Statistics.

Some days it gnaws at my insides like a rodent, attempting to find its way out and let the world see it for all its horrid glory. And when it does, I can only clench my fists and focus my thoughts elsewhere, ignoring the sweat building on my forehead and the feeling of my heart attempting to escape my chest. Other days its silent, waiting in ambush for me to let my guard down.1

Do you understand how easy it would be? For me, someone who has never in his life gotten in trouble for anything, been arrested, or even shown up as a blip on the radar to get away with a crime? So easy... So easy in fact that sometimes the urge to do so overwhelms me. I'll see someone at work and wonder how easy it would be to slit their throat. The feeling haunts me.2

When I go home, I sit in my apartment and watch porn. Constant masturbation in order to keep the urge to murder from taking over. One vice for another. But even then I can't completely ignore it. In my dreams I'm tearing people's limbs from their body. Laughing and swimming in the blood as it pours from them. Sometimes I use a knife, slitting their wrists and throats, sometimes I use a gun, and paint pictures on the wall with their brain matter. In my sweetest dreams I'm killing someone, in my worst nightmares they laugh at my attempts to shoot them, when no matter how close I get I miss.3

But I'm not stupid, no, far from it. That much you must understand. And I'm not crazy either. Some day, when I'm sitting before a jury of my peers and the judge is looking down on me as God must have Satan, I will testify that no matter what, I was always sane. For theres nothing insane about wanting to kill someone, if anything its the only sane thing a human can do. It plays into our most basic instincts, our most basic needs. One must prove they are the strongest. One must prove the other is weak.4

So I sit at work, watching people walk by me, reading reports of murderers online and what they do wrong, what gave them away. Soon I even feel ready to go through with my plan. The people at work suspect nothing, I have acted no differently than ever. There is something magical when I get home and eat dinner, for the food then tastes a million times better than any other night. I get a pair of old gloves, a throwaway pair of sweatpants, and old pair of running shoes whose soles are so worn down they're more like slippers, and start to drive.5

Where am I going? I don't know. If I knew then I would have already messed up. Statistics say that in 90% of murders the deceased knew the murderer beforehand. I don't know if thats true, I read it somewhere, but I intend to be the 10%. The person I kill will have never seen it coming, they will have never known what was going to happen to them. 6

I drive, taking on ramp and off ramp. Road and side road. I don't even know where I am, and so its perfect. I ignore the name of the development that I pass, but I mark it. Nearby is a park surrounded by trees. Perfect for me. I park the car and get out. It is at this point close to midnight, the magic hour. Statistically speaking, midnight is the hour when the most people are murdered. I don't know if thats true, but I read it somewhere.7

I walk back down the road to the development I passed and walk down the streets as if I live there. I can't act bothered, because that's a sign you see. If I act bothered, people notice, and people get suspicious, and people call police. Nobody must know or suspect. I think thats the problem. They say subconsciously all murderers want to be caught. I say no. I want to get away with it. I want to walk with blood on my hands and no guilt in my gut. 8

I picked a house with a fence and a pool. Statistically, people who live in a house whose back yard is fenced in and has a pool in it don't lock their back doors. I don't know if thats true, I read it somewhere. But in this case it was, the door slid open as though it was greased and awaiting my arrival. I can feel the sweat breaking out on my forehead now, but the sweatband I wore absorbed it. I foresaw this might happen, the anticipation.9

Right through the sliding door is the owner's kitchen. Perfect. You see the biggest mistake I think you can make is to buy the murder weapon before hand, or worse, bring one from home. So I thought it out. I thought, why not just use something from their own home? I think its beautifully ironic. So I sort through their knives. They have the usual assortment of cheap cutlery, but its one piece that catches my attention.10

My guess is the lady of the house watches infomercials, for the knife I pull from its custom made protective cover is as beautiful as I could have hoped for. Obviously sharp, slightly serrated, with a good grip and weight to it. I don't need to be an expert to know that this is a good knife.11

Just then the living room light turns on. My heart begins to thunder in my chest, and I look around. Moving like a shadow across the kitchen floor I duck behind a counter, where no sleepy eyes can see me. Foot steps come into the kitchen and the room is filled with the pale light of a refrigerator's insides. I stand up, my clothing makes no noise.12

