He moved over to a bucket in the corner, the bucket was filled with chemicals, using a delicate brush he spread the chemicals over the paling skin. His face was now alight with a huge grin, he was extremely happy with this one. The chemicals now covered the flesh that he held delicately in his hands; the balm would help to preserve his prize. He took off his gloves and then carried the severed face up out of the basement, into the very dimly lit house, then up to the first floor of the house and into his almost pitch black bedroom. Shadows filled every corner; the only light was from a small gap in the curtains that were pulled across the window. The one beam of light that came in reflected off a mirror. He walked into the middle of the room and stood in front of the mirror. The only expression that his face let off was pure pleasure and excitement; he raised the skin slowly up and placed it over his face like a mask. He starred at him self in the mirror completely obsessed with the image of him with the young girl's face that he saw in front of him. He was very pleased with what he saw, and wanted a better view so he reached up and pulled a chord, thus lighting the bulb that hung down on a wire, and illuminating the whole room. The floor was a mess of pieces of paper, empty food cartons and used plates were scattered around, along with other rubbish. The dark green carpet was stained, had damp patches and was smeared in blood. The walls in front off him were covered in newspaper cuttings of deaths and murders, pictures ripped out from porno magazines and pictures printed from a computer of naked children. But worst of all, behind him the wall had five more 'face masks', all of young boys or girls, all hung from nails through the eyeholes. Seeing the reflection of these in the mirror made him even more excited, those faces, looking at him. He felt horny; the look on his face was of pure unadulterated pleasure. He didn't find his collection sickening or evil, he found it to be a thing of pure beauty and innocence captured like a work of art. While still staring at his reflection in the mirror he reached down and began to masturbate.
It wasn't long before it was realised that the girl had gone missing, her parents in fits of worry, and feeling very guilty about leaving her alone had started a search of the park area with help from neighbours. The police had been informed, and although trying to calm her parents by saying that she would probably turn up they were more worried than they let on. They knew there had been a few disappearances in that area, but the press had been silenced so the locals didn't know. The police were preparing a door to door search, on the lookout for anything suspicious.
The excitement he had felt was now fulfilled and he slumped down onto the floor, He pulled off the mask and lay there as the adrenaline ran out of his system. His mind cleared, but he felt no remorse or guilt, just sorrow that his ecstasy could not last forever. He needed more, something else that would arouse him. He needed another thrill, He saw the beauty in the children's deaths, he knew that they would not suffer as he had for all those long hard years, in death they had safety. The fact that the children were free from all pain and worry gave him a interesting thought, he could save more people from the torture of their everyday lives, give them a release without too much pain- but you have to cruel to be kind. He remembered his parents and how they had beaten him. Then he realised his mistake- he should kill the parents to save the children, instead of killing the children to save them from the parents, and this time he would hurt them as they had hurt him.
He went downstairs to look for a tool for the children's saviour. He looked around the kitchen, but found nothing that would cause the kind of easy destruction that he needed. He walked outside into the small back garden of the house. He looked around then went into the small shed at the far end of the garden. The shed was dark and gloomy, the wood smelt of rot and the majority of the shed was piled up with tools and junk. He searched for the perfect weapon, he searched through the heaps and found a blade-sharpening tool, he kept this and carried on looking. As he clambered to the back of the shed his trousers got snagged on something. He looked down and saw he was caught on part of a blade. He moved the junk covering it out of the way and pulled it out, it was a scythe, and although rusty he knew that this would do.
The police had started their door to door, but as of yet had no leads. The parents of the girl were becoming even more desperate as time progressed, their search had thus far been futile. The mother was constantly in tears- the fact that she had lost her only child, the child that had meant so much to her, every time that someone said 'it will be okay' she thought about what she would do if it wasn't.
He had spent a good half-hour cleaning and sharpening the blade of the scythe, and now both sides of it were nearly razor sharp. He could feel the power that he now possessed but he also felt responsible as he was the only one that could see the plight of the children, he had to do this for the children, to free them, to help them live the life he never could. Just thinking about this the anger inside him built up until his mind boiled. He grabbed the scythe and gripped it tightly. He stormed out of the shed the fury blinding all his thought, he stumbled down the side of the house, across the lawn and out into the street. The sun was still bright in the sky and this blurred his vision even more, he was confused and disorientated but most of all he was mad. In his madness he felt strong. Across the road a parent and her child were walking towards him, she saw him flailing about in the road and she stopped. He covered his eyes with his hands and as his hands shaded his face he saw mother, just standing and staring. She was still ashamed of him, she hated him- but now he had the power. He stared straight into her eyes with no trace of any emotion other than absolute total hatred, then he charged. He lifted the scythe above his head, the woman barely had time to move, she was reaching to grab her son just as with all the might that the madman could muster he swung the scythe toward her, the sharpened blade hit her in the middle of her back, it went deep into her flesh cutting a long line around her body, there was a loud crack as the blade broke her backbone. With a piecing scream half from pain, half from desperation. Her broken body fell to the floor, she tried to breathe but blood blocked her throat and shot out her mouth as her body convulsed. Blood from her shattered organs filled her lungs and ran out onto the tarmac she lay on. "Don't hurt my boy, Please….", she managed to mumble through the blood before her body slumped to the floor as all her life drained away with her blood. The madman knelt down and looked straight into the eyes of the young boy who was stood motionless in shock, like a rabbit in the headlights of a car, a tear trickling down his cheek. "Your safe now, your free, I have saved you.", spoke the madman. In his head the words he spoke contorted, and formed new meanings; he was the Children's saviour, he was a God. "I am your God.", he told the boy, then turned and carried on walking down the street. Behind him the little boy fell to his knees in tears, holding his head in his hands, he closed his eyes wishing that he would never open them again.
