It's not even close to being done, but this is the "opening" that I've made. Please read and comment, it's really worth the time.

Also, this story might disturb those of the faint heart, so please turn away if you're not ready for something pretty gritty. There's violence but that's about it; no sex or drugs or anything like that.

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He cracked his knuckles and glanced upwards toward his wall clock. The clatter of the cogs moving and hands shifting was the only sound to be heard in the room. He took the time to adjust himself to read it properly. It was midnight, straight up. He shifted back in his chair, as to face the typewriter directly. He had yet to enjoy the use of a computer with a word processor; rather, he preferred the snapping of metal against paper and the appearance of his words showing up straight in front of him. He started his paper with a traditional header.

Why I Like To Kill People
By Clyde Fox

Entry 1 – July 20th, 2004

I awoke this morning to the fresh smell of skin dissolving in bleach. It was refreshing. I went to my bathtub and shifted aside the shower curtains. There she was, lying in a pool of her own blood and other entrails. She was a frisky one. Took quite a few stabs to get her to calm down. It was well worth it, though! She was plenty young; I’d guess her to be in her early 20’s or so. Although she could have been a minor, hell if I care. I like killing women. Much easier than men. I remember my first kill…

Clyde took a second to recall what exactly happened a few months ago. He grabbed his coffee mug and sipped a little bit of the hot brew. He carefully set the mug back down, and then continued with his story.

It was sometime in May. I was SO inexperienced, it's almost unfunny. I was wandering down the sidewalks of Los Angeles, and it was rather dark. I remember my white hoodie. My favorite hoodie. It had really deep pockets, so I could conceal all sorts of things in it. I concealed a whole butcher knife down it with little to no problem. Anyways, there was this one guy who was trying to walk past me, in some sort of hurry. As common courtesy, I shifted to the left as to let him pass by. And do you know what he did? He bumped straight into me! So, I pulled my knife out, and stuck him in the back. He screamed for help, which only aggravated me more. I started slicing away, blood going everywhere. Eventually, the guy’s screams turned into yelps, which turned into whimpers. I stood there for several minutes, just waiting for him to move. Nothing. I put my hands to my knees as to crouch down, and started panting. I hadn’t known that I had usef

“Dammit,” Clyde swore to himself as he spotted the typo. He pulled out a drawer from inside his desk and grabbed a bottle of White-Out. He carefully applied a dab to the ‘f’ and went back to typing.

use d that much of my energy. I attempted to wipe the blood from my face, which was futile; I only ended up smearing it. As I was recollecting myself, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. It was a pretty little girl; I’m assuming she was 4 or 5. She was wearing a really cutesy dress, which had some Disney Princesses on it, or something along those lines. I asked her ‘How long have you been there, little girl?’ and I got no response. I asked again, in a sterner tone, ‘…How long… have you been there… little girl…?’. She just stood there, looking at me with her innocent little eyes. Then, in an instant, she screeched and yelled ‘Mommy, mommy!’ and started running away. As an instinct, I grabbed my knife and flung it at her, hitting her straight in the head, going straight through her skull and getting lodged in there. I ran over to her obviously dead body, blood pouring out. I started weeping. This wasn’t the normal weeping I regularly felt, though. No, this weeping felt good, and empowered me! I knew then that I had the power to end people’s lives at will. I knew that this wasn’t over, though. I needed to get rid of the evidence. Carefully, I grabbed onto the little girl’s skull, the body still limp, and pulled backwards as to remove my knife. As it was sliding out, it made a grotesque “slooch”. I grabbed the girl’s body and flung it over my shoulder, and grabbed the man’s body by the foot and drug it behind me. I went back into an alley where I disposed of both of the bodies into a dumpster. I ran back home, where I sterilized the knife and grabbed my shovel. I flung open my back door and ran out into my yard. I dug a hole a few feet deep. Strangely enough, the digging of this hole stuck in my mind the most. Perhaps it was because the dirt was firm and it took a lot of initiative to get it to the depth I wanted. After getting the hole to my pleasing, I threw the knife in and promptly filled the hole back up. I dropped the shovel and then collapsed on the ground, realizing what events had taken place during the past few hours.

I grinned.

-END

Clyde read over what he had composed a few times, almost amusing himself with his vivid retelling. He took a red ballpoint pen from his drawer and drew a smiley face on the top of the paper.

He then took his shovel and went to his backyard. He dug a hole a few feet deep, and tossed the paper in, then filled it back up. He carefully made sure that he tamped the ground, as to make his re-filled hole “blended in” with the rest of the yard.

Clyde wandered back inside his house, yawned, and stretched his arms out. He walked down his house’s hallway, observing the pictures on his wall, all of his former victims. He eventually came to the last door on the left. He tried to open it but found it locked; his sleepiness shielding his thoughts, as he had placed a lock on that door the other day. Shrugging, he reached down the right pocket of his sweatpants, jumbled around, and found a key. He stuck it in the door, slipping right in and allowing him to step inside the dark room.

He flipped the light switch, illuminating the ominous room. Lying on a bed was a woman, bound to the bed by rope. A cloth was wrapped around her head and into her mouth, as to keep her from making any noise.

“I wasn’t too long, was I?” Clyde asked. He waited for an answer, but remembered how she was unable to speak. Chuckling at his amateurish mistake, he slipped on rubber gloves and grabbed an old-style doctors kit, complete with scalpels and limb saws. He grabbed a tissue and wiped at his brow.

“Well then… let’s begin, shall we?”

I thought this was really good. It took a darker approach to storytelling, a look into the twisted mind of a killer.

Thank you for the great, but terrifying read.

Any thought to keep this going? I'd be interested to read on.

I've been coming back to this all day, and finally finished reading it.

It's not MY kind of reading material, but it definitely shows that you put a LOT of effort into writing this. As such I give this a good grade.

"He flipped the light switch, illuminating the ominous room. Lying on a bed was a woman, bound to the bed by rope. A cloth was wrapped around her head and into her mouth, as to keep her from making any noise. "

all the way to the very bottom... is probably what excites me the most. I kind of want to see what comes next although I really shouldn't.

It's a good story. Kinda can't wait to see what happens next.. it's kinda scary to wonder how the hell you came up with this.

I, for one, would not want to know what comes next, since I can already figure it out...

I think it's interesting how you really seemed to embrace the darker side of life in this, from a perspective of somebody who actually likes killing. It's definitely not my sort of read, but it does take note for the different kind of story it is.

A dark, horribly grotesque story, anyways...