Blood Stains On My Hands - Body Count 86

After spending the past few nights with Candace, I stayed at home last night. When I laid down I tossed and turned for several hours. Finally giving up on my losing struggle I grabbed some of my tools and headed out to catch a train. I hadn't intended to start slaughtering cattle this soon but my compulsion got the the better of me. My journey took me to the edge of the Galleria, an area called Green Meadows. It's one of those horribly cheerful names they give to poor neighborhoods that surround affluent areas. Green Meadows isn't bad at all, it just looks terrible by comparison. It's a neighborhood of racial and cultural diversity that doesn't exist in the Galleria. While sitting on the train a young Latino girl caught my attention. She was on her way home from work. Judging by her uniform she worked for one of the airlines, probably at a reservation desk due to her lack of luggage. I noticed a small gold crucifix adorning her neck. It had slipped out from the open button at the top of her dress shirt. I've never understood the cattle and their fascination with religion. It has pacified them into the thoughtless beasts they are today. When our train pulled to a stop I could see the lights from the Galleria. The shined brightly from the towering buildings. The girl and a few other cattle pressed out of the car and I followed. She broke away from the herd and headed towards the commuter lot. I followed her as quietly as possible. My soft soled shoes helped, but with the stillness around us any noise would have spooked her. I noticed a few cameras around the lot but as dark as it was and with my hat I wasn't particularly concerned. The girl found her way to a late model blue Honda. As she unlocked her car and opened the door I quickly swooped in behind her. I restrained her hand from pushing her panic button and grabbed her by the hair, slamming her head violently against the roof. The impact dazed her enough to drop her keys and lose her balance. I pushed her forward into the car and flipped her over to look at her face. Her eyes widened in terror. After going so long without seeing that look it was practically orgasmic. She tried to struggle but I had her pinned down pretty well. With my hand over her mouth I started to work her flesh with my knife. It's amazing how easy it is to shave flesh with a sharp blade. It's almost like slicing cheese. Skin and meat peeled away from her young face and I reached bone and teeth in no time. Blood, tears and saliva covered her face and seat. She was beginning to hyperventilate, her eyes as big as saucers. I started to wonder if she was praying. I wonder if she lost her faith when divine intervention didn't stop me from plunging my knife into her chest. She didn't last long after that. Her breath became shallow and finally ceased as her eyes went dead. It wasn't one of my better efforts but I slept like a rock when I got home.

Caught a glimpse of the news in between pointless Monday production meetings. They've released the identity of the girl. They also released some of the details about her murder. Curiously, they omitted certain key facts about her death, in particular her missing eyes. Probably some sort of filter to screen out the cattle that want to call in and take credit for my work. Let them have it. The glory is not in accolades or recognition, but in the work itself.

Aftermath - 2

Television woke me up this morning. Must have fallen asleep with it on. It would seem they found the girl quicker than I anticipated. I didn't think she would be found until after the weekend. Here's a quick excerpt:

"Details are still sketchy at the moment, but late last night a 911 call was placed from this home in the 3400 block of Amanda reporting a murder. We have heard unconfirmed reports that the victim is a female student from the university. Police have declined to make an official comment at this time or release the name of the victim until families can be notified. They are asking that anyone with any information regarding this incident to please contact them at..."

You have to love the news media. They go off half cocked and start reporting grisly stories before they have any real concrete information. All they do is drive the cattle into a depserate, panic stricken fear. Then they'll rerun the story until the cattle become so numb to it that they don't even remember being concerned for their own well being.

Left work early this afternoon. It's such a beautiful spring day. No rain, vivid colors in bloom and that sweet fresh air. If I hadn't been in such a hurry to get home I may have gone to the park to partake in its majesty. But my trophies are too precious to go unattended. They were in my workshop just as I left them, carefully preserved in a formaldehyde solution. They still gleam with such a fierce intensity, a blue that could only be made by nature. None of the cattle have the passion to make something so pure. I sat and gazed at them for what seemed an eternity, trying to reach the state of euphoria I felt when I claimed them. I never quite reached that plateau, but it was more than enough to drive me to a physical frenzy. I imagined the scalpel caressing the girls body, drawing blood in it's wake. The steeliness of her eyes fixed at me with such fear. I climaxed with such intensity and ferocity at the thought that it was like my first time.

Found

Couldn't sleep again last night. I took the train to the Loop around 10:00. The local university keeps the Loop full of cattle until well into the night. Young drunkards and hipsters spewing forth their trivial knowledge and existential views. Mindless creatures too wrapped up in expressing their individuality to realize that they are surrounded by clones, all sporting the same tattoos, piercings and t-shirts. They have no concept of the true rebellion that spawned those mall bought ornaments they so proudly display. Running through that crowd with a chainsaw would be a gift to society.

After blindly making my way through the masses on the streets I found myself at a little record store, possibly one of the few left in existence. It had one of those horrible, cutesy alliterative names that escapes me. Upon entering I was bombarded with some kind of screeching, dissonant audio. The kind of music that only the pretentious cattle can appreciate, taking pride in being a fan before the band "sold out". Despite the sonic assault I started digging through some of their used CDs and came across a much beloved album - NOLA from Down. It was a favorite of mine in my youth. So much passion and anger. I was making my way to the register with my find when I saw her. She was rummaging through some vinyl in the corner, pulling the occasional album out to peruse its condition. I hastily paid for my disc and made my way out the door. I took up a position across the street to watch her leave. About 20 minutes later my persistence paid off. She exited with a bag in her left hand, apparently having found some acceptable vinyl. She headed west on the street away from the chaos of the Loop. I took up pursuit after she had put some distance between us. I maintained the distance and stuck to the shadows in case she became aware of me. To my good fortune she never did. Our journey ended about three blocks away from the record store. She entered a large, Colonial style house, left over from a time before the area was ravaged by the university cattle. There were no lights on when she entered, nor was she greeted by anyone. I surmise that she lives alone. Now that I know where she is I can drop by, maybe this evening.