Irresistible
The way it drips down my chin onto my
teal-blue shirt, leaving a red stain that bleeds into a big crimson spot. I
looked down onto the sight of all these lifeless bodies surrounding me,
beautiful. Abdomens sliced open and encircled around each other to look like a
big bloody flower with innards spilling out from in between the soft, fleshy
petals. In the middle was me, standing tall, grinning at my wonderful work of
art. I was proud. It took me four whole hours to finish this, I had to find the
12 people with the best skin, kidnap them, inject each one with morphine, then
grab my kitchen knife and take the blade to their skin. This was my favorite
part, the designing of all the petals.
I was ever so careful in keeping my hand
steady through this delicate process. One slip and I would have to discard the
body and find a new one; I couldn’t afford to have that happen again. I was
almost caught last time I had to start over; luckily they blamed that poor
homeless guy in the alley by the dumpster where I dropped off the body. He was
so starved he started to black out and he believed that he did it and hadn’t
remembered. I only knew this because it was on the news about a week after I left
the corpse there to rot. I was clever enough that I wasn’t even a suspect. I
wear gloves while preparing the bodies and a black beanie so no hair is stuck
to them either. I sliced carefully making the curve of the petal precisely how
I wanted it, no… how I needed it. It was exactly how I planned, perfectly
curved so that it resembled a beautiful flower. I proceeded to cut out his
heart; I would need it separate for the final touch on my art.
I put him in the body bag that I had
prepared before I began. Then I started the next, and then the next and I
continued until I finished all 12 petals. I put them in my shared work truck, I
borrowed from work because I had to cut my tree down and my car wouldn’t be
able to haul it to the dump. I threw my tree on top of the body bags so that
they weren’t visible through all of the leaves and branches. I drove a few
hours until I was finally at the abandoned factory where I had planned to
display my piece, the gate was still unlocked from the last time I went to
check it out. I grabbed the empty old wheelbarrow and carefully piled in three
bodies, then quickly continued into the building. It was slightly difficult
getting them up the stairs but I managed to get all of them to the second floor
where the dirty window let in the moonlight. I carefully unzipped the bags and
placed the bodies in a circle, then I took my gloved hands and spread the
incisions open to reveal the bloody innards of the bodies, I grabbed the
intestines and carefully pulled them out so that they were out between the skin
petals so beautifully. I grabbed a black bag that held their hearts, and
cautiously stepped into the middle of the bodies that made my flower. I grabbed
a heart and bit it, feeling the blood drip down my face, warm and delicious. I
chewed and savored the raw, delicious meat and enjoyed it more than ever. I
looked down at the bodies and took another bite; I was pleased with my work.
This is the best work I have done in a while.
I finished the heart and grabbed the cow
heart I got from the market earlier. I placed the large heart in the center and
took the bag of hearts and placed one on each corpses innards, I stepped back
and admired my work. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. After I
was done I walked out with my body bags and other tools, I drove home and
waited. I went to bed and woke up to the warm sunlight on my cheek; I smiled at
the feeling and the picture in my mind of my work last night. I happily jumped
out of bed and turned on the living room television to the news; I sat on my
couch and got comfortable as I waited for the weather to end and for the story
to start. It was finally on after a commercial or two and I listened intently
to what the news caster said, “Breaking news, the flower killer strikes again.
12 bodies were found at the abandoned factory just outside a few hours from our
very own town. All victims were residents here and went missing only days ago.
Their devastated families have made it their mission to find who killed them.
The flower killer first struck a few towns over just 4 years ago, carving a
flower out of only 1 body.” I loved hearing my history on the news, they had so
many things wrong and only I knew the truth. She continued, “We can only hope
that the police find him soon.” I had killed many people. I only kill twice a
year, but I kill more and more every time. I kill more so that I can make my
art bigger; nobody is impressed by just one anymore. I have to make it bigger
so that I can keep their attention. I can’t be forgotten, and I won’t. I made a
name for myself and I love it. The fame ,the blood, and everything that comes
with it. It’s irresistible…
Original work by P.H.
