Short stories

by DepressedDevil

Summary:

Basically just some short stories, I probably won't expand on any of them. Each chapter is an individual story and they have no connection. I'm also currently making a podcast of these stories. So I'll link the episodes along with the chapters. Little warning, this fic has a lot of mentions/descriptions of murder, death, cheating, torture and more to be added, if you don’t want to read that, I’d skip this fic. Also, if you know me irl, no need to mention this, please.

Chapter 1: One last goodbye

It was that fleeting hour of day when the moon and sun were high and bright at the same time. Like many things in my life, these summer nights wouldn't last much longer. I sat quietly on a log thinking about my decision. My life for hers. We all knew she wouldn't survive the cancer so we went all the way. We called on Hades for a bargain, a bargain of life and death, one for the other. He told us the terms of sparing her life, for on saved life, one must be given willingly. so I made a choice, one that would change, and end, my life. This was my last day on this spinning rock that we call home. well, more like my last night. I was watching the sun go down for the last time and I think I should have enjoyed life more, if it was to end so quickly. We were just married. At least we got to spend a year together. I think of her mother, who basically became mine after my parents disowned me. she had been practically showering me with love before I left the house for some peace and quiet. I'm so grateful and lucky to have had her in my life. And her, the love of my life. She was so bubbly, confident, wonderful, beautiful, elegant, perfect. I don't know how else to describe her. She was so perfect, I married a perfect woman. Who loved me, a woman so broken and cracked by my past that I could barely live life. SHe saved me from that state and brought me back to life, metaphorically, and now I will give my life for her. I hope she knows I love her, and always will, even when I'm gone. But now it's time to go, I see death's dark hood in the distance, come to collect me. I'm ready. I've written this all down so that the woman of my dreams will know I did this all for her. I love you dear, forever and always. Goodbye

Notes:

Here's the episode: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0dG9YnY3KhOooUnemXuRZl?si=47MXjvpRQFO57EBuhZz4_Q

Chapter 2: The dead lovers

Summary:

I didn't write this one a friend did and I think it's really good.

He had never been the kind of person who pinches himself to make sure he's awake, but that night he did it at least three times. Looking back, he couldn't decide if it was the best night of his life or the worst. When he walked into the restaurant to see his dead wife having a nice glass of champagne, all by herself. At first he couldn't process what he was seeing then, as if nothing was amiss, he went to sit with her. The moment she looked up from the menu her face went white.
“Well, long time no see, darling.”
He had said. She hadn't answered, too surprised by his presence.
“How was life down in Hell?”
He continued on, maybe he had been too passive aggressive, however, she was here instead of in her grave, six feet under. She chugged the rest of her fancy alcohol and wiped her pretty mouth with her arm in a gruesome way.
“Life is Hell, you're dead too honey.”
She answered in a detached voice.

Notes:

This chapter's episode:https://open.spotify.com/episode/39Yng0ZgiQqCKJWrv61pAK?si=y_PjuEnPRKydyn1ckytmBA

Chapter 3: The monster

Ever since the creature crawled out of the lake, the whole town had begun to show their true colors. The uncertainty, the fear and the fascination combined into a potent cocktail that brought out the best in some, the worst in others. The creature wasn't scary, it was simply there, watching. I was the first one to notice it. The.. thing was just standing there, dripping wet, at midnight. It had large eyes, they seemed deeper than the dark lake we were living at. It didn't have a nose, instead it had a hole in its chest, going up and falling back down. When I first saw it, my curiosity had taken over every cell in my old body. I approached it, and started to feed it. I later realized it didn't eat the food I bought it. I had also realized the reaction of the villagers. They were terrified. They grew more suspicious of one another, more scared, they wouldn't trust me anymore. Some would even disappear. They started seeing me as an accomplice since I seemed to be the only person to actually enjoy the monster's presence.

