Category : Stories

Sub Category : Suspense/Mystery

   My heart screamed inside my lungs. I couldn't find my breath or even recall my name. All I saw was the knife coming closer and closer to my heart. I screamed frantically groping in the darkness for a weapon just something anything to help me. It was too late. I was going to die. 

   The knife was pressing into my skin tasting my blood. The cold metal pierced my heart before I could object. I was dead. Simple as that. Just gone. The only thing left next to my limp, lifeless corpse was a basket of fries covered not in ketchup but my own crimson blood.

   Not all murderers are smart, cunning and cold. No. Some are just everyday people feeling, breathing, living people. Except in thier mind they are superior. They can do what the average person could never dream of. They relish watching the life go out of the victims eyes. My eyes.

   Killers and victims have a very special relationship. In some cases closer than that of a mother and daughter. Some cases are more complicated than others while some are so simple it makes you question the case itself.

   My case was like that. A knife to the heart. Simple. A good clean stab, a piece of artwork to behold. The killer gone, with just a message written with the fries I was about to deliver. /Murder with a side of fries/. The message was chillingly cold yet tasteful. 

   I was its masterpiece. I belonged to it. I was powerless in it's cold grasp. It killed me like I was nothing. And nothing I would become under it's cold soulless being.

      Tbc. Let me know if you want more.