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Rated: ASR · Monologue · Horror/Scary · #1641416
My first attempt at 1st person narrative, based around my own Character The Butcher
      What am I? To be entirely honest, I'm not sure what I am. I suppose I am a One Of A Kind, there's no-one else like me out there – which I surmise is a good thing; the police forces here can't even control me, so I would dread to think how the rest of the world would deal with such an unusual species. 'Cos that's what I am – a species; not human, not animal; not an entity. I'm an anomaly.
      I never wanted it to be this way. I was young, on top of my game in some sense of the words, when He found me. Everything went black, and cold. When I woke up, I was somewhere eerily familiar, a place I had not been since my days at Camp, in the days when it had been a happy experience. I was confused, my head was hurting, and to tell you the truth – I was scared. I tried to escape, but found myself unable to – I had been shackled to the cold hard fireplace.
      After several days, weeks - who knows – I found myself becoming him, he had been warping me into a twisted, despicable carbon copy of him. He had killed Deron. Even made the papers report on it – I hate to think what that news report did to my parents.  I was burdened with the speed and agility to match him, not to forget the break-neck strength and heightened senses  as well. Or maybe I should see them as a Gift...?
      My first kill was a harmless doe, feeding in the forest. I ran after her as she fled, terror shining in her beady eyes, and when I caught her, I twisted her neck right round. I heard the sickening pop of the vertebrae and felt the doe go limp beneath me.
      At first I was terrified as the deer had been, frightened of what I had become. I had never killed anything before, had never wanted to no matter how tough my school-life had been.
      The next kill was him, The Butcher himself. I killed him out of anger, out of revenge, out of frustration for tearing me away from the life I had lived, when everything had started to be better for once. No bullies, no shitty high school; no worries.
      It felt good, it felt right... It felt justified.
      But it dawned on me as I buried his body by That Cabin, that I could never go back to my normal life. I could never go back to anything now, I was dead to the mortal world now.
     
      I became a recluse, and stayed at the cabin, dwelling on what I had become – Thinking about what I should do now. As the days and nights and weeks went on, the voice started to reveal itself. His voice, in the back of my brain, 24/7.Ordering me to get out into the wild, and show everyone that the Butcher was not dead – he was still alive and kicking, living in me.
      And so I did.
      I can't begin to explain why I did, but when I killed, a satisfaction surged through my body like a sexual climax. It was that good. And so I killed more. More and more. Venturing into different towns as far as my unnaturally powerful legs could carry me.
      I had, and still have, a conscience. I know what I am doing, I remember every terror-stricken face I see before the machete comes down... every pleading whisper... every last breath.
      And then She came onto the scene again. My darling sweetheart from our teenage years, the love of my life.
      Like a love-sick puppy I was hooked on her again. I began watching her from the shadows as she went to work, went out shopping, even when she lay asleep in her bed.
      When I made the decision to reveal myself to her, I knew it had been the right choice. I could sense that as much as she hated what I was, she could help but be hopelessly in love with me... I adore having that effect on the women...
      She still cannot believe what I am to this day, my evil deeds when the outcomes real, and neither can I. But she says if I'm a good boy, and cover my tracks, as long as we're not captured I can do whatever the Hell I like. Man, I love this woman.
     
      I know I am evil encapsulated into one entity. My raw strength, visceral agility, inhuman speed, and honed senses.
And I love it.
      I guess I am just an unbelievable breed, whatever the Hell I am.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1641416-An-Unbelievable-Breed