Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25301975-20140902065241





I have a rather... dark pastime these days. I say these days, but I really mean my whole life has been about finding ways to satisfy this... longing, this craving. This feeling is always there, even as I'm typing this, I feel it burning and thriving inside of me. Oh, I forgot to tell you what it was. Well, it's murder. I will give a list of a few of my victims and short story about each murder. Its dark, I know. But I can't help it. This insatiable hunger has to be fed.

My First Time:

-This won't take very long. My first kill, or the first I remember anyways, was innocently enough, an ant. Like I said, this wouldn't take long. Moving on.

My First Rush:

-I went hunting with my dad once, when I was around 11 or 12. I got to shoot my dads rifle at a large buck. I hit it on my first shot. When we ran to it, it was still alive. You could see the fear and suffering in its eyes. It was covered in blood around, the wound, which was at the base of the neck, right above its shoulder was gushing blood, it was horrid and disgusting... but I felt amazing. The fear, the blood, the smell, everything was just so... perfect.

My First Human:

-Years later, on my 21st birthday is when I found out that killing was something I enjoyed. I was driving home, completely hammered, and I hit a man. I jumped out of the car to see if he was okay. His leg was bent forward, almost in a perfect L. His right arm was bent backwards and his left had a bone protruding out of his elbow. He was crying out in pain, asking me for help. That feeling I got at that moment was... luxurious. I needed more of that. I jumped back into my car and ran him over. I then  put the car in reverse and backed over him. I did this again and again and again. Each bump of the car filled me with more and more adrenaline. I got out to check the body again. His limbs were broken, his right leg was practically torn off. His head was crushed in, the body was surrounded by blood. Most people would have found the sight repulsive. I found it beautiful and breathtaking. I then realized I would have to hide the body if I ever wanted to do this again. I drove to my house, and in my basement, I stuffed the body. As of writing this, there are 25 bodies in my basement.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">My First Struggle and Only Regret:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">-A few weeks later, I got my next chance to feed my hunger. I met this woman, her name was Jennifer. She was absolutely stunning. She had beautiful, long brown hair. Her eyes were a beautiful green, and they were covered only by her glasses, which just complemented her look. She wore a light blue, small jacket and dark blue skinny jean. She wore a black and white converse on each foot. She was absolutely breathtaking. Despite what this article seems to show about me, I'm normal in almost all aspects. I can carry a conversation and make you laugh, and even charm you. So I talked to this women, everything about her was... elegant. I asked her her name, if she had any pets, her birthday, the normal stuff. We talked for hours, and eventually went back to my place. We talked even more there before putting on our favorite movie, Home Alone. Weird, right? Neither of us knew why we liked, but we did. She was the most perfect person I've ever met... Which is why I regret her death so much. That night, she fell asleep on my couch. I was making a sandwich when I walked into my living room, and saw her sleeping there. My first thought was shes defenseless, helpless, kill her. I tried riding my mind of this thought, but it persisted and clung to every rational thought, every excuse I could think of was covered up by the hunger, the craving to make someone suffer! I screamed, waking her up and she ran into the kitchen. I had a large knife in my hand as she ran into the kitchen. I turned to look at her. “What's wrong Conner?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Please, leave, now!” I yelled at her. I didn't want to kill her, but I had to.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“What? Why?, I thought you liked me?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Please, leave, I don't want to hurt you!” She turned her back to me, and at that moment, at that... perfect moment, I leapt at her. I dug the knife into her back so far it protruded out of the other side. She let out a sharp, but quiet scream. This only filled me with more enjoyment. I moved and twisted the knife around in her back, each flick and twist of the wrist flung blood on me and the kitchen floor and cabinets. Oh that moment was glorious. The blood, the body, the smell... just everything. But I snapped out of it and saw the woman of my dreams, alive, but dying. At that moment, nothing filled me with joy, just anger and grief. I met the most perfect girl, and here she was, bleeding and dying in my kitchen with a knife, MY knife, in her back. I crawled back against the cabinets and started crying. I couldn't believe that I could do this, I didn't want to be this... monster. I didn't want to feel the rush that I've felt with the others. Looking back though, this thought was foolish. That feeling, that rush was me, it's what I live for. However, this is one kill I still highly regret, but what's done is done.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">My Favorite Kill:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">-This was my 16th  kill (I didn't want to tell you all my kills, as there are a lot). This was a tall male, well built and most likely found intimidating by most other males. I ,however, found him less intimidating and more of a challenge. And me being a human, I'm not one to turn down a challenge. I wanted to see if I could get him alone and scared and begging for his life. How would I do this. Well, I would befriend him. As people usually find me an altogether likeable guy, this wasn't to difficult. I talked to him, and found out he was married, had a wife and two young kids. I laughed, I was taking his life and his kids father, it was priceless. Anyways, I took him on a fishing trip to this empty cabin in the mountains during the summer. Behind the cabin was an old rusted, sheet metal shed. I walked over there with him, claiming there was something cool in the shed. As he opened the door, I bashed him over the head with a wrench sitting next to the shed. Oh man, the sound of the hit, that cracking sound followed by a loud thud... oh, it was exhilarating. I dragged him over to a chair and tied him to it. I made it as tight as possible and bolted the chair to the floor of the shed. I sat there staring at him, the only light coming through holes in the rusted ceiling. He awoke sometime later to me, staring at him. I had an array of tools strewn in front of him. I had everything from a spoon to a chainsaw. He asked, “What's going on?