped out his tongue and used it to gag him. Unable to turn away I couldn't help but be amazed at the amount of blood in such small vessels.
The images, burnt into my forever.
