serrated_colon
Member
I wrote this story like 2 years ago, and I'm considering rewriting it. Any tips?
No Remorse
I’ll be plain with you; I’m a killer. Why you say? I kill mainly because I can. Call me crazy, wild, insane, fanatical even passionate if you wish. I don’t care. The police haven’t caught me. They don’t have a single clue who, or what I am. To be frank, I’m too intelligent for them.
Another factor as to why I kill, the spark that started this fire of death was this. When I was around 25, I still lived with my best friend. We had fun. We laughed together, sung together and even bathed together when we were toddlers. If anything happened, we had each other. But something happened:
I was out one day, it was my friend’s turn to clean the house, and mine to buy the food. I was only out for about 10 minutes. When I returned, he was lying in a pool of his own blood. I felt a fusion of different emotions, for different reasons. I went insane. This ‘fuel’ fed my anger. The melancholy of it all fed my insanity. I was prepared to kill.
I called the police, and ran off. Somebody deserved to be punished. But who. My intuition told me to wait a while. Once the killer was caught, he would anonymously die.
I waited five whole months. Still, the police had no idea who the killer was. I was infuriated that the police were tricked so easily. Thus, the police will be punished. I will go on a killing spree, and never be caught. How would this punish the police? It would punish their reputation. People will be enraged at the police’s ‘stupidity’. Of course, it won’t be stupidity; it will be that I’m too clever.
My first kill wasn’t very planned. Still irate from the idiocy of the police, I hit a random person on the head with a bat. I wasn’t so stupid as to not burn my clothes and destroy the bat, but I was still lucky. The man I killed went into a state of vegetation, and died after 3 years. Even if they caught me, they couldn’t convict me. It’s a legal loophole you see. This was only the beginning, of the end of many lives.
I’ll admit, my first kill was pretty stupid. My emotions got the better of me. It was fool’s luck that I was never stupid. Taking this upon me, I had to plan my next kill.
For this kill, it never mattered who my victim was; since random kills are much more effective (in terms of getting away with it) than kills where you know the victim. Here was my plan:
I was going to learn about my victim’s life indirectly through people who know him, posing in different disguises. Obviously, my accent had to change each time. Luckily, I was quite the impressionist. This was not necessary, but any dire parts of the victim’s life, where he did something he regretted. That could make this like a crime of passion. This would be necessary if the body of this victim was ever to be found. Of course, it doesn’t matter if there is nothing about my victim’s life he regrets. His body will never be found anyway. It doesn’t matter what weapon I use, as long as it is sharp. I would cut up his body into pieces, limb by limb. I’d have to bring some sort of bomb and a detonator (since I am proficient in science, this is no problem). Also, I’d have to bring some spare underwear. I would put the limbs of this body in a bag, and take a yacht very far out to sea. I’d empty the bag, take all my clothes off and put on my spare underwear. I would jump into sea, swim near to the shore and bomb the ship. Swimming is my alibi for being in the sea.
I was never caught for this crime, even though it had flaws. Moreover, the police are still looking for my victim to this date. As for what I felt committing this ‘crime’, I felt nothing.
7 years later, I was 29 years old, had committed over 50 kills without being caught. But something was missing.
“ All of my carnage has lacked somewhere, but where?â€
No Remorse
I’ll be plain with you; I’m a killer. Why you say? I kill mainly because I can. Call me crazy, wild, insane, fanatical even passionate if you wish. I don’t care. The police haven’t caught me. They don’t have a single clue who, or what I am. To be frank, I’m too intelligent for them.
Another factor as to why I kill, the spark that started this fire of death was this. When I was around 25, I still lived with my best friend. We had fun. We laughed together, sung together and even bathed together when we were toddlers. If anything happened, we had each other. But something happened:
I was out one day, it was my friend’s turn to clean the house, and mine to buy the food. I was only out for about 10 minutes. When I returned, he was lying in a pool of his own blood. I felt a fusion of different emotions, for different reasons. I went insane. This ‘fuel’ fed my anger. The melancholy of it all fed my insanity. I was prepared to kill.
I called the police, and ran off. Somebody deserved to be punished. But who. My intuition told me to wait a while. Once the killer was caught, he would anonymously die.
I waited five whole months. Still, the police had no idea who the killer was. I was infuriated that the police were tricked so easily. Thus, the police will be punished. I will go on a killing spree, and never be caught. How would this punish the police? It would punish their reputation. People will be enraged at the police’s ‘stupidity’. Of course, it won’t be stupidity; it will be that I’m too clever.
My first kill wasn’t very planned. Still irate from the idiocy of the police, I hit a random person on the head with a bat. I wasn’t so stupid as to not burn my clothes and destroy the bat, but I was still lucky. The man I killed went into a state of vegetation, and died after 3 years. Even if they caught me, they couldn’t convict me. It’s a legal loophole you see. This was only the beginning, of the end of many lives.
I’ll admit, my first kill was pretty stupid. My emotions got the better of me. It was fool’s luck that I was never stupid. Taking this upon me, I had to plan my next kill.
For this kill, it never mattered who my victim was; since random kills are much more effective (in terms of getting away with it) than kills where you know the victim. Here was my plan:
I was going to learn about my victim’s life indirectly through people who know him, posing in different disguises. Obviously, my accent had to change each time. Luckily, I was quite the impressionist. This was not necessary, but any dire parts of the victim’s life, where he did something he regretted. That could make this like a crime of passion. This would be necessary if the body of this victim was ever to be found. Of course, it doesn’t matter if there is nothing about my victim’s life he regrets. His body will never be found anyway. It doesn’t matter what weapon I use, as long as it is sharp. I would cut up his body into pieces, limb by limb. I’d have to bring some sort of bomb and a detonator (since I am proficient in science, this is no problem). Also, I’d have to bring some spare underwear. I would put the limbs of this body in a bag, and take a yacht very far out to sea. I’d empty the bag, take all my clothes off and put on my spare underwear. I would jump into sea, swim near to the shore and bomb the ship. Swimming is my alibi for being in the sea.
I was never caught for this crime, even though it had flaws. Moreover, the police are still looking for my victim to this date. As for what I felt committing this ‘crime’, I felt nothing.
7 years later, I was 29 years old, had committed over 50 kills without being caught. But something was missing.
“ All of my carnage has lacked somewhere, but where?â€