"I've been writing for three years now. I write crime Stories.
I have one book so far (Flash of the blade) and I am working on a second (My Killing Lifestyle. Unfortunately unpublished but one day I hope to be."
Here is the first chapter to MY KILLING LIFESTYLE.
How much fun would it be to kill someone? That was always one of my thoughts, until I did it of course. Since I lived in London
For a little over two years now I’ve been getting away with murder. The satisfaction of hearing the sharp short blast of the gun was never going to get old. I remember my first kill. In actual fact I knew the guy. He was a “friend” or in my eyes an arrogant prick. He always thought he was better than everyone else. Always sprouting crap from his mouth which everyone disapproved of. It was either racist comments or sick and twisted jokes. Because he was such an idiot, I decided it was time someone taught him a lesson so I blew his brains out.
He had invited me round for a God awful coffee at his flat.
“Theirs nothing like the black stuff” was his favourite line.
I’d sat down on his three seated, tatty, leather sofa, whilst he was sat in his “oh so posh” computer chair opposite, that had a tendency to change its height whenever it damn well pleased.
He went on for hours and hours about how he was the best at everything as normal. But this time it was going to be different. Usually I’d sit there and listen to his lies, sometimes I’d even humour him and go along with him and play the fool. Just so he could have a little bit of happiness I suppose. Not this time. I didn’t want to stand for it. So I didn’t. I pulled out my sleek black 9mm and shot him in the foot. The prick screamed and then cried for about ten minutes. While I sat there smiling and thinking to myself like a child would.
“Wow that is so cool”
As any child would right?
My friend looked at me. He was drenched in tears and tightly gripping his foot. He asked me something.
“What the hell did you do that for?”
I told him as anyone would.
“Well I was thinking earlier it was going to be fun to shoot someone. But in all honesty your whining is spoiling all my fun. You are really doing my head in” at which point I shot him again. This time it was his other foot, twice.
He screamed even more. Then like a pathetic loser that he is he started whining
“Help me”
By that point I decided I’d had enough fun. So I put the gun up to his head and pulled the trigger. Well that certainly stopped him claiming he was the best.
I got out the chair and headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I can’t remember what the room looked like in all fairness. Oh well. Not really important. I left his Flat and went home.
That was my first ever bit of fun. As I was saying before it was about two years ago now. I can’t remember how many I’ve killed. What does it matter anyway? They’re dead and I am not.
My lifestyle has kept me happy. Isn’t that what is so important these days? To try and keep ourselves happy? So I’ve killed a few people. What a shame. The media is so messed up right now that my murders don’t even hit the headlines. There is the war in Iraq , hacking scandals, and just for a twist, two people in Canada
That’s why I have my killing lifestyle.
My second murder in my ‘career’ if you like was a little different. The girl I killed had an unhealthy addiction to guns. She loved them. She wanted one. She thought it would be amazing to have a few bullets in her so if she went through a metal scanner at a court or an airport she’d look in effect bullet proof for not dieing. So I thought why not help her with this crazy ambition. I shot her in the leg. Put two bullets in her arm. Then I killed her. I put three bullets into her chest. She didn’t say she wanted to be alive when she got scanned.
I had so much fun killing her especially when she screamed at me to stop shooting. She had a load of panic in her voice but you know what. It’s her own fault she’s dead.
If you’re going to say stupid things and you’re going to have crazy ambitions in life you need to be punished for them.
That’s what my parents said to me up until six months ago. They made the mistake of stating something stupid. They said it would be cool to meet a murderer. They wanted to know why killers killed.
I told them it was a stupid statement to make.
They gave me some verbal abuse for back chatting them so I put two clips of ammunition into both of them.
Even though they were dead I made them a cup of tea. It’s the thought that counts.
I cleaned myself up in their bathroom and proceeded back into the living room where their dead bodies lay. With the amount of bullet holes I put in them I was rather surprised they didn’t look like Swiss cheese. I put a film on to watch while I drank my cup of tea and eventually left.