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Hi Ted, how are you?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“David, what's going on?”(I told him my name was David)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Oh, haven't you heard?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Heard what?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“You know, the word.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“What?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“The bird is the word.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“What the fuck?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Ah, what the fuck indeed. You're probably wondering why you're here, right? Well I'll tell you. You had the unfortunate chance of being a challenge to me. I've been planning this since the day we met. Oh, its nothing against you or anyone, I'm just a little, kind of, really fucked up.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“What are you going to do.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Whatever you choose.” I pointed to all the tools laid in front of him. He chose the spoon. Oh, too perfect. I took the spoon and shoved it under his eye. I then wiggled the spoon around his eye socket before finally digging his eye out. It hung there out of his eye, swinging around. I found myself wondering if he could still see out of it. So I asked him, “Can you still see out of that eye.” I waited patiently for a reply, as he was screaming. “Hey Ted, can you see out of that eye?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Fuck you!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Oh, wrong answer.” I took a pair of pliers and I clamped them onto his... optic nerve, I believe its called that. I then ran them down to the back of the eyeball. I increased my pressure on the pliers and slid farther down, popping his eye off. His scream got even louder and I got even more excited. “Choose your next tool.” He pointed to a butter knife. That's my favorite tool of murder. Weird, right? Anyways, I dug the knife into his already bare socket and twisted around. I took care not to kill him, as I wasn't done with him yet. After that, I bandaged his wound as best I could(I didn't want to mess with that eye anymore) and asked him to choose another tool. He looked for awhile. This I was okay with, I even told him to take his time. He pointed to the chainsaw. This was quite the surprise, but I picked it up and yanked the cord. It came on and started roaring. “Choose a limb you don't mind losing.” He thought for a moment, then pointed to his head. “Oh, no. You can't die yet. Choose another.” He looked down, then pointed to his foot. “Ah, the foot it is then. How fun!” I slowly dug the chainsaw deeper and deeper into his ankle. His scream got louder and louder with each inch. Oh, it was brilliant. After that was done, I cauterized and dressed the wound. “One last tool before you die. Don't worry, this'll only be the most painful part.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Please David, please, no more. Just kill me!” He yelled, sobbing. I smiled. “Well since you asked nicely.” I looked down for a tool I thought would be fun to use. I found a blowtorch and flicked it on. “Don't move your head Ted. Ha, that rhymed. I can make a rhyme any time.” I put the blow torch to his good eye. Man that smell, that smell of burning eye was... strong. I loved it. I gave the torch even more gas and held it even closer to his eye. His eye started melting in his socket, turning into some kind of... slime. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Once his eye was pretty much gone, I turned of the torch. I looked around the shed. “OOO, what's next!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Please, kill me David, just kill me!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Fine, you gotta take all the fun out of it.” I sighed. I picked up a large pick ax I had sitting against the wall. “Oh, I have been wanting to use this for awhile now.” I put it back behind my head and swung up and over, impaling it into his head. It was over, he was dead now and the torture couldn't continue. <span style="color:rgb(255,255,255);font-family:Arial;font-size:15px;line-height:1.15;white-space:pre-wrap;">Oh, I forgot to mention, I filmed the whole thing and sent it to the family. I labeled it my “Mine and Ted's fishing trip.” Since I told them the wrong location and a false name, and I wore a full suit in the video, there was nothing placing Conner at the scene, so I got off free of any convictions.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">My Last Kill:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">-This one wasn't very exciting, it was a very basic set up. I discreetly followed her home and hid in her backyard. I waited for her to fall asleep before breaking in. I made sure to make myself know. I broke the window, setting off the alarm. I then ran into the living room and started smashing their TV and blu-ray player. They came sprinting down the stairs-- Oh yeah, she was married or something-- And into. As soon as the husband stepped in, I smacked him in the head, knocking him on the ground. The wife let out a scream, quickly silenced by my aluminum bat in her face. I bashed in her husband's skull right in front of her. I then turned to her laughing. “Your next.” I walked over to her and picked her up by the collar and slammed her against the wall. I took the base of the handle and bashed on the top of the head with it. I did it until she stopped screaming and crying. I let her body slump to the floor with a loud thud. It was fun, but not special like Ted.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">My Next Kill:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:15px;font-family:Arial;color:#ffffff;font-weight:normal;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">-I never know who I'm going to kill next. It could be you, it could be your mom, could be your grandma. Just hope you never meet me, ever. If you ever meet a black-haired, brown-eyed man who seems extremely charming and nice, beware, it might be me. If you get a scary or suspicious vibe, just walk away. I won't be insulted, it means you've read my story, and that makes me happy. Anyways, I'm typing this on the computer of the couple I just murdered(yes the same ones in the last story, they had an extremely easy password, 123456, idiots), so the cops are going to have trouble finding me(Conner isn’t my name either). Well, I'll see in hell... Or the mall.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"> <ac_metadata title="My Favorite Pastime My darkest Creepy Pasta to date. Tell me what you think and all the fixes you can think of. (Re-post, it messed up the paragraphs on my original)"> </ac_metadata>