The madman was high from his feelings and the adrenaline that was rushing through his veins, his mind reached a hedonistic state where his senses where heightened, he could feel every beat of his heart pound against his chest, every leaf in every tree rustling individually, he felt his spirit rise out above everyone else and have power over them, he felt invincible and not even the flames of hell could not subdue him- for he was a God.
The police had received an emergency call from a concerned citizen claiming that she had seen a murder in the street, two police cars had been sent to the scene. The leading car turned into the road, the driver slowed down while his passenger stayed vigilant. As they neared the end of the road they saw what they had been looking for, "My God!" the driver exclaimed as he saw the small boys tears drop into the spreading pool of blood. The second officer, in shock and nearly retching from the sight radioed for an ambulance, before drawing his gun and rushing to help the boy.
A god is only as powerful as his believer and thus at this moment the madman was filled with power, for he had become his own hoard of dedicated worshipers- and he felt as though he had transcended all physical barriers holding back mortals. But he still had a job to do, destroy his mother. He could still remember when he stabbed her, and stabbed her over and over until she no longer beat him, put him down, locked him in the cupboard, until she could no longer dress him in girls clothes. He could remember dragging her down into the basement and defecating on her body, he felt no sorrow just relief and freedom. Yes he could remember- that was the problem, his mother was dead- but the memory remained. By freeing the children that he loves he can destroy the legacy of his mother that he hated.
The blond girls parents were still busy searching the area, they had knocked at most of the houses surrounding the park, but without any success at all. An old couple said that they had seen her skip into the park- but hadn't seen her leave, after the mum thanked them for their help they told her that they would prey to God for the safe return of the sweet child. The father of the child looked down the road, and saw the madman walking towards them, he saw the scythe, "That might be a gardener, perhaps from the park!", he said grasping onto straws- willing for the man to know the whereabouts of his beloved daughter, "Excuse me!," he called out to the madman and started running down the road to meet him. The madman heard the shout and it brought him back to his surroundings, someone was running towards him, he wasn't scared for he was on a higher plane but he tried to see through the blur who this stranger was. As the man drew closer he pulled a photo out of his pocket and held it up to the madman, "Have you seen my daughter, she has gone missing, have you seen her?." The father stammered, in his mind preying and preying for the answer he wanted to hear. The madman looked at the photo and remembered looking at himself in the mirror, in all his haste to save the children from their mothers he had forgotten about the fathers. He had never had a father, well not after his dad committed suicide. He did not know what to do, he tried to think but his brain clouded over. The father grabbed the mad mans shoulder. "Answer me, have you seen her?." He shouted- he had to know, he could not bare this any longer. "I saved her." The madman replied slowly. "Saved her from what, tell me." The father screamed, at the madman's blank emotionless face. The madman did not respond. The father grabbed the madman by his jumper, "Tell me.", no response, "What is wrong with you?, are you crazy?". The words shock the madman's brain, how could anyone speak down to him. These words destroyed his power and he dropped to his knees. The father backed off slightly, "hey man are you alright?." he asked unsure of what was going on. The madman was now weak, he felt his power rush out of his body, and the anger remained. The anger was all that remained he no longer had any other thoughts, he just wanted to destroy everything. He swung the scythe, the blade sliced the air and hit the father in the neck, veins, arteries, nerves, muscles and bone were cut cleanly into two as the blade cut all the way through. The fathers decapitated head was flung across the road and rolled to a stop as it hit the curb, still betraying an expression of shock. The headless body slumped to the floor, blood pouring from the open neck. But the madman didn't stop there, he got to his feet and swung again this time the blade hit across the stomach of the body, the skin sliced open and pieces of intestine fell out the gapping hole. The anger persisted and he kept swinging again and again, blood splayed up into the air as the body was chopped and sliced. Suddenly he stopped as he heard a scream, he looked up from the pool of blood, organs and shreds of skin and blood drenched clothing to see the mother of the child standing thirty foot away just screaming and screaming. The noise scared him, he was actually scared of something. The scream showed such raw emotion that it sent a shiver down his spine. He imagined it sounded the way he used to scream when his mum abused him, he hated it. He gripped tighter to his scythe and fled back towards his home, as he ran down the road he heard the scream drain off into a low roar, the sound of pure hatred.
