jnimri
October 28th, 2010, 06:13 PM
So I finally decided; it’s time to commit my first murder. You know, see if I can get away with it and all. I don’t have any particular ill will towards my fellow man, I just wanna see if I can get away with it. Some people wanna try sky diving or Indian food; I wanna try murder.
I haven’t put a lot of thought into who it’s gonna be, but I do know it’s gotta be a complete stranger. Too many times on T.V., I see those idiots who kill their wives or husbands and even kids; cops know immediately it’s someone in the family. No, I’m not gonna be that stupid.
I also think about how I’m going commit my first murder. I can’t use a gun cuz I’d have to use dad’s, (he’s the only person I know that owns a gun) and the police would probably be able to trace the bullet back to me using that fancy forensics science stuff. I could also try a knife but with my luck, I’d be afraid I’d cut myself in the process and leave some of that DNA junk. Not gonna risk that.
No, it’s gotta be something that wouldn’t normally be considered a murder weapon, but doesn’t require a lot of hands on interaction with my victim; I’m not that strong. To be quite honest with you, I don’t really want there to be a lot of blood either. Blood makes me sorta queasy.
My final rule is that it has to be a quick death. I don’t wanna give them the chance to scream and call attention to me and what’s going on; plus, I don’t want them to be able to escape. So it has to be a quick death, or at least knock them out quickly. I sit back and think for a few moments about the possibilities; they’re endless! After a few minutes, a smile slowly crosses my crooked teeth as I get the perfect idea.
Quietly I climb the metal ladder in the garage up to the thick, hot air of the attic. I rummage around until I find the box I’m searching for, labeled ‘David’. I pop the flaps of the card board box open and dig around until my hand claps around the metal and plastic body of the sling-shot. David got it for his ninth birthday four years ago. He’d be pissed if he knew I was taking it now. I don’t care though, his toy was gonna let me get away with my life’s dream. He’d never know the difference.
So yeah, I decided a rock with a sling-shot was the best way to go. No finger prints to be left behind, no serial numbers to track and no grooves left on the projectile to trace; plus, I’d be a safe distance away and hidden…this could work. Sure beats trying Indian food anyway.
I work my way back down the ladder and back into the house careful not to wake anyone. Back in my room, I throw on some sneakers and walk out the front door into the humid air of the night. The stars are twinkling high in the black canvas; the moon half hidden by gray clouds. The weather is perfect for my first murder. My heart flutters with the excitement as I begin my journey to the park behind the pool hall. All the teenagers use the park to cut through to the neighborhood that lays nestled deep in the woods of Loving Tennessee.
Quickly I run to a grove of bushes about ten feet from the worn path cutting its way through the grand daddy pines which are reaching for the sky. While I was hidden and waiting I searched the ground around me for the perfect collection of rocks. I would need a minimum of three; one to knock the unsuspecting person down, and two to finish the job.
Every now and then, groups of two or three or four would come walking noisily by. Boys pushing and tripping each other, or joking crudely or harassing some poor teen girl who was just using these boys to get safely home.
I waited patiently for just the single individual to come sauntering past; completely unaware of what was to happen. In the meantime, I searched for the perfect rocks; not too big and not too small.
It had to be close to closing time at the pool hall, so I was beginning to wonder if tonight was going to be the night after all. I had my stones, four of them to be exact; one extra just in case, so I decided to just wait patiently a little longer. The flutter of excitement in my stomach was gone. I was calm, cool and collected. I imagined myself as a Bond-like assassin; years of training behind me, all for this one righteous kill. I kinda liked this idea. I was a cool international assassin who killed the big drug dealers or mob bosses, big business hustlers or whatever. Yeah, I was something special. Finally after what really could have been minutes or hours, a single figure approached me from the West, just past the rear of the pool hall. His ‘crunch, crunch, crunch’ of the ground beneath his feet seemed loud in the silence of the night. He was whistling some awful tune that sounded vaguely familiar as he walked towards me. I couldn’t really tell who the person was, though I just assumed it was some teen-aged boy. Maybe it was some gang leader on his way back from a drug deal. Hell, I didn’t know and I didn’t really care. It made no difference to me, he was my Indian food.
I picked up the black and metallic sling-shot with my right hand, resting the wrist brace in its place on my arm. With the left, I picked up three of the four stones and shoved them in my front left jean pocket. When I was finished with that, I bent back down to scoop up the remaining rock and set it into the black leather pouch, which was attached to the ends of two yellow rubber tubes. I pinched the leather strap together, holding the flatter sides of the rock with my thumb and forefinger. I held myself in this position, squatting behind the bushes, waiting for this person to get close.
I hadn’t practiced with the weapon before now, but I figured, how hard can it be? Just pull back, aim and release. Only a few feet away, it would be hard to miss. On the remote chance that I didn’t hit my target, I was hidden, so I’d have the ability to get off the second shot and ‘my first’ would be none the wiser.
