Killer

I staggered through the dark tunnel, grimacing over knowing what I was about to do. What I was about to do with the frosty handle that I grasped— and the glimmering blade it was connected to. I could feel the pain of my urge but never had a second thought … I was drowning in hate. The all-too-familiar doorknob got bigger and it was still stained with specks of dirt and rust.
Something was making me shake violently. I realized it was my own pounding heart. Perhaps it was itching for a beam of joy in it’s blackened confinement.
The the scratched bronze “21” labelling the door was right above my eyes, red with anger.
There was nothing left to do.
I slowly twisted the cursed knob. The blanket was pulled off and I saw the one I hated sitting, blissfully gazing at the flickering television. His insults still plagued me as I stepped towards him.
Suddenly, his head swiveled and panic was obvious in his scowl. He still stared at me but I couldn’t see that face any longer.
The next thing I knew, blood splattered over my knife and mottled my shirt and I was running. But I couldn’t rush through the tunnel, victory road, so I slowed to a cool amble.
A slight smile spread across my face as my fingers numbed from clutching the handle. But it there was no pain anymore inside. It was just relief. And a smirking demon, driving me.

Killer

notculpable

Joined January 2008

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Artist's Description

For the Short Stories competition.

Artwork Comments

  • Sam Mortimer
  • Damian
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