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Killer

(1)

By Joseph ZuchniewiczPublished 2 years ago 5 min read
1

As night fell, the lights of the city rose quietly, the last afterglow of the sunset dispersed, and the lights became brighter. People walking through the light are not as tired as they look in the daytime, and their faces are very bright and clean. Maybe it's the effect of the light, or some people's nightlife starts early - they put on makeup.

It's dark, please get up - this kind of life is normal for a few people.

It's late autumn. The occasional breeze blows. It feels cool. After standing for a long time, it will be cold to the bones. This does not exist for the aunts who dance square dance in the open area in the distance. The constant exercise even makes them sweat on their foreheads and warm all over. But for places where the lights can't be seen, this kind of excitement doesn't exist. There won't be people staying there for a long time, not even couples. Couples choose a more secret area to tell their love words. This kind of place belongs only to killers and is a well selected and excellent hiding place.

At the moment, a killer on mission is standing there. He has been standing there for a long time, and he doesn't feel a chill, because his heart has long been cold, and his soft connective tissue is really beating only for the operation of body functions. His thoughts fluttered, and the memories of many years ago came to his mind. Those things would come out naturally every time he carried out his mission. At first, he would wet his eyes with tears, and then he gradually got used to it.

At that time, he was in junior high school and happily went to report for duty. As a result, he was humiliated by a local ruffian. He has always been very timid, so people scolded him for not daring to answer back, and his legs were still a little shaky, his heart beat faster, his chest was stuffy, and his head hung low. He felt useless. Later, at school, he was bullied again. A group of people rushed into the classroom and slapped him. He didn't fight back, so the group dispersed and went to their respective places. Once again, he felt useless and began to envy those "experts" who killed people without blinking an eye. He was very depressed, depressed for a semester, and used to thinking things in his heart alone. So he doesn't have any friends. It's not that others don't play with him. It's just that he fell into his own mood and was deeply attracted by some kind of dark vortex, so he can't give others sincerity. He's in pain and tears. After his tears ran dry, he felt that he was also very good. After all, his grades were very good. He still had something to do. As long as he was busy, he didn't remember anything.

Successfully admitted to high school, a good school, he is still alone. Once he went out alone late at night and saw several people fighting in the alley behind an Internet cafe. He felt very happy. The thing was that three people beat one, but he was beaten back. He saw the man stabbing a knife into one person's thigh, scaring away the other two, and the murderer ran away. He waited for a long time and didn't see anyone coming, so he quietly touched it to check the man's injury. As a result, he was falsely accused of murder and sentenced to two years. He didn't complain. He felt that he liked the prison and didn't like it. He always felt that there were "experts" there. He wants to see what the "master" looks like. He is willing to go in. The family didn't believe he would kill, but he admitted it himself and couldn't help it.

After he came out, he had a lot of vicissitudes. He didn't see any "experts", but he suffered a lot of crimes. He likes the black vortex more.

He really killed, the first time - he walked alone in the street, late at night. All the shops were closed, and only a few women occasionally appeared at the entrance of some alleys to solicit business. He turned into the alley and met a drunk. The guy ridiculed him for no reason, pointed and abused wantonly. He remembered the feeling of being scolded in junior high school, so he walked over and asked, "what did you say?" The drunkard began to scold again and said, "you can beat me, son of a bitch." He thought it was interesting and asked himself, "what should I use to beat you?" The drunkard was stunned, and his mouth made a gurgling sound. The wine was strong, and the person was disgusted by the smell of wine. He seemed to say to himself, "how about this?" The next day, the city lost an alcoholic and he lost a knife. Strangely, no one came to ask him questions. Maybe there was an accident in the city. It gradually became dusty, and only now could it be remembered by him.

The car's horn, engine, human voice and singing merged into the noise of the city. He couldn't hear it. His attention was all in his heart. So when an old man walking by called him several times, they were filtered out, and the old man shook his head and left. The target was about to appear. He stopped thinking. At the moment, his brain was blank, adrenaline began to soar, and his whole body was hot. He seemed to see the blood of the target, as bright as the sunset, slowly overflowing in his blank consciousness. He knew he only needed to approach him, then handed the knife in and pulled it out, handed it in and pulled it out again, and repeated it several times to complete the mission. He would lick the blood beads on the tip of the knife and spit mixed saliva on the target's face. He felt that he respected the target and his industry.

He took a step

Short Story
1

About the Creator

Joseph Zuchniewicz

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