The familiar excited beat of my heart greeted the bones in my chest with a resounding thump thump…thump thump. I waited for My First to come within ten yards of the bushes before I stretched the yellow tubing. I pulled back on the rubber until my arms shook with the tension. The crunch of the ground beneath his footsteps grew closer; I could hear his labored breathing in the wet stickiness of the night.
I all but held my breath, giddy with the events unfolding before me. I wanted to laugh out loud, the power that coursed through my veins sent chills of exhilaration and anticipation throughout my body. I felt like God. I get to choose who lives and who dies. I get to be the one who takes life away.
My First was just steps away now; I flexed my legs and rose up a few inches. I lined My First's head between the two arms of the sling, leading ever so slightly. The soft whoosh of the rock sailing through air was probably all he heard. On my end was the crack of the rubber shooting the rock forward, and the dull thud of the stone connecting with the bone on the side of his skull. It was a symphony of melody in my ears. His body dropping limp to the earthen underbrush was the crescendo-ed ending to my masterpiece. He lay there motionless for just a few moments until I was sure of two things, 1.) That he was positively knocked out, and 2.) There were no other prying eyes around; I was clear. I sat my weapon of choice down on the ground, making a mental not to forget I laid it there, and stepped out from behind the bushes. I walked over to where the limp body lay and bent down to hook my arms through My First's arm pits. With all my strength, I dragged the lifeless lump back into the shadows, away from the trail.
I cursed at myself when I realized I probably shouldn’t have touched him; forensics crap. Nothing could be done about it now.
I kept my eyes purposefully away from My First's face. I didn’t particularly care to know who I killed, especially if the police came knocking about. So I dutifully moved him back to my hiding spot, away from stragglers that might come walking down this path, and picked up the sling-shot where I had left it. Now it was time to finish the job. Some people try rock climbing or hang gliding, I try murder.
I retrieved one of the stones from my pocket and repeated the process of readying the projectile. As I stood poised, ready to release my grip on the leather strap, point blank into the face of My First, his eyes fluttered open. I pulled back harder on the yellow rubber, determined to shut his eyes forever when suddenly my gaze focused on the face before me.
One hot tear dropped heavily from my eye and splashed violently on the red cheek of ‘my first’.
“David.” I said quietly. With that single word, I released my hold and let forth fly, with all of its energy, that one rock. I wouldn’t need the extras after all.
You should never be like one of those idiots on T.V. who kill their wives or husbands or even kids. They always get caught.
I haven’t put a lot of thought into who it’s gonna be, but I do know it’s gotta be a complete stranger. Too many times on T.V., I see those idiots who kill their wives or husbands and even kids; cops know immediately it’s someone in the family. No, I’m not gonna be that stupid.
I also think about how I’m going commit my first murder. I can’t use a gun cuz I’d have to use dad’s, (he’s the only person I know that owns a gun) and the police would probably be able to trace the bullet back to me using that fancy forensics science stuff. I could also try a knife but with my luck, I’d be afraid I’d cut myself in the process and leave some of that DNA junk. Not gonna risk that.
No, it’s gotta be something that wouldn’t normally be considered a murder weapon, but doesn’t require a lot of hands on interaction with my victim; I’m not that strong. To be quite honest with you, I don’t really want there to be a lot of blood either. Blood makes me sorta queasy.
My final rule is that it has to be a quick death. I don’t wanna give them the chance to scream and call attention to me and what’s going on; plus, I don’t want them to be able to escape. So it has to be a quick death, or at least knock them out quickly. I sit back and think for a few moments about the possibilities; they’re endless! After a few minutes, a smile slowly crosses my crooked teeth as I get the perfect idea.
Quietly I climb the metal ladder in the garage up to the thick, hot air of the attic. I rummage around until I find the box I’m searching for, labeled ‘David’. I pop the flaps of the card board box open and dig around until my hand claps around the metal and plastic body of the sling-shot. David got it for his ninth birthday four years ago. He’d be pissed if he knew I was taking it now. I don’t care though, his toy was gonna let me get away with my life’s dream. He’d never know the difference.
So yeah, I decided a rock with a sling-shot was the best way to go. No finger prints to be left behind, no serial numbers to track and no grooves left on the projectile to trace; plus, I’d be a safe distance away and hidden…this could work. Sure beats trying Indian food anyway.
I work my way back down the ladder and back into the house careful not to wake anyone. Back in my room, I throw on some sneakers and walk out the front door into the humid air of the night. The stars are twinkling high in the black canvas; the moon half hidden by gray clouds. The weather is perfect for my first murder. My heart flutters with the excitement as I begin my journey to the park behind the pool hall. All the teenagers use the park to cut through to the neighborhood that lays nestled deep in the woods of Loving Tennessee.
