The Best
The room was lit by a single large flat screen TV. Police cars, ambulances, and news casters filled the scene. A man jumped over the couch, brushed his hair back and pushed his gold horned rimmed glasses up his nose.
“Police are saying this is the worst killings they have seen in years. Fourteen men and women have been found in pieces around the city. No suspects have been listed yet”
The screen flipped to the outside of an apartment building and then followed the captain of police to the outside of an apartment door.
“These have been the worst serial killings we have seen in a long time, who has done this will pay the ultimate price. I won’t stop till they are caught”
The man clicked the mute button and stood up into the projected light.
“Worst? Why is it always the worst?” He turned to his left. A set of eyes cried out to him. He walked over to the wall and flicked the lights on. “Do you see that? or I guess, hear that, worst”
The man snatched a large knife from the table. Bound to a chair was a young women, her eyes were large circles that were stained by tears. She struggled against her bonds and screamed through the gag at him.
“Stop that, what do you mean? You don’t know what your talking about. Fourteen” The man with the knife was young, thin, square jaw line and semi brown hair. He looked like an old school librarian. Dressed in black slacks, a tweed vest and a white button up shirt that was rolled up before his elbows. “I’m the best, not the worst”
He shook his head and pulled a chair in front of the bound women. She extended trying to threaten, but he waved her off with his knife.
“Look, I’m going to tell you a secret, yeah? Okay okay, here it goes. Those other things out there, the second rate serial killers, murders, what ever you call them. They cut their prizes up while they are alive.” The man shook his head and rolled his eyes “Like how are you going to get clean cuts if they are moving all around or blood is flowing so hard? You aren’t. Yeah yeah use drugs and all that, blah blah, doesn’t work, tried it. Does it look like I have time to surgeon people? To many people to get to. What a pain. Also I am going to tell you something else. That police captain. I have had coffee twice with him. Twice! and I told him TWICE that I was the serial killer. I told him, you have to start calling me the best, not the worst. This schmuck didn’t believe me. I tell everyone what I do, no one cares, what a sick game this is huh?”
The man return the chair to the table and walked back over to the women. Her energy was running out. The screaming, struggling and rationalizing were taking a toll on her. Her eyes fluttered to stay awake. Then she felt her arms being unshackled and the gag removed from her mouth.
“All right, all done.” the man said.
The women stood up weakly and stared at the man.
“Your letting me go?” she said hoarsely
The man reached for her and spun her around to see the chair she was bound to. There she was. Sitting, blood running from her neck and down her chest and pooling at feet of the chair.
“Sorry, your dead, But good news or I mean, bad news? Maybe both, you take it the way you want, you have been dead for a couple days” he said returning to the couch and flipping the channels until it hit another news station.
The women stood staring. Distant. A void. If that was her, who was she now. She turned and looked at the man sitting on the couch. He was now eating a stick of jerky. In a lul she moved to the couch and sat next to him.
“Do you care to explain?”
The man ripped off another head of jerky and pushed his glass up “Look, I’m good at something. Being a serial killer. The best, already am. I have even serial killed serial killers” He grinned and gave a thumbs up to her “Now you may ask what is all this ghost stuff that you are experiencing and this jazz. I serial kill people that have been missed by the grim reaper. Here” He pulled out a cylinder object. It was smooth metallic black. It pulsed with a cold energy. “Look at this” with a quick flick of his wrist a ghostly parchment draped from the cylinder. Fog emitted around the paper. “This list, which is updated all the time, is of those that death has missed. That car accident that you survived a couple of days ago, nah, you didn’t”
The women looked closer at the scroll. The names were jet black against a faded white parchment. They seemed to faze in and out and some would even disappeared before he eyes.
“Pretty cool eh? Well I had a dilemma on my hands. See I’m a natural born killer. Yet! I had an inner conflict. I like people and humanity, but damn, that feeling of” He made a stabbing motion with the beef jerky stick “and the life just seeping out, nothing like it. So one day, I just asked the sky. What should I do and Bam!” he leapt off the couch and stomped around “a bear came running straight out of the woods were I was, It’s teeth, claws ready and sliced me down.” he gave a laugh “Just ate me right there. When I awoke there it was, death with a contract and oh check this out” The man extended his hand towards the knife which was sitting on the table behind them, it wobbled then flew from the table into his palm. “My scythe”
The women made no motion, her face was stoic and internally she felt nothing,but exhaustion. No confusion over the whole situation, no anger over what she had gone through, just pure exhaustion.
“So what now? Heaven?”
“We wait. Death will show up and take you somewhere” He flopped back down next to her “So in the mean time” the TV unmuted “Jerky?” he held out a fresh stick to her.
The women sighed.
She grabbed the jerky.
-
This story was inspired by a irrational situation of a serial killer seeing that they were being called the worst, when if you took the stats, they were the best. Such as having the most kills or never getting caught. Also the thought of being good at something that is unmoral. As if what would happen if you asked the person who was going to kill you why they were doing it? and they said, “Well I am good at this”
I also remember seeing a Japanese movie where the serial killer would produce art from his victims, because it was his inspiration and what he was good at. This is sorta like that. I took a fun angle with it though, because While being morbid, being to morbid is sorta a drag.