Chapter 4: Spirits

She had been working in the lab for decades, so long they would probably name the place after her, and she had never seen anything like this. This would change everything we knew about spirits. A discovery like this explained why some souls stayed, forever roaming on earth, instead of moving on to the underworld. It would also allow us to speak with them without employing any supernatural means, using only science. The discovery on how to control death. The most revolutionary part of it being the ability to make someone die but with a conscience and the capacity to revive them easily. That specific discovery would allow us to do so much. The scientist who made this discovery talked about what motivated her to figure this out, she said “With this technology, I will finally be able to say to my brother that I'm sorry for leaving. We could allow people to talk to their deceased loved ones.”

Chapter 5: The inauguration to end the world

Summary:

This one is a little bit different, and I'm thinking of maybe continuing it separately.

This was no ordinary inauguration. The soon-to-be new president looked out at the crowd, not sure how many would still be cheering a year from now. Were they ready for the first commander-in-chief that wasn't human. The first one that would bring with him the worst entities forth from the immaterial world. They wouldn't, of course,be ready. Nobody truly was, no matter what they believed.It is simply too strange to see the air in front of your own eyes start to rip, shining light on a hidden dimension. To see the fabric of reality rip would simply be too much for the mortal mind. These humans would slowly go insane, to the point of asking for death. And he would offer that death, but it wouldn't be quick and painless, quite the opposite. It would start with them seeing and feeling the worst things their unconscious could come up with. Then he would bring them back, letting the reality of what was happening wash over them. And them slowly start to torture them, while keeping them from dying. Then he would place them in a room with weapons and wait to see how long it would take for them to kill themselves. Or if they didn't, how long it would take for him to get bored and murder them slowly.

Update from a survivor on the run: It has been a year, more than half of the world's population is dead, most killed themselves, the rest killed by Him, the one who comes for all. Death is a daily occurrence for everyone, we are trying to survive.

Chapter 6: The necklace

She never thought she would see it again, but there it was, nestled in a box of random mementos. The sight of it brought memories flooding back. Her first thought was “what is this necklace doing here?” She thought she had thrown it away long ago. Then the memories flooded her mind. Memories of houses exploding whenever she brought it inside, of people getting debris right through their bodies. And then she realized, that was my body, I'm dead. She had watched the necklace explode before her eyes. Making half of the supporting beam fall right through her torso, she had watched her body as she exited it. She watched it as her neighbor walked into the house, and as she called 911. She watched as the doctors said they could do nothing, she watched as her body was cremated and as people cried at her funeral. But even with all this in her mind, all she cared about was that she had seen the necklace get destroyed by debris. The cursed object would never hurt another person ever again.

Chapter 7: The hitman

Summary:

So I don't usually do this but I feel like I should specify that all names in this are entirely fictional or are used fictionally.

“Do we have a deal?” He looked me in the eye, oozing confidence. I had visualized this moment, and my brain knew I was ready, but I had to make an effort to keep my hand from shaking as I reached out and took his. “We have a deal,” I replied. Now all I had to do was slip away in the night and take the next flight to the Stars Mansion, Washington DC. Abigail Williams had to disappear. It would be easy, I had done it before, and I would do it again. No blood, no sound, just death. I knew my place, it was my job to make my employer's relations disappear when he wanted them gone. For a price of course, money is valued over life in this line of work. My employer was paying me quite a large sum for this ‘accidental’ loss of a loved-one. You could say I'm corrupt but, quite frankly, I don't care. As long as you don't become an inconvenience, because everybody is replaceable.

Chapter 8: A murderer’s love

Summary:

As with the last chapter, all real names and locations are used fictionally.

