|
| READING ROOM | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| COMMUNITY | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
| ABOUT GREAT WRITING | ||
|---|---|---|
|
| WORK AWAITING REVIEW |
|---|
|
| GW IS... |
|---|
|
Great Writing creative writing community is designed to prompt ideas
and provide inspiration and motivation within aspiring and amateur
authors. Whatever your topic; from love poetry to Doctor Who or Harry
Potter fan fiction, Great Writing's online writing group is where you
can make new friends and improve your creative writing. |
| WHO'S ONLINE |
|---|
| We have 1226 guests online and 5 members online |
| print friendly version | |
| Death of a Serial Killer [1] | |
| By KaydieKate | ||||||||||||||||
| 04 August 2008 | ||||||||||||||||
|
This will have roughly seven pieces. Very experimental for me. I just heard a soft southern voice in my head one day, and decided I'd listen to him. This is what I got. [Yes, the way I write is by "listening" to the narrator in my brain. No, I'm not crazy.] As always, criticism and advice appreciated. 1. Nobody will deny that I loved you, Amy. Even when they light me up like a New York City block, or my feet are doing the hangman's jig and the preachers are hollering that another one went to Hell. Even when they take all but my bones to rot in the ground, they cannot take that undeniable fact away. Because when I saw you, Amy, I saw the pieces of my broken life pull together, and I knew you understood me and I was ashamed to stand in your presence because it took a long time for me to fully understand you. But I do. I do now. And, Amy, no matter what them people say about the blackness of my soul--I want you to know that I loved you, in bitterness and loneliness and excruciating joy I did what I had to. Mama always said there weren't any good in thinking: as God rewards the faithful and the only direction my thoughts need turn is Jesus. She saw the wickedness in me, that dark hole where my intestines should have been; it seemed to suck the life right out of the room wherever I went, the light too. They tried to save me, the Congregation and all them. They tried to force the Devil out of my soul. Nearly drowned me in the river down by old Mr. Larson’s house. Ever since he seemed haunted by the happening, and became withered and bent. They said his soul was bending in upon itself, without the Faith to hold it up. He was just about the only one of the people in town who came in my defense. He said he can still hear the screaming at night, when the moon is strangled by the clouds. I suppose Mama always thought the more pious I acted, the more Bible I learned and the more I prayed, maybe then God would pay attention to me and shine his Holy Light down from the Heavens. Said I had to work harder than anyone else to earn His Grace, seeing as I was born with this blackness in my heart. It's not her fault, what I am. Just as it ain’t your fault what happened to those people. I ain’t trying to play the victim--I know well what I did. I’m a killer, plain and simple. I held no grudges towards those people, but I killed them all the same. And I can’t blame anybody for that. Nothing really good ever happened to me in my life, except you Amy, but I can't blame nobody for that either. Didn't pray hard enough, I guess. I did pray a lot though, when I was younger, but I never asked God for anything. I think that was what everyone else was doing but I wasn't. I figured God knew he made me wrong and there was no sense in trying to fix it, seeing as he would have made me right if he intended me to be so. But you are an angel, Amy, and I would like to place a request to the God who sent you down to this forsaken steam hole--I would like to see you one more time. Even a wretch can beg, I suppose.
Only registered users can rate and write comments. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
||||||||||||||||
|
|
Next item
|
|---|