thenoobwriter Jose silva

A letter. It is old, and it seems that says something interesting, but be careful.

Conto Para maiores de 18 apenas.

tempo de leitura
AA Compartilhar

To anyone interested

To anyone interested.

I don't remember how many times I have done this already. Surely, the old me would think I'm despicable. For what I have been doing, there is no forgiveness; I know that hell is what awaits me, but even so, this insatiable need for killing prevents me from stopping this madness. God knows! how many times I tried to quit this bad habit of mine, however, every time a sink my sharp knife into the raw flesh; I feel an indescribable ecstasy which can only be fulfilled by killing people. Seeing their horrifying expressions begging for piety, is so fulfilling. In my younger years, I was a timid boy with some growth issues. I was a little undersized to my age; my skin was pale, my eyes were a little sunk into my face. My traits made the other kids to bully me, only because of that. For a long time, I was their play-toy; countless times I was hit, spat and humiliated to the point that I didn't want to go to school anymore. I felt like I wanted to die. I prayed to God, but he never heard me out.  I was in despair then I felt how my chest filled with rage and hatred towards the other kids every time they hit me. One day, I was heading to my home after a long day of tedious school, then one of the kids who bullied me approached to me and told me to give him all the money I had in my pocket. I said I didn't have anything left, so he angrily hit me in the face, making me fall. The kid climbed on top of me and started to hit me. I tried to cover my face and wait that everything happened but at that moment, I felt an overwhelming rage; my hatred towards him whacked me and then with all my strength I threw him away then I took a pencil out of my backpack and stabbed the bastard in the eye. I saw him screaming in pain. The blood spread everywhere as he moved. The happiness took place in the deepest of my heart. It was the first time I felt like that, seeing that bastard suffering was the most rewarding thing I could have ever imagined. The bastard kept crying, screaming and asking for help for a couple of minutes until he fell unconscious. My first thought after seeing him like that was to run away, but what if someone else finds him and he tells everyone about what happened here? -I thought- then I approached him, took out the pencil out of his eyes to finally stab him in the heart.  Oh! I still remember that feeling of excitement. It was the first time I murdered someone, but instead of feeling guilt and remorse; the sensation of pleasure filled my heart. After that, I left the corpse there and headed home. That same night, police came to my house asking about any information my parents or, I could give them about a boy who was brutally murdered in the neighborhood. Time passed by and police never found the murderer.

Killing is my only purpose in life. My collection of corpses increase as I piled them up in my basement. The putrid smell is hard to bear, but you'll get used to  it because now you'll be my next victim since you have found this letter.

Better watch out! 

31 de Outubro de 2018 às 04:15 0 Denunciar Insira Seguir história

Conheça o autor

Jose silva whoever reads this and reads my work i would like to ask you if u could tell me what you think about my stories and if you could leave some feedback to improve. That would make me really happy. Ty for taking the time to read this and my stories :)

Comente algo

Nenhum comentário ainda. Seja o primeiro a dizer alguma coisa!