Impulse

My eyes take in your figure as you pay your respects to a special someone. A friend? A lover? A family member? I know not. I care not. I sit here in the shadows and wait. You don't see me, and that's exactly how it needs to be. You get up, done with mourning at this late autumn hour, and turn to leave. My mind races as you get closer, and you think nothing abnormal of this night. The moon does not shine, clouds cover everything in the sky. I know this is a sign of my destiny. You near me, and I strike. The wooden pole gripped tight in my hands strikes you across the jaw and knocks you, unconscious, to the ground. Blood starts trickling from your lips, a sign that my swing has damaged something inside. It means nothing from me. I sit on top of your motionless body, resting firmly on your waist. Reaching into the bag I brought along, I remove 4 sharp stakes and a mallet. Extracting a knife from my pocket, I begin carving holes into your wrists. You twitch, but you don't realize what is happening. Putting the point of a stake at the fresh hole in your wrist, I bring the mallet back and strike down as hard as I can on the stake. It is easily driven through your wrist and into the soft dirt below. With this, your eyes shoot open and you scream in pain. I cover your mouth with my hand to muffle your voice, and you start thrashing your legs, but they do nothing because I am rested on your hips. Using my one free hand, I bring to myself another wooden stake, and position it in my hand. Your eyes widen in horror as I release your mouth and pick up the mallet once again. Your lips tremble and your body quivers as my arms move toward your wrist. With a slight smirk, I place the stake on your wrist and this time, I first slowly tap it into the skin. I want to hear you cry, I want to hear you whisper and beg. I keep tapping it, while watching your face grow in pain, until I feel it won't penetrate any farther. I realize I've hit the bone. Staring into your eyes, I can see them soft and wet with tears that have streamed down your face. Keeping my gaze locked with yours, I slowly bring the mallet to my shoulder, then bring it down upon the stake, forcing it through your bone and into the dirt below. Another scream leaves your lips, but I know it is wasted. No one is around to hear it, nor will anyone arrive to hear it. Placing my fingers on your wrists, I collect some of the blood running from your body. Your body shudders as I place my fingers into my mouth and suck all of the blood off of my fingers. It's metallic taste flows in my mouth, and I am filled with ecstacy. You watch in horror as I turn around on your body and grip the knife i had laid at my side. I slowly grab your cold, fidgeting leg, and proceed to make a hole in your ankle, twisting my wrist back and forth to drive the point deeper into your ankle. Driving the third stake through your bone into the ground, I begin the work on your last limb. This time, instead of using the last stake, I leave the knife in place, and hammer it through your body. Your shrill cry is music to my ears as blood flows from all of your limbs. As I return to my original position, and I look into your face, you start to squirm, trying to break free of your captivity and stop the unending pain. Returning to my bag, I extract a rather large fishing hook, curved and extremely sharp at it's point. My heart starts beating, for this is where it begins to really get interesting. Moving my hand to your throat, I place the hook at the neck of your shirt and draw it downward, watching the cotton sever and fall off of your body. Your naked body reveals such a fine figure, and my breathing increases with more excitement. Your breathing is racing as well, but I don't think it's because you are looking forward to anything. Sliding the hook down to your waist, I sever your plaid skirt and rip away your undergarments. Once again I examine your beautiful body, and I am anxious for what will come in the next proceeding moments. Gripping the hook and placing it at the right side of your waist, I give you a gentle smile and push the hook into your flesh, causing blood to start flowing from the wound. Extracting the hook, I move on to your left side, and penetrate your skin with the hook again. Your whimpers of pain now have turned to screams again as you beg for me to stop. You promise me anything in the world if I let you go, but all I could ever want is to see you suffer. Moving the hook back down below your waist, I begin to laugh and your eyes grow wide with fear and disbelief. You plead for me not to do it, but I do it anyways. I shove the hook deep inside, and you scream as you feel it lacerating your innards. Blood now flowing freely from all directions, my work is almost complete. Picking up the fourth stake that I had left forgotten for so many, yet so few, minutes, I begin to force it into your ass, and you begin screaming and moaning in immense pain. After I have pushed it all the way in, I remove the hook from inside of you. It drips with blood and it runs down your body. Putting the knife at the hole that it had so recently dug at your waist, I insert it once again into the wound, but this time, instead of just pushing it deeper, I begin to pull it across your waist, from one side to the other. Blood begins leaking from your body and your insides become perfectly exposed. I can see from your eyes that you are nearly entering shock and are close to passing out, so I must make my work quick. Reaching inside of you, I grope your intestines and pull them from your stomach. I bring them towards your face, but instead, proceed to wrapping them around your throat, making sure to asphyxiate you. Your face begins to turn colors with the lack of oxygen present in your body, and I make sure the last thing you see before you die is a smile. Your head falls back onto the soft dirt and I know my job is done. I get up from your limp corpse, take a look at what I have done, and walk away, disappearing into the dark, never to think of you again.1