The mother walked slowly up to the red mess that was her husbands body, she new her daughter was dead as well and now she had nothing left. She saw the severed limbs lying beside the pile of organs and cut flesh, but she didn't grimace. She looked across the road and saw the head of her husband lying in the gutter- his eyes stared into her own, but she didn't turn away. For now she had nothing left, nothing more she could lose, she felt her life end. She had one thing on her mind retribution, she turned and followed after the madman down the road.
The madman turned into his road, in front of him he saw the police cars and an ambulance in the road, there were two officers walking up the road towards him. He jumped into a large bush on the corner of the road and crouched there, he was sure that they hadn't seen him. He shivered- fear took hold of his body. He heard the policemen's footsteps getting closer and their voices, " That must have been an automobile accident, no-one would be that sick, just to leave the kid standing there." Said one of the officers. The madman watched them walk past the bush, as they did so he jumped out and swung the scythe hard and fast at them, the blade sliced across both their backs, blood sprayed out as the men fell to the floor. There were still signs of life so quietly the madman placed the blade over the nearest officers neck and pushed down hard, the blade cut through the skin and smashed the bone leaving the head severed. The other policeman started to pick himself up, but the madman swung the curved blade towards the officer- it hit him just above his ear and crashed into his skull, breaking a whole piece of his head off, the skull and flesh flew across the road as the broken head fell to the floor the remainder of the brain falling out of his head onto the pavement with a squelch. The blood from the bodies was still spreading across the pavement as the madman carried on walking towards his house.
The mother walked slowly down the road, completely focused just staring in front of her. She rounded the corner and saw the bodies of the policemen, she made no attempt to avoid walking through the spilt blood just carried on looking forward- transfixed on the madman.
The madman was becoming more scared, he no longer had any control over what was going on around him. Ahead he saw the body of the woman he had killed, but there was no sign of the child he had saved. As he neared the ambulance another policeman stepped out of it, before the policeman had even noticed the blood the scythe arced through the air and slammed into his leg, there was a piercing crack as the femur snapped into two, the scythe finished its swing leaving the policeman's lower half of his leg hanging on by a small piece of flesh- nearly totally dismembered. The policeman fell to the floor with a scream of pain, his chin hitting the concrete hard and nearly knocking him out, as his mind started to cloud over he reached down and pulled his gun from its holster. The madman turned and fled into the nearest houses front garden, he dropped his scythe and gabbed the top of the gate that led into the back garden of the house, from there he could get home. As he was pulling himself up over the gate he heard the loud echoing sound of a gunshot momentarily before feeling sharp intense pain as a bullet sunk itself into the back of his ankle. He fell down the other side of the gate and like a wounded animal started to crawl towards his home and safety.
The mother watched the policeman give way to unconsciousness and slump to the floor, she carried on walking. She walked past the unconscious body and across the small garden and up to the fence, she saw the blood from the madman's leg and for a second was transfixed by it, he was just as vulnerable as anyone else. She climbed over the fence and followed the trail of blood left by the madman.
The madman was now at the back door of his house, he had climbed over another fence into his back garden and still petrified he opened the door and half staggered half crawled up to his room. As he did so he thought about all that had happened, at one point he was a god, but now he was the hated, the scapegoat, a devil. He was terrified of what was happening, he had not felt like this since his mother died. In his mind he was slowly degenerating into the scared tortured child that he once was. He crawled into his room, he wanted to feel safe, to be alone. He searched the rubbish strewn floor until he found what he was looking for, the face, the face of the young girl. He pulled his mask on over his head, this made him feel a lot better, but people were mad at him, they hurt him, he didn't want to be hurt again. He moved to the corner and grabbed his knees to his chest, and sat there curled up like a child does when scared or sad.
The mother reached the house, she followed the thin line of blood in through the door and into the kitchen. She was still not sure what she was going to do, but by impulse she grabbed a knife from a rack. She continued walking slowly but with determination up the stairs.
He could hear her footsteps, realising there was nothing he could do he started to sob quietly, the tears building in his eyes and running down the mask, across the poor little girls pale skin.
The mother followed the trail of blood to the madman's room, she peered in. It took her a while to see the figure sitting in the corner, at first glimpse she saw her daughter- she was alive after all. She started into the room to grab her daughter, to pick her up and hold her in her arms, then stopped startled and sickened after realising the horrible truth. The madman cowered back further into the corner away from her. "Why?." She asked him, "It was for the children." He replied shakily between sobs, "No, that wasn't for the children,…This is." She stated coldly, as she raised the knife above her head and brought it down towards him- the cold steel piecing his flesh and driving deep into his heart. The madman felt the bade enter his heart, he felt piecing pain, and same feeling he had when his mother beat him, despair, sadness and hatred- but this time he felt it all slip away as the blood squirted from his no longer beating heart.
The warm blood squirted over the mothers face but it felt warm and she felt power in that. Retribution had been served, but she was alone.
(c) 1998 K.Leah
people have read this story so far, thank you.