Dating has been compared to a game, a sport, a hunt, a dance, and it is all those things most of the time. This time, it was more like skydiving without a parachute. We met while I was out in the streets of Toronto on a mission to find and kill George McHuntley, coincidentally, her horrible boss. I met her in the building's cafe after washing his blood off my hands in the bathroom. I wasn't usually this messy. She asked me if I had seen a tall man, with a small bristly mustache, gray hair, brown eyes and an obvious temper. I told her no, thought I had seen him, and killed him. She told me he was her boss as I invited her for a coffee. She told me that she had seen him come in here and was waiting for him . I already thought she was beautiful then. A few weeks later, we met in a cafe across the street. But this time it was a date as we had stayed in contact after our first encounter. throughout our conversations I had to admit to her my job as a hitman. Somehow she didn't run away and guessed pretty quickly that I was the reason she had a new boss, at least he seemed a lot better. I realized pretty soon that I was falling for this tall, gentle, independent woman. That was ten years ago. We have been married for five years now and both work for a shadier part of the government together as we raise our two beautiful children. It's funny to think that such a gruesome act can create such a wonderful romance story.

Chapter 9: The ghost vampire

I have been haunting this museum for 39 years. I like to think my presence has helped to keep the place interesting to its clientele. The newspapers call me the ghost vampire. Each night the brave ones and the thieves who dare to stay become my prey. I have a deal with the management that they won't leave people there at night for shifts and let me deal with it in exchange for not talking about the bloodless bodies. For the last 39 years my prey has been my only tie to real life. Since my untimely death by a thief who entered the museum during my night shift. (Ironic isn't it?) I had only been a night guardian for two months at that point. I felt his fangs slip into the soft skin of a human’s neck before dying. Then I somehow am back as a ghost, alienating myself from the rest of the vampire population in the city. Now my revenge is exacted through onto each and every person brave, or stupid, enough to stay after dark, when the monsters come out. Each time I keep their soul in an object they came with. I gaze at them, those objects with souls screaming out in pain. I stare at them and feel the satisfaction that comes with rightful vengeance. During the day I got back to the object I myself am cursed to.

Chapter 10: Pink hair and a tattoo

Summary:

As with a few other chapters, all names are used fictionally

Muriel showed up to her 90th birthday party with her hair dyed bright pink. Her daughter, Joanne, staggered, “Mom! What the, is that a tattoo?” she pointed to the candy skull on her retired librarian mother's forearm. “Yep!” said Muriel with her chin high and proud. Joanne took a deep breath and her whole body started to shake. Her sister, Sylvie, couldn't control herself as she broke into uncontrollable sobs. Their father, Muriel's husband, dropped his glass in shock. Everyone else at the party was dumbstruck. They all knew what the pink hair and tattoos meant since Muriel had joked about it her whole life. She would get crazy pink hair and the tattoo she had always wanted the day before her death. This was her last day. The kids were too young to understand why the adults started to cry but as they saw their tears they too joined the chaos that was unfolding before Muriel's eyes. “Why the drama? There's still a day left,” She asked in a joyful manner. This was her last day and she would make the most out of it.

Chapter 11: Blood and snow go well together

Summary:

This one is a bit darker, I think. Idk

The snow was up above my knees, and all noise seemed to be buried below it. The full moon's light glowed against its surface and glinted my cloudy breath. I had set out into the cold because I had been seen exiting the house with blood on my hands. Out of the house where someone had died. I had thought that maybe if I went far away from the neighborhood I could simply wash the blood off my hands and then head to another town and pretend to be a lost hiker. My hope soon turned to despair as the sound of the police helicopters got closer and less muffled. I was lucky I was in the forest but even with that advantage I would have to be very good at hiding in the snow to escape detection. After they had passed I started to realize how cold it was. Maybe I wouldn’t make it to the town. They would find my body in the days to come and figure out who I was and what I had done. At least that way I didn't have to see my wife's betrayed face, the victim was her ex after all, and she was still friends with her. I also wouldn't have to see her face weighed down by the sadness I knew would be in her eyes as she had to identify my body. She wouldn't be as sad once she knew the truth though. Yes, that was a good idea, to just let myself die out here in the snow. I could already feel the cold seeping into my bones, never to leave again. Slowly as the cold progressed throughout me, I fell unconscious. My last thought was of my wife and how sorry I was to have hurt her.

Chapter 12: A poisoned friendship

Notes:

This chapter wasn’t written my be either, and I did as little editing as possible, so as to keep the original. However, I did have to change some small details. Also, all names are used fictitiously and represent no one.

