Just Killed a Man – Fiction Story

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I Just Killed a Man

What have I done? I am beautifully crafted with a handful of red, heavily I am bound to this tool until my fingers lose grip. I want to go to that place, the one that calms me, no more shakes. It is a kind of hunger; I have starved myself for to long, blooded bulimia… that is it. I have painted their life story over these walls; the house will remember the novel until rubble is its end page. Wandering eyes wander for better times, this wasn’t me, I am a protector, it makes no difference as I have no story.  My first few chapters were blurred by staining. They won’t understand… they never did to me, how can they connect correct actions into opened cuts? I don’t know if I feel better, I don’t know… shake my head to stir the pot, the truth will be in the end result. Did you hear that? Have I received an extra eye? Seen me murder a man, I could have infected their life, forever.

I re-pick-up my instrument and step to play some notes, if there is more than one, a symphony I will take from their lungs. I map my head around the corner, no one to be hidden, my mind is flickering and in over thought. No more thoughts are my own, taken by haunt, aging on the spot, engaging and caught, that’s why they got chopped. Why is there a why? Echoed and yelled, a deadly spell, granted and wished upon, I rubbed the knife and made no wish. Come back to the scene, lifeless and no audience showing the elements.

I watched him now as I watch him before, in my eyes I visualized this moment over and over and more and more. Fate for him was a date I would never forget, chiseled into my memory each bang with the hammer was a lunging motion with my utensil. Do I truly understand? Do you? …No. I have killed, to be honest; the rush was a heart thumper that pumped the honesty from my heart. Like my first sex act in a diaries note, yes, this room is unhygienic and grime licked but in either position you would not care unless the thirst was drank away. Why am I still here? Still thinking of this… The deed is done, leave.

No, I can’t, I want to soak up the enormity of this, when in my life will I get this chance again? Whenever I want, Invincible, untouchable, unreliable, that’s a lot of ables. The answer I already know to the question I am about to ask, if that was me, would you cry? Nope, If I was in that state, there would be no humane connection in emotion, a name spoken once in a casual conversation, is that all I am worth? I am a God in my own right now; I can make life and take it from those who do not deserve it.

Just slide down the wall and watch, don’t blink, do not even breath heavy, do not give into the fear of what might become from this event, which wants to crash upon you, it is just an emotion within you and you control you. Look at the blade, am I really that stretchy? I am a monster; I am an alien, is that why I did this? My nature is to blame then. The law will be here, I give it hours to days, they will catch up to me and on the third Sunday I shall be judged, so be it. I should stop myself now, put my self out of this world before the misery sets in. What have I done? What have I done?

He should have listened, shouldn’t he, my want wasn’t that steep for him to jump, his pride and manly standard brought him to his back, his fault, his. The angels are looking down at me with a shaking finger then pointing to the floor, hellbound, I should be putting my hands together to pray but I can’t drop the blooded instigator from my finger-tips. No more from his mouth now, that’s what I was chasing. How did I get here? I mean be pushed into doing this… I am smarter and I have stronger will, Murder! …Murder! …What have I done!?

Perhaps he is merely lurking in a slumber waiting to see me cry and jumping from this story, perhaps not. Let myself now be judged by me and me alone, I am one of those people who should be locked up indefinite, kept from socializing, kept from me, I deserve what he got ten fold, just a matter of timing. Step to the window, this maybe the last time to see and feel freedom. Look at the instrument again, play it one more time, now for your encore, show this world what truly happens to man when he is cornered by the world, God, take your life in to your own hands and scream to the Heavens so that Hell shakes even the darkest of souls. My actions are not meant for this world, so neither I am, do it do it now. Spread your wings and give back to the world what it has given you. Look… this is me, is this you wanted, well you finally have. What have I done?

Wordless…

I treasure my secrets so this world cannot find me. An X marks the spot; this is why I write when I am cross. I will wait here for you, I will always be here. Keep digging the dirt from on top of me; you will never uncover my truth. Set sail for a better life, towards the horizon line into the sunset. I cannot stand these calm oceans any longer; I am falling from the edge of the world’s ledge.

This split personality is splitting me in half, personally I am a person of pure fear, I don’t get along with many people, I blow up if you’re here. How would it be if I were famous? That would never happen; if I had a working brain this nameless delinquent would be too dangerous. I forecast more contrast, the light from my eyes have been snatched by a bad-man, gone fast. These naked trees vein over my skies, Alex, stop looking up to those stars unless they’re exploding!

Life is lawless,

Jobless with no benefits,

Hopeless and can’t get to grips,

With this whole mess I am living in.

Welfare will recur,

So will their slurring eyes,

The greatest loser,

It takes time to get use to,

We’re all living in this warfare,

Don’t feed this animal, tattooed,

Check out my new head-ware.

Ill-starred since my life started,

Killed my heart for my writing passion,

My time machine has broken down,

I am reliving my remembered past in a passing glimpse,

I’m turning off my humanity switch,

Hey, these hits happen.

Down this wormhole I go,

Clicking together my heels,

There’s no place like home,

Falling on my face, comatose,

You’re now watch an apocalypse taking place,

I’m diving in headfirst, hold your nose,

I am swimming in insane.

These words play no part in my everyday vocabulary, my existence is a horrific ordeal; ideally I am lost for words. Don’t wake me up from this nightmare; my everyday life is much worse. What can I write to have you on my side? See these horrors I never borrowed in this heart lives only hollowed morals.

Writers Worldwide Unite!

As a writer I do believe in magic. But that may just be my medication (No… Stop laughing, I am on medication.) But I ultimately love what words do for me and also what they can do for you. They can have you dreaming about one itsy-bitsy scene for hours or have you turn the pages because you can’t read anymore gore… Yuck!

