|Pure Evil by: Reclusive Knight
It started off as a typical Sunday here at home. Football was on, and I was working on my new Fantasy/Horror Short Story. As I sat here writing I received an email. The email read as follows:
THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE. $97.00 HAS BEEN CHARGED TO YOUR ACCOUNT. YOU ORDER IS AS FOLLOWS: CANDLESTICK MAKING CLASSES, PRESENTED BY OPTION UNIVERSITY.
I thought this was just a SPAM email, like the dozens of them we all receive. What to do with a SPAMMER? That is another story, because this tale is about a thief.
So I went to my online banking site to check my account. It’s a very secure site, and you have to enter private information; plus change your password monthly. When I logged in to my account I immediately spotted the $97.00 charge. It was real, and someone really did get my personal information online.
The only site I ordered from was a book dealer site. I purchased 4 back issues of a popular Horror Magazine. This is the last place I entered my banking information online, so I narrowed it down. I discovered this was the site the THIEF or THIEVES gained access to my private information.
I was stunned, my adrenaline started to flow, my heart began to pound, it beat so hard I felt it in my ears! Sweat began to form on my forehead, and I could feel my face getting hot.
I lit a smoke to try and calm my nerves. It's Sunday though, and the bank doesn’t open until 8 a.m. Monday. There's nothing that can be done right now, I just hope they don’t use it again in the meantime. My smoke tasted good, but did little to calm my nerves.
I copied down the website's information and sent them a CRITICAL marked email. I asked them to cancel the order A.S.A.P. I haven't heard from them at this point in time. It's the weekend, and I figure they're closed as well. Good time to SCAM someone, on the weekend, behind people’s backs.
I may never know who stole my banking information online? I have been banking online for 8 years now, and this sort of thing never happened to me before. I only read about it online like everyone else. Will they be able to track this thief down? Maybe they can find out their I.P. address?
The police arrived with good news, they captured the culprit. “He’s all yours buddy,” said the officer.
I gladly accepted him, and in my mind I thought, “What if this is not him? It could be a woman, they were Candlestick Making Classes?” NO, this is him for sure, I know it’s him!
The police left, and the handcuffs were still on this sorry looking man. I have a plan to take the handcuffs off, no key needed.
I walked downstairs to my basement, and I looked around for my saw. I found it on a old wooden shelf and grabbed it. I proceeded back up the stairs; the sick bastard had the nerve to stare at me. So I did my best to help him, and removed the handcuffs.
I took my saw, and I cut off both hands at the wrist. They fell to the floor, along with the bloody handcuffs. Now he had no hands to use a keyboard. He screamed, and shook around as he hit the hard floor. His severed hands lie next to him on the floor. I am MUTE, I hear nothing, and I show no empathy.
I started to undress this sick twisted thief. Then I walked out and filled a pot, and placed it on the stove. While waiting for the water to boil I spotted my baseball bat. So I clutched the wooden bat and headed into the living room. I raised the bat and swung it wildly, and all my frustrations came out now. I broke both of his knee caps, and now I knew for sure he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not to any Candlestick Classes, not for food, soda, nothing anymore, without a wheel chair; and a pair of prosthetic hands.
He laid on the bloody floor, no hands, broken knees, and in obvious pain; but not in my mind. I went outside and grabbed my old broom. I brought it in and sawed the handle off, then found some long shiny nails in my junk drawer. I started to pound them through the broom handle, this made a nice spiked spear.
By this time my water was boiling, so I proceeded into the kitchen. I grabbed two hot pads, didn’t want to burn my hands. I picked up the pot of boiling water, then carried it into the living room. I began to pour it on his back, and the skin sizzled forming blisters instantly!
“There, now you had your bath asshole!” I shouted. “Your sins have 'almost' been washed away.”
He is obviously in pain and screaming, but I hear nothing again. His eyes go closed? He must have passed out? Am I that boring her fell asleep on me?
I kicked him conscious, then I inserted the spiked wooden broom handle in his anus. I pushed it as hard as I could, the skin started to tear, and the crimson life-fluid ran red. In and out I went with the broom, and thought. “Now I just fucked you like you fucked me!”
I finally noticed, “There's an unpleasant amount of blood on the floor. I ripped apart his life like he ripped apart mine. I smiled, and picked up the hammer; smashing every bone in his feet. They popped, and I could feel them crumble through the iron hammer.
All of sudden I could hear again, he was begging. “Please, I’m so sorry, stop please!”
I laughed and headed back in the kitchen. I grabbed the biggest butcher knife in the block, and made my way back in the mutilated mess. I clutched his neck, and he knew what was on my psychotic mind!
He pursed his lips. I clutched the hammer and demolished his bone white teeth. I craved his tongue; the piece of meat that bragged about being a thief. I managed to grab his bloody tongue, and I sliced it off with a butcher's precision.
Now I don't need to worry about him talking, touching, or even walking anywhere. It was back breaking work, but it had to be done. People such as this can't go unpunished. If they get charged they get a slap on the wrist; the police allowed me to experiment with with the offender. Let’s just say I have an old friend on the force, and he owes me big time. I buried one of his problems years back!
I went and grabbed several candles I kept in the basement. I had them in case the power ever went out, but I never wondered how they were made; nor did I want to take classes to learn how to make them.
I put fire to the candles, and spaced them out evenly in a circle around the thief. The candles bled hot wax. I began to collected it in a hot pot. It painted the glass red, and shined bright.
The wax stayed in liquid form, and I was very pleased. Once I had a decent amount; I poured the evil liquid in his bloody and shattered mouth. The rest of the hot candle sticks become part of the thieves ass.
“Wow, he’s dead!” I thought. “He won’t be stealing any more credit or debit card numbers now will he!”
The following day the bank called me, “Sir, it wasn’t a man who did this, it was a woman. The police have her for questioning now.”
Later in the day the police came by, “Where is that man we dropped off yesterday?” the officer asked.
“Oh, I buried that problem officer,” I said.
“Good! We'll bring you his thief of a wife later on tonight,” the officer stated with a smile.
CREDIT & DEBIT CARD THEFT: Whether online or in person is a CRIME. In some areas, it could be punishable by DEATH!!!