Silhouetted against the fridge is a girl, I'd put her age anywhere between sixteen and twenty-one. Its hard to tell these days. I blame the rap music. I can't help but admire she's beautiful, and the way her pajama pants cling to her curves is nothing but enticing. But I won't leave that sort of evidence around, no, I'm not that stupid.13

My feet made no noise as I crossed the floor. It seemed to take an eternity, but barely two clicks were made by the second hand on the kitchen clock before I was behind her. My left hand curls around her face, covering her mouth and forcing her head down. Down, not up. Most people don't understand that if you push their head up than you might only slice the airway and they could live. I would have no survivors.14

My right hand comes up with the knife, the blade pressed up against her throat. There is no dramatic pause, I don't whisper anything into her ear. With one deft movement my right hand flies through the air, she lets out a muffled squeal and than slumps to the ground. The inside of the refrigerator is coated with blood, her arterial spray is more intense than I thought it would be. Some things movies get right after all.15

Standing over her body I feel nothing for a moment, and then it hits me, like a weight off my shoulders. Theres nothing difficult about it. Its that easy. I bend down and turn her over, her eyes still staring out in death, confused, hurt, sad. I lift up the pink tank top she is wearing, revealing her breasts, perfectly formed and still. The camera in my pocket comes out, and I take the pictures that I said I would. Proof, proof of the deed, proof for me and me alone. Porn has nothing on this.16

But a girl like this doesn't live alone in a house like this. So I put the camera away and get my grip on the knife once more. The living room has the softest carpet I have ever felt in my life. It cushions my feet perfectly, making no noise. I'll bet it's annoying to vacuum. 17

The stairs worried me, but I figured that if they were used to people going up and down them in all hours of the night, then I had nothing to worry about. Only one stair made any noise, and even then barely enough to worry about. On the second floor there are four rooms, a closet, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. One of the doors is open and inside I see posters of various bands. The girl I killed in the kitchen's. The others is left partially open, enough to let the barest sliver of light in through the gap and some noise. The man of the house's frail attempts at protecting his family.18

I push it open to reveal the room inside. The couple are asleep, one with a book held open on her chest and the other on his stomach with his head buried in the pillow. Statistically 40% of people sleep on their stomachs. I don't know if thats true but I read it somewhere. I walk over beside the bed and admire the woman for a moment. Its easy to see where the girl got her figure. I slit her throat easily, and she wakens to struggle for breath in the last few seconds of her life. Her movement rouses the husband, who groggily stirs. 19

He probably is wondering why he's wet, and warm, and his wife is flailing. By the time he understands what happened I'm near him, and as he turns and sees me I strike him with the hilt of the knife, dazing him. With a kick I send him back onto the bed, which exposed his stomach. See, the throat is not the most deadly location on the human body to cut someone, nowhere close indeed. See, just below your stomach before the pelvic bone is a thick vein that provides blood to your legs, and if cut you die far quicker than if your throat is cut.20

I stabbed him in it five times, annoyed that he didn't have the strength to resist. He slumped to the ground, writhing in his last seconds, probably wondering what will happen to his beautiful daughter, ignorant that she will be waiting for him in whatever afterlife there is. I pull my camera out again and take my pictures. Before I leave though, curiosity gets the better of me. I'm in a strange home, why not see how these people live?21

And so I begin to explore the house. In the basement there is a pool table, I racked up and played a quick game of 8-Ball, stripes lost to solids. The table had a curve. There was a bar, but I didn't partake, because that would leave evidence. Done in the basement, I go back upstairs. I ignore the kitchen, I know what's in there anyway. Their DVD collection is respectable, but boring. The bathrooms hold the normal array of hygiene products.22

In the girl's room I find a computer, I turn it on and go through all her files. I'm guessing she has a boyfriend, she has the kind of pictures in some of her folders that you only give out to the intimate. Her toy is in her bedside drawer, her teddy bear on her bed. I think its ironic how kids these days are so innocent yet devious.23

I make my way back to the parents' room. In the woman's bedside drawer are magazines. I ignore them. In the man's drawer is... oh my.24

My fingers are reverent as they pull the item out. I'd done my research you see, before I ever decided that I would do anything. And what I was holding was a .45 caliber Colt model 1911 semi-automatic pistol. It was a glorious weapon, most likely purchased for home defense. It was too nice to pass up, so I check to make sure the safety is on and I put it aside.25

