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Member
Join Date: Jun 2004
Posts: 20
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The Love of The Job (Horror)
Is there ever really any harm in killing? That’s the question I ask myself each time I clean after yet another satisfying job. It’s not easy you know, cleansing the world of its filth––all that festering rubbish that has corroded the minds and souls so many of our poor unfortunate youths. But who else is there? Who else cares enough to make the stand?––to make the change? I fear, no one! I and I alone, stand tall and strong in my efforts to make life better for all that is good.
So here I stand, at the washbasin deep in the heart of my basement shop, cleaning the tools of my trade for the fifth time this week, and it’s only Wednesday. The Mrs., who spends most of her time cleaning the pen and feeding the pigs, pretends not to notice all the good I’ve done, but I know she sees––oh yes! She sees all the good my work’s done for this neighborhood––who in their right mind wouldn’t? And I’m far from finished; my work may never end; there’s so much filth––so much darkness––so much insanity.
Oh, all those poor fools, living day-to-day, hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck; they just don’t have the love for their work, as I do. I am one of the lucky few, I suppose. I awaken each morning to the sound of my own inner alarm clock; I jolt from my bed to a whole list of jobs waiting to be done and the eager will to conquer each and every one of them. Who else can say this with such pride––such honor and dignity, as I can––and do? Not you, I’m afraid.
Still, so many call me crazy. I’m a nut––a mad man, that’s what you say, when you should be recognizing me as a saint! You just don’t understand; you don’t see––You can’t! I am a gift from God. I am the one who has the ultimate power to see the good, and the very bad, in you. My list grows more quickly these days, but not by my hand; for it is the hand of God that does the deed. Call me what you will, just pray you’re name never shows itself upon my list.
So much work to be done––will it never end? I must hurry along now; must pick up the pace. Some may think they’re blessed with the gift of sight, but I know I am the only truly gifted seer of faith. I am the one, and the only true testament of holy sainthood; graced by the mighty hands of the Lord. None other can do as I do, none other can see as I see, none other, none.
I work alone. The Lord guides my feet as I walk the path––it is the path of righteousness––the path of holy valor. I disappear into the shadows and watch as the dark aura steps from the roaring car unto the sidewalk. There it waits for another. This aura is dreadfully charred––blackened to the core––it burns at my retinas––etching at my very brain; I swiftly veil my eyes with the shades of the Lord. I spy upon it through the dense foliage of this––God’s bush, and as I do, I ready my mind for the act of the cleansing. Patiently I await the signal––God’s signal. The timing now is entirely beyond my rein, and if not preceded with the utmost caution and blessed perfection, the risk of damnation is eminent. I mustn’t fail. I fear that which gives me strength.
It is dark. The moon cast its heavenly glow upon the murky streets of Phillip Square. I am ready to fulfill my Lords service on this night. Into the darkness I blend, disappearing into the slightest of shadows. With God’s hand I forged this––my suit of the dark. I am but a shadow hiding within a shadow, guided by God’s will, unseen by man.
For nearly three dreadfully long days it has rained unyieldingly upon this wretched town, but now, right this very moment, it has stopped. This is God’s will––his signal. It is time. The traffic at this hour is typically low––nearly nonexistent most times, but right now there is no one––just it––the aura of darkness––the sin to be cleansed. The street lamps are dim. One flickers uncontrollably, casting a strobe effect upon the reflective surface of the wet street. I emerge from the dark foliage and lurk without a sound towards the beast through the Lord’s veil of mystery.
The motionless puddles lay silently in the calming of the storm. I tiptoe cautiously closer; it rests upon an iron lamppost, waiting for yet another passerby to stop and offer more sinful money. I am close now––so very close, I can smell the reek emanating from the beast; slowly I creep from behind. It is silent––hauntingly so––numbingly so. I pull the damp cloth from the plastic sheaf I keep within my breast pocket and reach up from behind, swiftly forcing the cloth upon its maw, and quickly catching its disgusting body as it falls unconscious.
Hastily I pull it from the street and into the shadows from which I came. There waits a special vehicle. It is a vehicle designed for me by God, specially crafted for my divine work. The cleansing begins right here, right now. Swiftly I raise the rear hatch of this modified station wagon. It looks so indistinguishable from any other wagon you might see passing you by on the streets. But in the back of this––God’s wagon, is where the cleansing process begins. As you can see, lots of divine innovation went into this vehicle. What’s that you say? Precisely my point! The interior looks like little more than your average car interior. But it’s what you don’t see that makes it divine. The design is brilliant! No one would ever suspect it to be any more than what it appears to be, but when the hatch closes, the walls and doors seal; the entire enclosure becomes a watertight tub. I toss it––the unconscious dark aura––inside and quickly close the hatch. Then quickly into the drivers seat I go, and we drive.
The highways the quickest way, daddy always said, but I like them old country back roads––the ones less traveled. It’s back in them woods off the old 101, where the Lord set up my cleansing shop. Not as nicely done as my basement shop back home, but further away from town. It is the best way to keep the filth from reentering the system. Once cleansed the leftover waste must be properly disposed of. That’s where the pigs come in; they play the most vital role in the cleansing.
