The Swinging Head

Sandy waited in the middle of a field, I had told her to wait there, she was none to the wiser.  Soon she will be dead, and it will be I who commited the deed.  The rights to her death will be mine.  I will be called the Butcher, and I will be published and recorded for being the best serial killer there was.  Yes, soon.  I arched my cross bow and I aimed for her stupid little head. 
I had practiced on apples. Because I knew her head to be stupid and small.  I could hit 4 out of 5 apples on a bad practice. I was feeling very confident that I could hit her stupid little apple head now. It would crack in two like the apple.  It would splatter across the grass and she would be dead.
Sandy told me she liked me and that she wanted to kiss me. But I don't even think she's pretty. She's too skinny and there's too much fat on her neck and she's just plain ugly.  So that's why I let go of the arrow and I shot her stupid apple head in two.  Stupid dead girl. Girls shouldn't fancy each other anyway. Stupid girl.
I looked at Sandy's body and the arrow didn't blow off her head like I wanted it too. Instead it stuck out of her head, only a little bit of blood poured from the arrow.   Her eyes were glazed over but wide open. She didn't even look at anything. She looked like she was day dreaming and fell asleep.  Like a pig.  She was a pig. Covered in dirt and shit.  She deserved to die.
Her lips looked soft so I kissed her. She looked prettier now that she was dead. I decided I would cut off her head and store it in the freezer so I could kiss it when I wanted to and she didn't have to talk back like she always would.
I carried Sandy's head home by her hair, her head bounced back and forth making her look ridiculous.  But people were walking over and I had left her body in the field and still had her head in my hands so I ran.  As I did I could see more people come and I had to drop her head in a ditch than a stream of water ran through.   It was a man and a woman who approached me.  They  looked like people I  know, so I pulled my jacket over my clothes so the blood wouldn't show.
I could see Sandy's mouth filling up with water.
 "It'll be okay, Sandy." I said as she got wetter by the minute.
The couple passed and I hid with her head until they had finally left. Sandy looked so pretty.
"I love you." Sandy said to me.  Blinking, she looked at me lovingly. 
"I love you too." I think I did.  I huddled her up to my chest and sang a her a lullaby. She was so pretty I didn't want to kill anyone again too soon.
As the couple passed I went back to her decapitated body to try and reattach her head but it wouldn't stay on.  Sandy was always so stupid. She never could work out how to function properly.  I gave up and I thought about who I could kill next.  
Me and Sandy would make could serial killers. We'd be called the butchers. 
It was a thought I slept on as I huddled up against Sandy in the bed.   She was stupid but she wasn't too bad while she stared at me. She was pretty when she was quiet.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Last Sketches of Alice

Prologue It was the blizzard that kept her indoors.   So it was from the sanctuary of her bedroom that Alice watched the snowfall. She brought out her notebook and began to draw the lines of the snowflakes as they spiralled out on the window. They began to web, appearing to make cracks in the glass.   As if a spider was waiting for its prey. It was the first days of winter. And the first time Alice heard about him . She spiralled the ice onto her paper, the pencil askew as she heard the fatal screams from next door.   A mans head rolled on to the ice below stuck like a fly onto the frozen web. Chapter 1 Static played from Alice Harbinger’s walkie-talkie, a voice was trying to reach her. It hummed with the stray flies.   Alice lifted her walkie and flicked the switch, turning the dial, tuning out the feedback. Crccht…. “Welcome to Willholme…”Chrcct.   The voice belonged to a man, his voice deep but gentle. “…Bill?.” Rccct… “Alice!” fzzr “Shouldn’t you be running this place? Maybe not ta
Read more

The Skull Thief

The Skull Thief The following is taken from the laptop of local author Sebastian Doyle. Found dead the morning of Friday 1 st December, 2017.   The following has been released by public demand. They will be longer any further communications with the Doyle estate. We ask that the public please respect the wishes of the diseased family. We now consider the mystery behind Sebastian Doyle’s death now closed with the release of this document as we now consider this to be a full confession of the events of that occurred in 1992 and his eventual death in 2018. Transcription as Follows I was only a boy in 1992.   My mother had long given up on keeping track of me and I was free to run wild in my neighbourhood.   Whenever I would come home I would have a look of guilt.   I was sure there was something I’d done wrong.   Looking back you realise how trivial it all was.   How petty theft didn’t take you to prison, or how breaking windows in abandon buildings were almost a right
Read more

Love and Aliens

Few realise the real extreme of what aliens can really do to our planet. I was wrong to assume they would come in peace or just show their friendly faces and disappear again till we next need them, it was definitely an ideal dream; I see that now. I remember, it wasn't too long ago when they fist came. Me and some friends were looking in a abandoned factory, the insides were dirty and unkempt, we loved it. We wanted to explore more of it, the hollow rooms felt like a playground to us, the final room lead to a floor which lead to us to a garden like that of a terrace house. And surrounding it were just that, terrace houses, lined synchronised with the gardens lined just the same. The gardens would have appeared like a green field to an onlooker. We were happy, we knew where we were going, we had been in that abandoned factory before, it was a place to be in the sorrowful little town we lived. It was an old factory none the less the houses were built long after
Read more