Ok that takes my body count up to four. Did anyone speak about it? No of course not. No news coverage at all. That was my next goal. I had to kill a news reporter. And I did it. Reasonably well and surprise-surprise the incident was reported. It was a foolish mistake on my part but I got away with it. It was quite cool I blew two holes in his head while he was doing a live report outside a hospital that had been mistreating patients. Obviously a pistol wasn’t going to do that. I’d finally got my hands on a rifle a few weeks before I killed him. I’ve got to be honest I was frightened for my life after the reporters death. I can’t remember too much about it but I do know there were loads of cops in the area. I ditched the rifle in a nearby field. The police found it. They still haven’t found me though.
Eight months on after the news reporter’s death I’d killed a few more people. Not quite sure of the numbers. They obviously weren’t that fun. The final killing I will tell you about will surely make you happy. It made me happy. I was so happy I quit killing people afterwards.
The killing I’m going to tell you about happened last month.
I was on my way to the job centre. I’d run myself out of money. I needed to either find a job or at least sign on.
I had an interview with a lady called Debbie Solomon. She was on the second floor of the job centre. I still had my 9mm on me. Just in case the police came to pay me a visit in town. I may not have been caught yet but they will find me.
Anyway I’d gone in to the job centre and handed over my interview letter I received through the post a few days beforehand. Sure enough they said I was on the second floor and I was seeing Debbie Solomon. They signed me in. obviously standard procedure just in case of a fire alarm.
I headed up the narrow staircase up to the second floor. It was packed. It was horribly warm in there and I distinctly remember some guy in the corner arguing to a woman about his right to money. What an idiot. He was clearly having ago at the wrong people. Besides who in their right mind would argue about a hundred pounds a week from the government? What is the point?
I sat down and waited to be seen to. I could hear some headphones blasting out music from the other side of the room. Another young person thinking they are all it. What a prick.
My name was called out from somewhere behind me. It was the same woman who was just having an argument with the guy I mentioned. I walked over there and sat down.
“So what makes you think you should be on benefits?” she asked.
Now I must admit she did seem a bit too forward. This was slightly annoying. I mean who gave her any right to be so blunt?
“I’ve run out of money. I have no food. And I haven’t got a job” I thought that would be enough to make her calm her tone.
“So you over eat? Over spend and you are lazy?” she replied
“I beg your pardon?” I paused “how dare you speak to me like a piece of trash” I was furious. She seemed crazy.
“Well sir I do have a job and you don’t. Explain that to me”
That was the final nail in the coffin. I flipped. I couldn’t take it. She had to go.
I pulled out the gun and shot her square in the head. Panic struck the room they all started running. One by one I picked them off whilst running myself to blend in people were falling down the stairs. By pure clumsiness and me shooting them. I reloaded my gun by the time everyone reached the first floor. This was amazing I loved it. There were people screaming. People acting like a bunch of 5 year olds when they get stung by a bee. And the noise of my gun was amplified. Bang, dead, bang, dead. It was perfect. I knew from that day I wouldn’t have to kill again. I had reached proper fun. I put my gun away by the time myself and the screaming idiots had reached the lobby. Everyone ran outside and went off in their separate ways. I on the other hand calmly walked across the road and got on a bus that had just pulled up. That was perfect timing. I gave the bus drive a few pounds and I was then on my way home.
That was the last time I killed. The next person I kill will be me. There isn’t a world for me to live in now. I’m too paranoid to do anything. I know that any time soon police will crash through my front door in search of a murderer. Hopefully they will read this. Hopefully they will understand the importance of me killing so many people. It was my enjoyment. It was what I needed in life. And now I’ll take it to the grave with me unless this is found. Actually come to think about it I should have killed my doctor for lying to me. He had prescribed me some tablets, not too sure hat for now it has been two years. He said they would make me better, again I'm still not sure what he meant. I'm going to kill him. How dare he prescribe me shit that I dont need telling me it would make me feel better. maybe I'll use a different weapon maybe just maybe I will continue killing. I had loads of fun. why stop now?
No comments:
Post a Comment