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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Dark · #1916426
Twisted Tales Entry: A man mistakes intent.
  Night...it brings to life all the horrors and all the creatures of questionable persuasion.  Instead of concealing the things that whisper from the walls and dark corners that can't be clearly seen into, or that which goes bump in the night...no, but rather it would give them form and substance allowing them the powers to impose a more sinister presence, giving their whisper's more volume.

  Can't be sure what's real anymore, the noises from out of the dark or even the creatures themselves that now inhabit
my house at night.  They move about and taunt me at their leisure as if I'm the guest in my house.  My presence seems
to enrage them beyond reason.  They are not as yet solid enough for me to make out exactly what they are hissing at me.
But their whispers are taking form, for I hear them better tonight than in their past visits.  By the next visit I may hear their
words and maybe why they haunt me so, or if they want to hinder my work.

  Won't be long now and dawn will be breaking and in doing so, forcing the dark to retreat.  Taking with it the foul creatures and their infernal whispers and hissing.

    "Man, I'm so tired, the kind of tired that makes death seem like a good idea, at least you get to rest, right?  I mean, if death
doesn't offer rest, then my soul is truly cursed.  I haven't slept in days, well at least not for more than an hour or so at a
time, and only after...it's nice after.  I'm always numb after and numb feels better than feeling your soul rot."

  When the light finally chases away the dark, along with all it's inhabitants, I'm left to myself and I start my coffee to serve
as backup to me clearing my head.  I'll need my caffeinated friend.  Clearing my head is important for the work I have lined up for tonight.  I have to be able to perform my tasks and watch out for the creatures in the dark to make their move against me.

  Now, down to business.  Who are we having over this afternoon to assist me in my work for this evening?  Oh yes, that's right, Megan.  Her boyfriend is out of town for the week and she is not the kind of girl who spends the night alone.  Not if she could help it.

  So, needless to say, my invitation to dinner was warmly accepted.  From her look and demeanor, she was expecting more than just dinner....I would not disappoint her.

  Alright, what do you feed a twenty-one, very energetic blond, well built waitress model/actress?  She would probably be more excited for a bowl of Mac and Cheese with a hot dog cut up in it, than any grown up dishes I could think to whip up.  Hmm....21 years old and already considered a whore by everyone in the neighborhood, but so were all the younger women of the community.  What happened with the youth of today...why aren't they thinking?  It's the rotten kids spreading their rot to "would be good kids".

  Oh, my, look at the time.  Megan will be here soon.  I need to prepare.

  Two hours later......

  There's the door...must be her.  I bring her in telling her to please sit down, dinner wouldn't be long and to make herself comfortable.  She complies and I fixed her a drink.  I'm thinking...why should I even feed her.  Wouldn't that be like feeding the rot with the good?  She can have the drink, but tonight's events were going to be moved up from tonight during sex, to while she is having her drink and admiring her shoes.

  Sure enough, the second sip was enough for her to notice and make mention of her sparkly high heel shoes.  It was a droll enough conversation to keep thoughts of not going through with it far at bay, in other words I know I'm doing the right thing.  I'm saving someone who might be a great addition to the community from unwanted ensnarements with the cleverly disguised rot. 

  Can't put it off any longer, must cut the rotted flesh from the good.  My gaze lifts from the back of her head and quickly scans the room.  Wasn't but an instant until my eyes locked on the glass coffee table in front of Megan.  There on it sat a bronze statue, an 18 inch tall interpretation of Julius Caesar.  That would do.

  As I made my way around to the front of the couch to inquire of Megan as to how her drink was, she looked up to me with those big brown eyes, all shining and sparkling and her freshly glossed lips stretched to the limits, smiling at me.  She sure is pretty....too bad she has the rot.  Nothing can save her now, I'm actually doing her a favor.  She would thank me if she understood. 

  The sounds of approaching demons quicken me...I grab the bronze statue and strike the unsuspecting girl in the crown of her head.  Wasn't where I was aiming, but it most certainly got the job done.  I wish I could say it was a clean kill, but it wasn't....she felt it. 

  The base of the statue had entered her skull, sending fragments of bone with bits of brain and hair flying in all directions.  She flung backwards, looking at me, blood running down her face.  Her eyes locked on mine with a look of surprise, betrayal and fear.  That look meant success.  The rot knew it was going to die.  So I watched it leave this world as Megan's life blood leaves the gaping hole atop her head.

  During the purification of Megan, I hadn't noticed the dark had crept in and made itself at home, watching this thing I do with silent approval.  They seem to applaud my efforts.  Wonder why the change?  The creatures that once hid in corners now come out to lick the fresh kill from my home.  They weren't angry at me.  I see that now.  They were hungry.  The grotesque little creatures fed on the rot that these rotten little girls cultivate in their dark little bodies.

  I know my purpose now, and why these creatures have been visiting me.  They were sent to me.  They are to help me and I them.  This changes things.  I now have confirmation that my work matters.

  Do you have any idea what this means!?  This means I can rest now.  Sleep will come.  I can continue the culling of the rot, until my community shines like the beacon it is without the blemish of rot.           


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