With your best friend by your side, nothing can ever go wrong, unless your best friend is the reason it all goes wrong in the first place. A betrayal like that leaves a mark. When I saw her at the café, I didn’t think anything was wrong at first, I even waved at her. That was my first big mistake of the night. I sat down two tables away from her, so she could join me if she wanted. A waiter came over and I ordered a latte. I flipped my phone out of my pocket to text my boyfriend, who was supposed to meet me here. My friend looked over, saw me on my phone, and took hers out as well. I didn't think much of that, and that was my second mistake. She got up, I thought to go to the bathroom and I looked out the window to see Justin, my boyfriend. Then the three things happened almost at the same time. Justin walked in the door, my friend walked back to her table and the waiter brought over my latte. But Justin didn't even look at me. He had eyes only for my friend. He sat down at Her table, and the waiter poured a clear liquid into my latte. But I barely noticed, too distracted by what happened next. My friend gave me the evilest look I've ever seen on any mortal, then leaned into Justin and kissed him, right on the lips. I reeled back in shock, my mind trying to process the horror I was seeing. To try and distract myself, I took a sip of my latte, and that was my third mistake. Nothing happened for a little bit as I turned over the events of the last few moments in my head. Then my head started to turn, I felt nauseated, like I was going to pass out. Then my body started seizing up, my friend had stopped kissing Justin, and was there in a flash. “Poor Stacy, never realized she's been cheated on until her dying day. And when she's six feet under, she'll realize her best friend's wrongs have been righted.” My best friend no longer whispered in my ear.

Notes:

Just a little addition to this chapter,
A: I do not condone cheating in any way
B: I didn’t really think of mentioning this earlier, but I don’t condone murder in any way either.
As mentioned, I changed as little as possible, but did edit Stacy’s death’s details because, after doing some research, the effects didn’t match the effects and timeline of ingesting cyanide. The poison used in this is cyanide.

Chapter 13: The Accident

Notes:

But of a longer one, I think, again there was research involved, and yes, people with epilepsy are allowed to and can drive. I didn’t go that deep so my guess is that that depends on individual situation, like with many other things.

The Emergency Room was completely quiet. I could hear the monitors beeping in the patient rooms down the hall, it was so quiet. That always means trouble is coming, so I sat down, drank my coffee while I could, and waited. Sure enough, the faint sound of an ambulance's siren perked my ears, then another. Was that another? I switched the TVto the local news channel and saw a car, though it didn't really look like a car anymore, it looked more like a hunk of mangled metal. Then I saw the license plate. No. It was hers. When the police had called to say my mother was in the hospital they hadn't given me the details of what had happened. They had just mentioned an accident. I knew she had epilepsy so I'd just assumed she'd felt the symptoms coming and had pulled over. Then maybe a passerby had gone over to check on her and had found her passed out and called 911. I'd assumed she'd been driven to the hospital, checked on, they would have been told she had epilepsy and she would have been allowed to go home. I had only gotten calls for situations similar to that a few times a year, and since it happened rarely and she could tell beforehand, she had still been allowed to drive. So I had assumed she was home safe and that the call had been made while they were in the ambulance, so they would have no information yet. But that didn't match up in any way with what I was seeing. The car was in a ditch and looked like it had exploded, I thought I could see smoke but I wasn't sure. The news reporter said the crash had occurred about an hour earlier, which matched the time when I was called. That would mean that she was in one of these rooms. What state she was in, I didn't want to think about. A crash that looked that bad couldn't have consequences less than deadly for the driver. On the call they hadn't mentioned anything about her being in critical shape and wasn't too hurt, but I wasn't sure I believed them anymore. As someone who worked in the ER as an on-standby helper, I had seen a lot of bad cases, so I could imagine what someone's body would look like after something like that. But I didn't want to think of that, to imagine my mother like that.