I was done now, and so the final and most crucial step was called for. I changed out of my clothes, and into some of the husband's. They were a little loose on me, but that was alright. The pistol went into the pants, tucked safely in the back, not the front. 15% of gangsters who tuck their pistols near their crotch regret it. I don't know if that's true, but I read it somewhere.26

In the garage I find what I need. I pour the gasoline on all the bodies, my pile of clothes, the knife, and wherever else it would go. Quietly to myself I laugh, with gas prices these days this would be an expensive murder if I'd paid for the tools myself. I light a match, and let the house begin to burn. I make my way out the back and down the street, and by the time I make it back to the park where my car is I can hear the sirens in the distance.27

It is the most glorious drive home that I have ever had, and that night I sleep like a baby. The next day I read about it in the paper, a horrible house fire that killed a family of three. See thats the brilliance of it, nobody suspects a murder, because their all dead anyway. I think I'm too much of a genius for myself, sometimes.28

The next day at work I feel fantastic, the people who walk by don't understand how easily I could end their lives. All I can think about is the pistol that I have back in my home, and what I can do with it. Everything about life seems fantastic, and when I go home I celebrate. I pull out a bottle of whiskey and drink nearly half of it, and when the worlds a blur and the stairs to my bed seem insurmountable, I go to sleep.29

I don't know what it was that woke me up, but when my beleaguered eyes opened, all they could see was the face of a man standing over me in obvious triumph, the look in his eyes looking like something I had seen in the mirror last night. I don't register the flash of the blade, but when I feel the pressure on my throat and see the gush of blood that coats him I understand what happened.30

And in that final fleeting moment of life, when the world goes dark and the light begins to glow in the distance, I only wonder if he was one of the 90%, who I passed everyday in work, or one of the smart 10. I'll never know, because I barely have seven seconds to live given that he had cut my throat. But I don't know if thats accurate. I just read it somewhere.

Author notes

I think that everyone has always believed at some point, while reading the newspaper or stories online, that criminals are retarded. That they could do it better. This is just the story about one man who actually went through with it.

A contest entry

Which percent are you?

    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have 0. (?) (Line numbers)
    Ratings:

Comments

1 - 28 of 28

  • UrbanRealist gold member
    1 day ago
    ?
    Edit | Reply
    A good, solid story. I enjoyed the 'what-if?' plausibility of this piece - that someone, somewhere could be sitting back and thinking how easy it would be to get away with murder. I particularly enjoyed the ironic twist at the end - to demonstrate that sometimes things don't pan out statistically - because, really, what are the chances that a murderer would be killed so soon after murdering people - and by the same method?

    Well done on all the contests.

  • gerifitzsimmons Greeters member
    1 day ago
    ?
    Edit | Reply

    If I was to remark about what the lesson was that I learn from your brutal tale—easy. It’s grand being a writer of fiction


    Thanks for sharing this very intriguing story with us. It certainly won you a lot of rewards congratulations on receiving them.

    Great plotting, and terrific descriptions of the activity taking place. You allowed your reader to ‘See’ what was happening. No dialogue—but it wouldn’t have fit anyway.

    If I was to remark about what the lesson was that I learn from your brutal tale—easy. It’s grand being a writer of fiction . You can do all this mischief, mayhem and murder while never committing a crime.

    You still require some pesky editing—nothing drastic but annoying little mistakes that plague us all .

    I pointed some out but they are repeated in other lines.

    I can't act bothered, because thats a sign you see. When using the contraction for that is, don’t forget your apostrophe (that’s).

    Sliding across the kitchen (floor) I duck behind a counter, where no door from the inside of the house can see. (this sounds like the door has eyes. Sliding would be noisy why not slinking or creeping?

    I duck behind a counter, where (I couldn’t be seen is all you need.)

    she lets out a muffled squeal and than (then) slumps to the ground

    The girl I killed in the kitchen's. (kitchen.)

    In the girls (girl’s) room I find a computer, I turn it on and go through all her files.

    I think its (it’s) ironic how kids these days are so innocent yet devious.23

    Good luck in the other contests,

    Geri


    • WritersEffigy gold member
      1 day ago
      ?
      Edit | Reply
      Thanks for your awesome feedback, one minor correction.
      It does stay "The girl in the kitchen's." because its possessive stating that that room is hers.


