Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25378619-20140904225230

Since im having trouble with submiting this story I thought why not posting it here first. Just like my character i'm not a native english speaker, but I did my best so I hope it's "readable".

Also, it's part one, since it's real time story i'm also posting (mainly) on reddit/nosleep so the next chapters come later this month to make it more realistic.

Hello, Reddit. Before I move on to the main part of my story I must have you know that if anybody deserved to die, it was that scum. I presume that many of you, dear readers, will want to call the police. However, I am well prepared and hiding beneath the veil of a TOR network, just in case. Many of you will despise me, call me a monster, a beast, a mere murderer. Still, I needed solace, the judgment and the guiding light that would show me the way after what I’ve been through. No monster is born with razor sharp fangs and claws. They are born unfeathered and would do anything to become “normal” again, as would I.

I was born in eastern Europe and lived there for almost my entire life. For the purpose of this story and website (to protect my identity), I have taken the name Richard. So, allow me to be more official now:

My name is Richard, I try to speak English and my life started to turn into hell around two years ago.

That would be exactly thirty months ago when I received my Visa. There was no end to our (mine and my wife’s – Cheryl) rejoicing. We never, in fact, felt poverty, from time to time we could easily afford to go on a shopping spree, travel or do some renovations in our house. We were just enchanted with the States, especially Alaska. The plan was simple – make some money, bring Cheryl to the US and build our new home in the North where we could live peaceful lives among bears, salmon and gold miners. I didn’t need much time for preparations, but I was quite worried about my English, its grammar and accent. Of course we had English courses in school, but I never went abroad before and ever had chance to test it in reality. Cheryl kept convincing me that in few months I will master the arcane of foreign language. She also considered my accent sexy.

Sex. Of course we had sex before we said, “See you soon,” to each other. It was long and passionate, our bodies were acting like magnets that don’t want to ever separate. Luckily (or sadly), brain once again dominated over hearts and souls and before I know it I was sitting on the airplane beside some wannabe rapper, who just wouldn’t shut up.

I turned to the side, closed my eyes and imagined Cheryl’s long, brown hair, her big, grey and trusting eyes with a note of sweet sadness and her ivory velvet skin. I wish I could’ve heard her calm voice right then instead of the young 50cent wannabe, cursing every time he failed to find a proper rhyme.

I’m not going to bore you with the details of my life in America. I’ve found a new job in IT with ease, but because I was overwhelmed with coding I just could not find time to polish my English or to socialize. My career ended when I received a call from Europe.

It was Cheryl announcing with trembling voice that she was pregnant. I could hear that she was excited but at the same time unsure about my reaction. We never really talked about having kids, in fact we rather hated them, but it all changes when you have your own little creature, am I right? All I said was that I love her and I’m coming back as soon as it’s possible. She was waiting for me at the airport. Underneath her black sweater you could easily see that she was indeed pregnant. Also, she dyed her hair red, blood red, as I always had a thing for such hair. She welcomed me with glowing smile and her arms wide open. I touched her belly and she said ‘My dearest, you’ll have a son’.

My firstborn… I was still stunned with the situation, so she was the one that pulled out every detail from me about my life in states. The opportunity was perfect, I managed to save some money and decided to take her out to the most expensive restaurant for celebration and to talk about our future in a romantic atmosphere. I put on my best suit while she decided to wear a green, velvet dress that perfectly matched her skin and hair. She reminded me of the Poison Ivy, the villain from Batman universe. She knew that I don’t like any fanciful hairstyles so she just waved her hair enough to reveal her buttocks that was normally hidden under the cascade of hair.

It was drizzling that evening, but the restaurant was barely 500 meters away from our place so we decided to take a little walk, breathing in the fresh air and holding hands. I’m still regretting this decision.

We were standing by the crosswalk waiting for the green light when my cellphone rang. As I was checking the screen I heard that the light turned green but I was too busy with the phone at this moment. Cheryl, my sweet Cheryl, paid the highest price for her reflexes. It was all happening in a slow motion. I heard the screech of tires ringing through my eardrums, then I saw the love of my life flying above the black BMW. She hit the asphalt with deaf sound a few meters away. I dropped the phone and broke into run to Cheryl. I brutally bit my lip when I saw the bones puncturing her ivory velvet skin. I fell to my knees when I saw her long, thick, red hair that now turned into a chaotic mess of mud and blood. I bellowed out when I saw the agony in her face. I descended into madness when she died in my arms and her big, grey, trusting eyes coldly stared into me.