The Lord told me the way. The physical body must be properly cleansed and then the rest is left to them––the swine. The Lord speaks to me; he does so often: in his heavenly voice he declares, send them into the swine so that they may enter them, and the demons shall drown within the heavenly waters of a cleansed earth and the world of man shall be saved, and you will be graced with the gift of eternal life.
I reach over, still keeping my eye on the road, and open the glove box. Inside are switches––the switches to my cleansing tanks. I flip up the first switch. I listen for the pump, it powers up, and quickly the cleansing fluid begins to pump into the tub. Everything’s working like a charm. The dark aura jumps and spasms, and begins to scream––they always scream at this point. The act of cleansing isn’t always painless, you know. Just listen to those demons getting ready to be expelled.
After precisely two minutes, I flip up the second switch. The second pump fires up and more fluid rushes into the tub. This time there is far less screams, but they’re there. If you listen closely you can hear them––there! There’s one, see, all is going as planned. A loud sucking sound fills the cab as the fluid is drained from the tub. The monitor on the dash assures me that all is well. The body still lives. The body must live. This is critical to the success of the cleansing. If the body dies, the demon passes to another.
The rain has started once more, but that’s not a problem––no, not at all. We are almost there. I pull off of the dark country road onto a very well hidden dirt road, heavily concealed in dense foliage. It is nearly impossible to see in here, even with the headlights of my car on high. The brush is so thick, the road so very narrow, it resembles more a path than a road. It’s not very long, only a few hundred yards. At the end of the road the foliage splits into a clearing, and there at the center, rests my Lord’s shop.
I back up to the door, which is open and waiting. I very quickly exit the cab and open the rear hatch. As the hatch swings up reveling the dark aura, I see that things appear to be very much under control and moving along perfectly. The first stage is complete and has flawlessly passed. The outer shell of the beast has been cleansed. It’s a beautiful thing––the human body––once the dirty top layers have been removed. Skin is a lustful organ. Once gone the body is suddenly rid of that sick lustful sin that dooms weak men to damnation. Look at this creature’s wonderful body. It has its innocence again. No longer a filthy cancer walking the streets. But we are far from finished. Oh no, the cleansing has just begun.
I lift the trembling body from the tub and place it into the wheel barrel, which I keep waiting and ready by the door. I cart the body swiftly, but oh so carefully to the center of the room and dump it upon the concrete floor. It releases a loud guttural sigh then groans all so softly––eerily mournful. Its eyes gawk upon me, they’re dry and bloodshot red. The lids cleansed away with the rest of the lust. It is now that I many times must remind myself of the duty I am fulfilling for God. It is all too easy, to look into those eyes and think, what if I am wrong. But don’t be foolishness. I know what I do is right and have God as my witness.
For my own bit of comfort though, I place a small potato sack over its head. Sometimes when I do, they attempt to speak, though their words are meaningless. They speak in demonic tongue––a language unknown by me. I speak, nor hear, no evil. I grab my box of tools and ready myself for the next phase of the cleansing. I place the knives and the saw upon the metal table, which is on wheels. I roll the table towards the body, and then go to the large basin on the back wall. I flip a switch, and listen for the generator. It fires up at once, as it always does, blessed by God. The basin then begins to fill with the last batch of cleansing fluid.
I then return to the body, which now lay spasmodic on the floor. I grab for the knife. It is a very heavy––very long knife, about two feet in length––it needs to be this way, for the job it performs is grave. I lift the knife high above my head and with one flail stroke I remove the right leg of the beast. Horrific screams wail from its gullet. This is the messy part. The tainted blood swiftly expels from the body, but this does little to stop the demon that possesses it. The body twitches. Still it cries. The screams are dreadful, but I know within my heart, it is with good cause. This poor soul will be released to God upon its cleansing.
I raise the knife above my head once more and swiftly sever the remaining leg. Again the screams howl, though they are weaker this time. The blood spills more quickly; collecting in the pool of cauterized blood, which forms around my feet. I begin then to sense that the demon’s hold on this troubled soul is lifting. The cleansing is working!
I grab the disengaged legs from the blood sudden floor and toss them into the basin, which is now flowing over with fluid. I flip the switch off, stopping the pump. Then I gaze at the body; still it twitches, but the screaming has stopped. Not even a moan brushes my ears. I must work more quickly if I am to finish before it expires.
I rush toward the body and quickly remove both arms with that same knife, and then I sever the head carefully with the saw. Every piece is then thoroughly washed and rinsed in the cleansing fluid, and then hung upon meat hooks, where they are left to dry, strategically placed above the basin. While they do so, I flip on the final switch and grab the scrub-brush, which I have affixed at the end of a long pole. Suddenly a large amount of foamy water is pumped into the center of the room, and the blood, which has puddled on the floor, is washed down the drain.
Now, the final phase of the cleansing is about to be initiated. My job here is just about through. Soon it will be time to move on to the next name on the list. But now I simply throw the thoroughly dried remains into the grinder out behind the shop and take the feed back home to the pen. Oh how they love the feasts the Mrs. blesses upon them, and it’s all in a days work. Now I prepare once again for the next cleansing.
So many on my list, it’s an endless list. And it keeps growing. Each and every day I see new names just appear upon the page. I can’t catch up and don’t think I would want to if I could. For what would I do––what would I be, if not for my job?––My divine job graced me by God.
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