  • the wonder girl silver member
    November 16
    ?
    Edit | Reply

    The percent that dreams about your tale O_O

    I read your piece some days ago, and I meant to comment, however, I was just really really sleepy so I opted to do that the next time I came on. In sleep, AND I dreamt of this work. My dream was somehow similar to it, and yet, your short story was still darker. It was a nightmare, to be honest, and I think that just meant your story was successful in its bonechilling murder - karma worked its hand, too

    I have a penchant for serial killers, as well as people who are "born to kill." There is an ongoing debate as to what triggers a murderer/serial killer/bad person - if it's genetics, the environment, or something else.. I'm sure you're already aware of that. Some people just have to kill.. maybe like your protagonist (but is he really?), some people just have to unleash this great want.

    =) Anyway, great work. The trophies you've gathered through this story is testament enough to that.

    Thanks for sharing this with us!
    p.s. the "errors" are nothing too bad, just a few missing commas that won't change the meaning of the story, nor did they deter me from not enjoying your work.


    • WritersEffigy gold member
      November 16
      ?
      Edit | Reply
      I'm glad you enjoyed my story!
      I think you're honestly the first person to say you've dreamt about it. O.o
      But thats alrite! Just means I did something right.
      Thanks again for the awesome comment!

  • Elphinstone
    November 16
    ?
    Edit | Reply

    dunno, fascinating read tho

    another fact: blood from the neck artery(dont know what it's called, did at one point) will be pumped 42 feet, which really is a long way. Just thought you might like to know. I really like how it's all come around, and in the end justice is served. Brilliant. Loved all of it, I'm a fan of statistics too, anthough not quite as much as this person.

    . Rewarded 6


    • WritersEffigy gold member
      November 16
      ?
      Edit | Reply
      Its just called arterial blood. (there are three kinds, arterial, venial, and capillary)

      42 feet? Makes sense. 42 is the answer to life's ultimate question.


  • Hatsune Miku
    November 15
    ?
    Edit | Reply
    Omigod! You stamped the mental image to my head!!!! *shakes ir away but can't*

    But nice job for describing it.. like I could totally see you killing someone... *shivers*

    And oh yeah, you watch porn?

    . Rewarded 4


    • WritersEffigy gold member
      November 16
      ?
      Edit | Reply
      I'm male and in the Army. I don't so much "watch porn" as "occasionally glance at websites that aren't porn".

      Plus porn is hilarious if you try and follow the acting.


  • Andy Stephenson Greeters member
    November 8
    ?
    Edit | Reply

    Hi

    This story is being considered for inclusion in a Storywrite anthology we hope to publish. If you would like this story to be considered, please apply to this group:

    http://storywrite.com/group/info/Storywrite%20Anthology%20Volume%20One?stay=1

    Andy


  • Andy Stephenson Greeters member
    October 17
    Edit | Reply
    p6 but I (intend)

    p18 (then) I had nothing

    I decided to read threw this again. I noticed a couple of mistakes as noted. It's a very good story with wry humor.

    Andy

  • Walrus gold member
    October 16

    Edit | Reply
    Good job, reminds me of Darkly Dreaming Dexter. Which is one of the best books from the last few years, so well done.


  • Andy Stephenson Greeters member
    October 16

    Edit | Reply

    Hi

    How are you? I've read this one before. I think it has a good chance of being included in the book, if we succeed in publishing it.

    Can't give you any applause since I already have. I enjoyed Fleas.

    Andy


  • HoneyAngel
    September 8

    Edit | Reply
    I really liked this story. I loved the idea and since I'm obsessed with killers and the like, I loved it even more. It was a great plotline and such an ironic twist that he himself was murdered in the end.

    I couldn't really see anything wrong with it. You're a talented writer and such an ability to capture the lack of emotion yet the story still kept me interested, it wasn't flat.

    Good job and good luck.

    Angel.

  • Shadowed Phoenix
    August 25

    Edit | Reply
    The title is fitting that's for sure. I think this is one of the better murder stories I have read. Did you make up these statistics or are they real? If there real then what are the chances of a murderer killing anothr murderer the night after the killed murderers first murder? Really enjoyed reading this. Wonderful. Thank you for entering my contest.


    • WritersEffigy gold member
      August 25
      Edit | Reply
      A lot of the statistics are made up, the only one that I know is true is that the victim knows the murderer 90% of the time.


  • Andy Stephenson Greeters member
    August 21
    Edit | Reply

    Another very good story.

    I love the repeated "I read it somewhere".

    This was very interesting as well as entertaining.