I went through the funeral and the trial in the firm embrace of madness. I was an empty shell, a gaping pit ready to swallow all light. That little shit, the sixteen year old boy without a driver’s license, drove the car he stole from his father under the influence of drugs. His father was a prosecutor, so it was swept it under the curtain and he became a free man again because of his young age. When I found out about it, all those emotions struck back at me with multiplied force, my heart, soul and body could not take it anymore. I left my job, I could stare for days at a blank wall, I cried and self-mutilated myself in hope that I would cross the line and end my life. The only thing that kept me alive was the thirst for revenge. When I couldn’t cry anymore my mind was occupied with everlasting thought about it. I was always fascinated with medieval times and torture, and I imagined every single thing I would do to the teenager when I got to him. My feral urge became obsessive, but with smart planning. I was observing him for nights and days, I learned his habits, I knew everything, who he was meeting, who he was fucking, where he was buying drugs and alcohol, I even knew when he was taking a shit. Everything.

And, most importantly, I discovered a place where he was all alone. The kid was taking part in some occult thing, he would go to the forest far, far away from civilization and drug himself beyond limits. Like a tiger I was following my prey, I got to know every moss he was stepping on and the exact place of his rituals.

August 27th: I’m in the woods 3 days before his expected appearance. I’m fixing quasi-satanic ornaments, runes and writings. I’m setting up snares. I’m crying.

August 28th: I’m sharpening hunting knives. I’m doing pushups and squats to ready my body. I’m crying.

August 29th: I’m hesitating. I’m talking to Cheryl. She’s not answering. I’m crying.

August 30th: I’m crying.

August 31th. I’m waiting for my prey in the woods. I feel my cloths soaked with morning dew. I freeze on spot taking a breath three, maybe four times per minute. I’m patient and ready. I hear steps getting closer and closer. I can already smell the sweet scent of the blood that will fulfill the summer air in just minutes. I hear my wife’s killer’s steps and sound of rope clutching his ankle.

I can’t hear anything right know. I drop my knives and like a mere predator I jump onto my prey, clawing out his eyes and biting him wherever I feel like. I scratched, I bit and I growled. His body was squirming, blood was gushing from his wounds, staining the green grass like my wife’s dress. The boy’s muscles finally gave up under my teeth.

I killed. I’m admiring the painting I created, the human was my canvas. I’m admiring the sculpture I created, the human was my marble. I’m not crying anymore.

September 1st: I’m sitting calm on my couch watching soap operas. I’m casting my mind back the previous day while drinking wine. Obviously I did not forget about covering my tracks and traces. I burned the body, chopped it and threw it to the acid contained in plastic boxes, then buried them in dozen places. As a token of remembrance I spared only the head, of course after making sure that there is no biological traces of me on it.

I spared the head as a token of remembrance… Cheryl, I love you as much as I miss you. I’m starting to forget your face even though I was looking at it for years. I want to live, but life is so empty without you. I’m starting to forget your face… I spared the head as a token of remembrance…

September 2nd: I log on to reddit for the first time. As I was writing my story I listened to the Silent Hill soundtrack. I always liked horrors and I found comfort in them after I lost everything. I can already see those headlines in newspapers. “Man on rampage after playing video games.” “Silent Hill – Cradle of Forest,” is playing on my speakers. I hesitate to post the story. What if I get caught? Am I ready to spend the rest of my life in the jail? “Silent Hill – Waiting for you,” is playing on my speakers. Are you waiting for me Cheryl? Or am I waiting for you? I spared the head as a token of remembrance… I order mannequin head on Ebay. I’m going to make it up to resemble Cheryl. Cheryl, my sweetest Cheryl, I will never forget your face. I will be always by your side.

I can’t wait for the delivery man to bring me Cheryl.

“Silent Hill – Room of Angel,” is playing on my speakers. Will you be my angel, Cheryl? 