The Game

I have never been this way, I mean through out my whole life. Although the thought, the craving, my curiosity was always there. It never failed me. I used to be so called “normal” as they say it. But I say, what is actually “normal” these days.

Everyone has his own idea of being “normal”, the way society wants things, and I had my own idea. So I embarked on that idea of mine. It just happened one day, just like that. I left the “normal” society and entered mine. I quite liked it there. I got to do what I wanted, but there was always a fear of consequence. Being a person who tries to do things right, it scarred me.

The very first time I acted upon my thoughts, to feed the first craving, which delighted me. To put an end to my curiosity was something that I cannot describe. The power I felt was beyond anything I have ever felt. But the first time never seems to go exactly how you plan it and as I later learned, they never turn out how you want. But the thrill and pleasure, always makes you hunt for more.

At the end of my block, lived a girl by the name of Skyla. Her name grabbed me, and I liked that. She was about average height. Amazing long dark brown hair, which could be mistaken as black, you know. Her eyes, I think she stole them from a puppy or something. Plump, full lips! I wanted to taste her lips; all I could ever think about were her lips. She was skinny, a little too skinny for me. But it didn’t bother me too much. I would say she was about 25 or so. Almost perfect! She consumed my whole world. I knew her whole schedule. When she went to work, when she had dance lessons and so on. I also knew about her personal life, who she was seeing, her friends and family, all the things about her. I felt I knew her better than she knew herself. The sad part was she didn’t even know I existed. She didn’t know she was playing the game. But that didn’t matter. For only at the end of the game would she know that she was the key player. She would know that I ran her world. She would know that soon it would be game over for her.

I tried to follow exactly what I thought. I would talk to her as she left the house for dance that night. Get her into my car somehow, kind of unclear on that part. For that is when I enter my world of normality. If she screamed, gag her. If she fought, tie her up. She would be in the back seat. I would drive to the city limits, talking to her, telling her everything I knew. I want to smell her panic, you see. Explain to her, when I get to where I want to be, about the game she never knew she was playing. By now, I should be testing her panic, her lustful fear. Getting out of the car, I would go to the back of the car to get her. Make her walk to a nice sheltered area, and there I would do what I always longed for. With me, in my left pocket would be a pocketknife, to cut the rope that bound her if need be. I would remove the tape that gagged her and finally taste her lips. Her hands still bound, I would wrap her beautiful hair around her neck… Need I say more? I would cover her body with leaves, pretty much anything I could find on the ground. No sex would be involved. That is for the sicko’s out there. I would say my goodbyes to her and then leave the scene. I would re-enter “normal” society and carry on with my day-to-day life. Until another player entered my world. Male or female, they both played the game well. I always found my players. Wanting to perfect my control. Always craving! Always wanting more!

But now I suffer. Slowly dying! My game is my life and now I can’t play it. Trapped in “normal” society, I fill with hate towards this world. Oh, that was my first taste of killing. And it went as I thought it would. Too perfect I think. I had eight more players over that next three and a half years. In total, five females and three males. My fear came true on the last player. I left my pocketknife behind. And you know what happens if you leave something like that behind. They have caught you, and it is just a matter of time before they take you away.

I have gotten a label now; they call me a serial killer. I think that that label is too harsh, don’t you think? I am just like you, no difference, but I went ahead, I had the courage to act upon my wishes. And it was wonderful. I am being put to death over my game. But you see, that’s the thing, I did nothing wrong. I was just playing my game

Published
Categorized as horror

By black_button

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