Quickly I run to a grove of bushes about ten feet from the worn path cutting its way through the grand daddy pines which are reaching for the sky. While I was hidden and waiting I searched the ground around me for the perfect collection of rocks. I would need a minimum of three; one to knock the unsuspecting person down, and two to finish the job.
Every now and then, groups of two or three or four would come walking noisily by. Boys pushing and tripping each other, or joking crudely or harassing some poor teen girl who was just using these boys to get safely home.
I waited patiently for just the single individual to come sauntering past; completely unaware of what was to happen. In the meantime, I searched for the perfect rocks; not too big and not too small.
It had to be close to closing time at the pool hall, so I was beginning to wonder if tonight was going to be the night after all. I had my stones, four of them to be exact; one extra just in case, so I decided to just wait patiently a little longer. The flutter of excitement in my stomach was gone. I was calm, cool and collected. I imagined myself as a Bond-like assassin; years of training behind me, all for this one righteous kill. I kinda liked this idea. I was a cool international assassin who killed the big drug dealers or mob bosses, big business hustlers or whatever. Yeah, I was something special. Finally after what really could have been minutes or hours, a single figure approached me from the West, just past the rear of the pool hall. His ‘crunch, crunch, crunch’ of the ground beneath his feet seemed loud in the silence of the night. He was whistling some awful tune that sounded vaguely familiar as he walked towards me. I couldn’t really tell who the person was, though I just assumed it was some teen-aged boy. Maybe it was some gang leader on his way back from a drug deal. Hell, I didn’t know and I didn’t really care. It made no difference to me, he was my Indian food.
I picked up the black and metallic sling-shot with my right hand, resting the wrist brace in its place on my arm. With the left, I picked up three of the four stones and shoved them in my front left jean pocket. When I was finished with that, I bent back down to scoop up the remaining rock and set it into the black leather pouch, which was attached to the ends of two yellow rubber tubes. I pinched the leather strap together, holding the flatter sides of the rock with my thumb and forefinger. I held myself in this position, squatting behind the bushes, waiting for this person to get close.
I hadn’t practiced with the weapon before now, but I figured, how hard can it be? Just pull back, aim and release. Only a few feet away, it would be hard to miss. On the remote chance that I didn’t hit my target, I was hidden, so I’d have the ability to get off the second shot and ‘my first’ would be none the wiser.
The familiar excited beat of my heart greeted the bones in my chest with a resounding thump thump…thump thump. I waited for My First to come within ten yards of the bushes before I stretched the yellow tubing. I pulled back on the rubber until my arms shook with the tension. The crunch of the ground beneath his footsteps grew closer; I could hear his labored breathing in the wet stickiness of the night.
I all but held my breath, giddy with the events unfolding before me. I wanted to laugh out loud, the power that coursed through my veins sent chills of exhilaration and anticipation throughout my body. I felt like God. I get to choose who lives and who dies. I get to be the one who takes life away.
My First was just steps away now; I flexed my legs and rose up a few inches. I lined My First's head between the two arms of the sling, leading ever so slightly. The soft whoosh of the rock sailing through air was probably all he heard. On my end was the crack of the rubber shooting the rock forward, and the dull thud of the stone connecting with the bone on the side of his skull. It was a symphony of melody in my ears. His body dropping limp to the earthen underbrush was the crescendo-ed ending to my masterpiece. He lay there motionless for just a few moments until I was sure of two things, 1.) That he was positively knocked out, and 2.) There were no other prying eyes around; I was clear. I sat my weapon of choice down on the ground, making a mental not to forget I laid it there, and stepped out from behind the bushes. I walked over to where the limp body lay and bent down to hook my arms through My First's arm pits. With all my strength, I dragged the lifeless lump back into the shadows, away from the trail.
I cursed at myself when I realized I probably shouldn’t have touched him; forensics crap. Nothing could be done about it now.
I kept my eyes purposefully away from My First's face. I didn’t particularly care to know who I killed, especially if the police came knocking about. So I dutifully moved him back to my hiding spot, away from stragglers that might come walking down this path, and picked up the sling-shot where I had left it. Now it was time to finish the job. Some people try rock climbing or hang gliding, I try murder.
I retrieved one of the stones from my pocket and repeated the process of readying the projectile. As I stood poised, ready to release my grip on the leather strap, point blank into the face of My First, his eyes fluttered open. I pulled back harder on the yellow rubber, determined to shut his eyes forever when suddenly my gaze focused on the face before me.
One hot tear dropped heavily from my eye and splashed violently on the red cheek of ‘my first’.
“David.” I said quietly. With that single word, I released my hold and let forth fly, with all of its energy, that one rock. I wouldn’t need the extras after all.
You should never be like one of those idiots on T.V. who kill their wives or husbands or even kids. They always get caught.