WARNING: This piece contains descriptions of extreme violence.

Irritated, I drove around the city looking for my prey, a Hispanic man probably in his late 40s. I stalked him for two weeks to know what I was up against ( not that I’m afraid ). It turns out he has two adult children. If I took them away, I thought they’d do just fine for themselves. Sometimes, I just miss the pleasure murder brings, and luckily for me, his children went on vacation. Perfect.

It was probably 01:00 in the morning, and I ensured everything was perfect. I waited nearly 20 minutes for the lights out, and it was time for action. I brought my most treasured equipment to conceal ‘my mission ‘. The door wasn’t locked, so I was safely transported into the man’s house. One point for me and zero for whoever that guy is ( soon to be was ). It took me a considerable amount of time to locate his bedroom; upon finding it, I saw pictures of his family; too bad he had to die.

I took out my sledgehammer and hammered it into his skull. The sound his head made being hit made me love the act of taking one’s life. I hit his head one more time to reminisce about the sound his head made and just because it was funny how his upper body moved as I hit him. Maybe I should do this man some justice and bury him. Haha, I was kidding. I will buy a freezer and store his body in it, but before that, I will cut his body up into smaller pieces of delicate flesh. I itched to photograph him, but … it’s protocol.

Twenty years later, nobody knows about that man. I never knew I had it in me to do what I did. I even attended his funeral. His daughter looks OK, maybe later because I have an appetite for meat.’