    Most of my killers would have raped the girl. Since he planned to burn the house, it wouldn't have mattered. If he had been able to tie her up and finished off the rest of the family first, he could have played more than pool. The irony at the end bordered on humor.

    I would have liked to know what the other killer's motive was, but that would have taken away from the ending.


    p6 but I (intend)

    p28 too (much of a) genius for myself(,) sometimes.


    Andy


  • Naive.
    August 15
    Edit | Reply
    I've commented on this before, and I feel the same way now. Great job. =]

    -jj


  • KayZee
    August 6
    Edit | Reply
    Crips, this is one awesome story.
    If I tried saying any more than that, it would tarnish the awesomeness, so I'm going to leave it at that, heh.


  • Jesus Lizard
    August 6

    Edit | Reply

    phwoar O:

    Your story was 'mazing :]! I like how he commented on things the family had in their house and all the statistics he knew about murder. It must've taken you a while to get all this statistical information, but yeah, it was pretty rad. I also love the ending, it was so ironic. ;D

    Somethings I'd like to point out:
    "I don't know if thats true, I read it somewhere, but I intent to be the 10%."
    Do you mean "intend" or "my intent is"?

    "Perfect. You see the biggest mistake I think you can make is to buy the murder weapon before hand, or worse, bring one from home."

    First of all, "Perfect" isn't a sentence so replace the period with a comma and make the "You" lowercase. and the second sentence you need a comma after "you see" because it's direct address.

    Other than that, amazing job, I wish you good luck in all those contests you entered.


  • Miss Hanako Megumi
    August 5

    Edit | Reply
    This was very distrubing... a detailed version of an insane mind. How I feel for you... lol.. did you have this dream yourself? Or was this a wakeful one?

    Good details, nice character.. overall just... disturbing..


  • Naive.
    July 15

    Edit | Reply
    =] Loved this. I love how the killer is such a smartass and cocky. It was pretty well written, but there were a lot of mistakes where you needed an apostrophe. Also, the ending was really great and a surprise. I was wondering how you were going to end this and have the same huge impact that the rest of the plot had. You did a great job.

    Thanks for entering and good luck! =]

    -jj


  • tallblondie Greeters member
    July 8
    Edit | Reply
    Firstly, a fabulous recounting of someone who decides to carry out a murder by doing everything 'right' - statistically right. A good read, with a few mistakes that are easily rectified - have listed them for you;
    [6] 'intend' not 'intent'
    [17] 'it's' not 'its'
    [26] 'that's' not 'thats'
    Thank you for your entry in a Quick Quickies contest.


  • Quixotic Greeters member
    June 10

    Edit | Reply
    THink i would be %90. Who knows. Brilliantly written. Excellant detail~ All i can say is flawless...and it's going to be hard for others to beat this one. Very well done! Durian


  • grey2dragon
    June 10

    Edit | Reply
    I like a lot of things about this piece. I love the repeating line, "I read it somewhere," and I enjoy the twist where our killer gets killed.

    My only concern is that our killer was so careful with everything, but then he chose a house at random. A lot of things could've gone wrong at that point; a son out late partying, coming in onthe murder in progress, the father cleaning a gun upstairs, maybe a toddler playing.

    Not saying anything's wrong here; just wondering if he should've stalked his choice and known exactly what he was going to do.

    No matter what, fun, darkly entertaining read!


  • La Maravilla
    June 10

    Edit | Reply

    I'll see someone at work and wonder how easy it would be to slit their throat. The feeling haunts me.

    That was probably my most favorite line out of this entire story. Your story in a whole was wonderful! I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and the twist at the end was unexpected but highly appreciated! I was definitely not expecting him to get killed himself and even I wondered if maybe it had been someone at work.

    I love how there were statistics throughout the story, however at times I found them slightly annoying. But the ending was perfect!

    Thanks so much for taking the time to enter my contest and BUENA SUERTE!!!


  • CactusJack silver member
    June 9

    Edit | Reply
    This was pretty good.
    I like the little statistics (title makes sense now) thrown throughout.
    a little dark, a little real and a lot good.
    A few typos here and there (nothing a once over won't catch.)
    I've had this hypo convo with friends b4 and its nice to see what someone else would 'do'. Its sad he (it is a he right?) dies at the end. I would've like to have seen more.
    A welcomed change. Good luck in the contest and thanks for entering.

    Jack

1 - 28 of 28