The Prize
It was dark in this house. Too dark for my liking. It made me notice things, the darkness. See things that weren’t there before. I knew for a fact there was no blood on that painting over there when I arrived. I stared at the watercolour, my right hand warm and so slippery the kitchen knife clattered raucously to the floor. It was a painting of a leaf, floating elegantly on pure water. It was an ugly painting, water colours blending too smoothly, dots and splashes of pale blue paint leaking into a browning autumn leaf. Leaking and soaking. I tilted my head and smiled. Soaking. That’s what the body was doing. The cerise liquid running from the body was leaking into the fur carpet, soaking it. I turned back towards it.
“Oh, you poor thing!” I smiled through my words. My throat felt scratched and raw; I had been laughing and screaming too as I watched the life drain away from the man’s eyes. I knelt down on the carpet, and sprang back up before I could think. Damn! I didn’t want to get blood on me this time. I liked these clothes; they were a gift to me from someone far away. Well, they weren’t far at the time, but who knows where the sea takes corpses after they are disposed? But that’s not the point. It was only a smear of blood, but even so. That would make me suspicious. I looked into the darkest corner and squinted my eyes.
The thing stared back at me, blank and unfeeling, cloaked in shadow, blessed in calamity, blooming death wherever it stood.
“Proud? It’ll be yours soon enough, so don’t you fret!” I rasped.
It stayed where it was and opened its mouth in a depraved smile. “Pr…oud…” It whispered. At that moment, an exorbitant amount of moonlight flooded into the room, blinding me. I panicked. There are centipedes that follow moonlight. I can’t let them find me. I scrambled around the room; the layout imprinted in my brain. After all, I had spent months watching this man, learning his routines, remembering the blueprints of his abode. I grasped around for the curtains, careful not to trip on the corpse or anything else. A touch of soft velvet brushed against my hand. There! I grabbed both curtains and yanked them together as hard as I could. I was swallowed in complete darkness again. I could sense creatures writhing around me. I could smell the sickly-sweet stench of death emanating from his body. Using this, I went back to my position next to him.
Why am I doing this, you may ask? Because I offered my soul in exchange for money, and now I want it back. I got the money, oh yes, because after all, devils and daemons never lie. But money’s useless to me now. Why would I need money? To save my business. I wouldn’t say it was a regret. For days and days, I bathed in colours. Burgundy, magenta, azure and ornate. Flashes of the Queen and the other man (what was his name again?) drowned me. Oh, to be rich! But now, I must kill in order to feed my prize to the monster in the corner, in trade for my soul back. When I first killed, around five years ago, I felt nothing. That’s the scary part, don’t you see? I had never felt anything for these worthless people and their futile lives, only pure joy and anxiousness to end them.
Yet, despite this person being the last to be ended by my hands, I have no intent on stopping completely. One hundred people have lost their lives due to my ignorance, greed and desperation. What if I could become the biggest killer known to man? What if I could kill two hundred? What if--
No! One day I will go too far, and I will get caught. I need to finish this and return to my normal life.
I knelt down once more. Time to find my last prize.
I turned the man onto his back. His entrails followed him, red and wet, leaving smears of blood where they trailed. I picked my knife back up and wiped off as much blood as I could onto the remaining clean parts of the grey carpet. I held the serrated steel knife above my head, then stabbed it down right onto his abdomen and drew it upwards, towards the bloody gash on his neck, which now bared arteries and stretched muscle. I admired the organs and gleaming insides. So pretty! I traced my hand over an organ which I can’t remember so well, and recoiled in shock. It was cold! Had I left the corpse for too long? Had all his life drained away? Had his blood run dry? I cried in fear and took a risky glance at the corner. There was no way in hell I’ll offer this to the thing in the shadows. I can’t imagine the horrors should I offend it.
Wait! There was still lingering warmth, higher than the diaphragm, in between the pink, spongy flesh of the lungs. If I can reach the prize in time, I may just be accepted. I may just get my soul back. I plunged my hands in and retched. This was bad. Usually it was easy to cut out my prize, but in my panic, I had made a mistake. Did centipedes reside here? I was warned about them. Awful creatures that crawl in your ear, run around the cochlea, turn you mad and scramble your brains…
Don’t stop! Keep searching, it should be close. I could still barely see; my eyes couldn’t adjust anymore. Where? Where was it? It should be near! Was this a real human? Was this a hallucination? I don’t think so. I even checked, I saw the entrails and the blood leaking, the life draining—
There it was. A strong muscle. Still warm. I pulled as hard as I could, and the aorta snapped. A heart. A healthy one too.
“You would have lived for a long while, sir.” I smiled warmly this time. I clutched the muscle to my chest, blood spilling and dribbling down my cloth shirt. I sighed. Perfect. I crawled over to the corner, about a couple feet away. I brought the bloody heart close to my face and touched my lips to it. My prize. My beautiful, deserving prize. I brought it forward, blood now running down my arms in little threads, like red string. I bowed my head, a polite offering. I felt warm air surround my hand, and suddenly the weight was lifted, the heart gone.
“Have… your soul… you loathsome creature.” It grated. “Live… with your… immoralities. Feel… your own heart… grow heavy with remorse…, dismay… and guilt.”
And with that, it left me there to rot. The pungent stench of death no longer smelt sweet and enticing. It was nauseating and repulsive. The organs and insides were no longer pretty and beautiful, they were appalling and grisly, something no one should experience seeing, less they be saving lives. My lips tasted of cold, rusty iron. Those cold, dead eyes of an innocent man, no longer did they hold hope for me, but rather dismay and utter horror.
Was it worth it?
A voice in my head. A tip-tapping on the walls. I shot around to face the window. Moonlight glared in disappointment. I tried. I really did. But I guess sacrificing your humanity for money is not worth it.
A scaly body. Thin legs in the hundreds protruding from a twisted form. A warped fork tail. A stripy, patterned back, and malevolent, glaring red. It was getting closer, the tapping getting louder, louder, louder. And then it stopped, and I felt something slither across my neck.
I curled into a ball. Not even sobs came. There was no point, after all. I laughed. How unfortunate of me.
And so, there I was, choking on recent death, laughing to myself as my mind delved back into madness.