But it is our job, no wait, our RIGHT to explore the recesses of our dark abysses and pluck the words out and form them into entertainment. Now I have been writing for about ten years, now I am back in the asylum (I’m getting off topic.) But I have seen wonders in words that deliver me to another world; I have seen the littlest piece of fiction woven into a work of a triumphant masterpiece and seen people start-up a blog and write a piece of fiction that one but me loves…. I read anything and everything, my curse I call it.

But we as writers are the creators, some better than others, I am sorry but that is life. Either you have it or you don’t; but don’t stop there “Someday” is within your cards, kid.

I am a different writer from you all; neither money nor fame keeps me coming back for more; only the mere thrill of shockvalue does it for me. (Better than sex…. well almost better.) But I would like to tell you a saying my mother always told me when I strived for greatness….. Are you ready?

What is not for you will not go by you.

Simple…. If this is the path you have chosen (Well-Done, Kid!) carry on, there are only two possibilities; either you make it or you don’t; but no one can say you didn’t try. Now I am here to say I HAVE GOT YOUR BACKS! I will try my hardest to help you before I help myself, another curse of mine…. (I’m thinking I have a voodoo doll somewhere.) But PLEASE don’t lay your pen down just yet. All it takes is for one literary agent to see your work and to put you on the top of that list and snatch you from reality and tell you to live, breath and write… Whatever it is you write.

Now if you are a real writer, you are very sceptical about your own words… DON’T BE! Forget what people say or read. You are a writer, you don’t have to read what they say if it is anything negative.

And don’t be a fool and quit. Look at me, I am 25 years young, I have dreams of becoming a writer and no one really knows who I am by name or face only by certain songs and articles I have written and into the bargain I am a mental patient (Non-Practising) but I have a knack or a fire to force my will to breakdown the writers-blocked wall, crumble it and from the mortar make my own world. That’s what makes me a writer. Keep going your story doesn’t end here.

Now I know we are vast, but numbers will dwindle (They always do.) And the only people left standing or writing will be me and you.

This has been a psychotic announcement to sane people worldwide.

Keep your pens busy….

Alex.

What Did I Just Write? What Was I Thinking?

What did I just write? What was I thinking?

The jags from their stares wrench and echo beyond my eyes, their eyes are now chock-a-block with a monster. I invert my own look towards a daydream away from this pit of despair I helped dig for them. Hands clenched within my pockets, they will never know how close they had come to a detrimental dental demise. I tell myself, they lie through their teeth, smash through those pearly whites and find self-satisfaction within the truth.

Raise Hell!

They’re coming to take me away to the funny-farm; I’m up-in-arms, hooray! The dark clouds are forming above; Hells-mouth is foaming for a taste of me beneath, especially when I drive my evil pen through these skinned sheets. They call me bad names, they call me ugly, that’s okay, because so are you! How I sleep well with my disfigurement? I dream of killing you! I’m prising open hell; you’re all men of God, have faith in me when I say, I’m a man of my words. Now the world of words should have begged my momma to boil this baby at birth.

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I’m the writer the good book looked-upon and shook fear from their every praying nook. I see words differently; they could be definitively disastrous definitely, defacing dimensions infinity infamously from the dragon inside me, diminishing dabblers dripping ink trying to deign diamonds. (That rhymes…. Fools.) YOU’RE IN MY WORKSHOP!!! I cycle down the path of a serial killing psychopath; reading recycled crap, redial that, RECYCLED CRAP!

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I’m done being the nice guy, time to write or time to die, lost my fights and ran for my life. This is the return of Alexander Kennedy, the evil pen strikes back. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make it the most gruesome that these people have ever seen. What am I thinking? What am I writing? Alex, there is a method to your madness, can’t you see? I’m starting a war against humanity, sanity is the culprit and it must be smudged clean from this spirally flushed floating toilet.

there is evil within us

Bring you picket signs, pitchforks and lit torch, gather round, gather round the monster writer of the century. Sane people fear what they don’t understand and cannot control; I don’t play well with others, why do you think since I grow teeth they kept me caged up? I can out-write you all with my left arm tied behind my back. I cannot rub out these words, like when the world tried to rub out this mistake. I auto-corrected myself and picked up a dictionary for meaning for the word, Pain.

I learned a few more bad words along my way; I don’t need swear words to curse at you. I write you into my world and let the ground swallow you whole. An emptied soul and a mind full of poetic words help formulate a plan beyond insane proportions. I peel my skin and try to fit in, but sooner or later they find new ways to get to me, further under my skin. So I put my faith and collective insanity and create a fictional world, where human rules do not apply, only the evilness that seeps from me. So I will slog my way through the slutty, semi-silent but slithering away siren ridden streets for some sort of success. I will figure out a way to pull your eyeballs out to my blog; and once I am in your minds, I will manipulate my way to the top of the food chain and then start to munch my way down the pyramid.

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So you can blame Eminem for giving me a second chance at life; Or you can blame my mother for giving birth to me. But it is society in a whole that failed me, pushed and pulled me to my own extinction, this is not an attitude problem, this is manmade evil. I’m your Frankenstein monster, you do not wish to confront. But just know I will take everything from you. This is all I know. This is my design.

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I scrape my nails across my face,

Self-hate has set sail for that new place,

A doomed fate,

The world is clueless to this,

It’s as easy as tying my shoelace.

One thousand screams,

Confounded dreams,

Come huddle round my murder scenes,

Doctors try to de-feather me,

But they looked further in me,

And heard him climbing.

Now I’m breaking free,

They took everything from me,

Here’s their severance pay,

For all eternity.

Living in this glass cage,

Stopping me from a rampage,

But this is my bat-cave,

I’m planning your last days,

While you’re in the fast lane,

On this world as a bad stain,

The world will have a bad day,

Now watch as I make the glass break

And come around your way.