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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1639878
A dialouge between a murderer and a serial killer.
"I don't get you. Why mutilate your victims like that? If you want someone out of the way just shoot them."

"Your tiny brain really doesn't grasp the concept does it? While a common murderer like you sees killing as a chore to get someone out of the way I see it is as art. Some artist express themselves on a canvas or with words. I choose to make the human body my canvas and unfortunately the result is death. It's the price my victims pay. Art isn't cheap."

"That's bull crap. I don't  see how a person like you could like art. I mean sure you got people fooled. Everyone thinks your normal, but it's all for show. Your like me."

"No, I'm not like you. You kill to keep your business going and to make sure secrets stay secret and you have no real value for human life. I on the other hand value and mourn every life I take. It's twisted I know, but I have loved and mourned every single one of my victims. Is that so strange? Why do you think I cling to ritual. Sure I killed in other ways and I could change my pattern if I wished, but my ritual allows me to know my victim."

"This is almost to much. Now your telling me that you care for your victims? You actually want me to believe this crap?"

"Just because I wouldn't pass a psych test doesn't mean I can't feel. Sure sociopaths have trouble in that area, but that's not my issue. I get to know them and then take pleasure as I gut them and hang them somewhere where there insides will be seen by all. All that bottled up rage just rushes out and sheer ectasy fills me up. I feel like a kid again sitting on santa's lap."

"I still don't see why you can't just shoot them. Why gut them and hang from some public place with their own insides like that. It's sick."

"It's simple really. I enjoy it. What's the point if there is no flair or creativity. What's the point if you stop enjoying your work. The day I no longer see a point is the day I stop or when the cops catch me. Hopefully the cops catch me. I didn't ask to be a monster it just happened."

"Really. You didn't ask for this? Are you trying to tell me you were normal once?"

"Yeah I was. Which brings me to you. You don't honestly think that a serial killer would confess their crimes to you and let you live would you. And that beer you've been sipping it's been drugged. A few more minutes and you'll be at my mercy. You see I was normal until you came along and pushed me off the edge. Consider this payback. Took me a few years to track you down. You killed my sister and nearly killed me. Your going to be my finest piece of art."
© Copyright 2010 Elizabeth GraceWood (lihana at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1639878-A-murderer-meets-a-serial-killer