★ Referring to last post ☆
astral-baby last edited by astral-baby
✪ Through quick, few steps and some thread and a needle, he knew already that their minds were much too feeble.
The killer wasn’t nervous in the slightest about getting caught, he knew he could outwit them as he had done so many times before. Ten steps ahead of them, he watched and listened to their every move and the ones they had planned.
✪ Wicked intentions awakening, he continued on with his blissful hastening.
As time passed, the more he began to grow fond of his ideas. The man was eaten up by the satisfaction of his twisted game. As if the manifestation of all his wicked intentions thus far had embraced him, enveloped him, and gave him wings to fly. He would soar, then plunge himself into the depths of hell.
✪ Contempt in his ways, he was much too smart, he carved out the man’s still beating heart.
At one point he thought of what he was doing as “evil” and “sick.” It is why he loved it. What started out as machiavellianism soon grew into psychopathy. He wanted to make the person suffer as much as he could, enjoying every minute of it until he slowly severed the arteries and yanked his heart out.
✪ Screams of agony filled his ears, he relished in the man’s bleeding tears.
Screams of terror, agony, fear and many things at once filled the killer’s ears, ranging in pitch like a one-man orchestra. Though his eyes weren’t quite literally bleeding, the pain was enough to make it seem like it, as they streamed down his face and into the pool of blood below him.
✪ Such pretty glass eyes, so fearful and lonely, but different from his former ones of monotony.
Now with his consciousness fading, the tears still lingered in his eyes, giving them a slight sheen like glass. How lonely he felt in his last moments, how pitiful he felt for himself. Like all his negative feelings were bubbling at the surface, they soon calmed. He hadn’t felt this much in years. Usually stoic and cold, his masks were unraveling.
✪ Prodding through flesh and bone, his cries ceased but lingered all alone.
As the killer continued on with his “masterpiece,” the man’s now soft cries felt as lonely as ever. There was no more echo, they did not linger- they just died as soon as they left his lips.
✪ Eyes wandering overhead to the pretty, decorated, dome, the man’s prodding tools continued to roam.
The dome was not decorated, nor pretty, nor was it a dome. It was dark and dank tunnel-like place with blinding lights. He thought he saw what was beyond. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t.
✪ He had ventured there on a decree, but was met with the last sight he’d ever see.
A former detective, the current victim was there to investigate. In his town there had been many ‘missing persons’ in a short amount of time, of all shapes and sizes. There was no preference, there were very little leads. There had been bodies discarded in odd places, all mutilated in what seemed to be very similar ways. Though they were victims who seemed to have maladies of the skin. Seemed like the psychopath still wanted to have some fun, or did not want to leave the job half-done, so he continued.
✪ A shaky last breath as the life left his eyes, he regretted never saying his goodbyes.
A cold man who didn’t have much concern for others, he deeply regretted what he had- or rather, what he hadn’t, done, in his last moments. He wished he could say one last farewell to those he deemed important, to those he cared for, he wished he had done so much more. He opened his eyes to see something other than darkness one last time, then he was gone.
✪ Setting the hooks and braces throughout his arms and hands, as if re-animated, he started to dance.
Now as the killer stitched the man up, he attached all the support needed to fit the next few braces like a puzzle. Continuing to carve out every organ in his body, he threw them into a cooler. Finally, after stitching him up well, he was finished with his human taxidermy. He undid the braces that held him down, wiped him off and sat him up. The killer stitched open his eyes, nose, then lips into a wide, empty smile, then sprayed him with wax spray thoroughly. Heaving the man off the surgical table, he dressed him in smart attire, gelled his hair back and applied some rouge to give him some colour, as well as applying some light nude lipstick. A crazed giggle left him as he dragged the man to a case, attached braces around his ankle, neck, waist, armsand head to support him and closed the door.
Taking a step back, he marveled at his collection of puppets.
Looks like the murderer did not always achieve the desired result if he had to discard some of his "creations".
I already thought that it had something to do with a wicked person who pretended to be a medical physician. Now it is all clear.
This story reminds me of these a bit:
Puppets and dolls for everyone!