Chapter 14: A tricked sister

Summary:

This one is a lot lighter than my previous chapter, it's also not written by me but by a friend. Enjoy the respite from the murder :) Names are used fictitiously.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” my sister replied, that look of feigned innocence in her eyes. I raised my eyebrow in the way our mother used to.
“Ok,” she continued, “If you must know… I was at the mall last night.” Oh no, was my first thought, did she see me? I hope not. “Don't you want to know why I was at the mall last night?” My eternally annoying sister said. “No, Charlotte, I truly do not.” “Are you sure?” She smirked. “Very much so.” I said vehemently. “Okay, I'll tell you,” my sister said happily. “So, I was shopping at the new boutique with Brianna, and… saw you!” I tried very hard not to panic. Charlotte continued, “And do you know what I say?” My sister clearly knew everything so I finally spoke. “Fine, I'm dating Tristan. He invited me to the mall last night, I was sitting with him in the food court,” “And?” said my sister, now hanging on to my every word. “And he kissed me!” I said reluctantly. “OH MY GOODNESS!! HE DID??!!” Shrieked my sister. “Wait…” I said. Something didn't add up here. “You want to know the best part of what you just told me?” My sister interrupted. “What?” I answered nervously. My sister smiled evilly. “I wasn’t actually there.”

Chapter 15: Trusting people always ends badly

Summary:

This one is light in the way that it isn't physically gruesome, however, it is about mental issues, so...

It had been a long time since I trusted someone--really trusted them, not just outwardly saying “I trusted you” while inwardly keeping my options open. Ever since he had decided to spread those rumors about me. It's a classic friend to bully story, so clichéd I never thought it would happen to me. I trusted him, told him everything, then he went and told everybody else. Then he used what I had told him against me. The only problem he really caused in the long-term is that I haven't trusted anyone since. That's a bit ridiculous right? I mean, it happened ten years ago. But now, I always tell people half-truths, hide what I feel, for Pete's sake, nobody even knows where I live, not even my mom. I guess it just really marks you, when someone breaks your trust like that. At least I'm honest to myself, though I wasn't for a long time. I kept telling myself that he hadn't hurt me, that I was ok. Until I accepted that I wasn't.

Chapter 16: The closed door

Summary:

Kind of lighter? Idk
Also I have no new episodes recorded yet, I’ve had no motivation to do it. Sorry

My grandparents were so predictable, I could have recorded them and replayed it every time I visited. We followed the same script, with the same secondary characters, the same costumes. I imagined them frozen in position when I wasn't there, ready to start again from the beginning. I had had enough, so when I tried to change it up a little they seemed so startled I had gone back to the script. But I tried again later, and they simply didn't seem to be able to respond in any way. Instead, they just stopped and stood there, as if frozen. One day, after multiple failed attempts, my grandmother turned towards me and said “We have not been programmed to follow what you are saying. Please stop.” So yeah, that's how I found out my grandparents were robots. I didn't tell anybody, but now I wish I had. They went off script one and said I should stay for the weekend. I was a bit startled, but honestly, I was too afraid to say no. When I showed up a few hours later, with a bag with things I needed, they had gone back to normal. But when I entered the guest room to put my stuff down, I heard the door close and lock behind me. They left me here, it's been 5 days. I heard my grandfather through the door on the second day saying that I had disrupted the programming and must be eliminated. I wished I hadn't left my phone on the table, but, of course, wishes don't come true. I just hope they'll let me out soon, I'm really thirsty.

Notes:

Little bit of info:the average human can only survive about a week without water, depending on the temperature. For example, in the desert, in 39°C weather, the longest a person has survived without water was 7 days. But in room temperature, studies have only gone to 3-4 days to make sure nobody dies. So depending on the temperature of the house, the character could survive about a week or more, it really depends.

Chapter 17: Following orders

Summary:

Little warning, this one is very culty, it talks about being initiated into a cult and killing for them. So if you don't want to read that I'd suggest skipping this chapter. But also gives the idea of being brainwashed into one and not realizing it. I also did a lot of research and learnt that most people in cults don't know they're in cults and that one of the first steps in recruitement is usually love-bombing. Which is making people feel acceptedby showeing them with love, this is kind of shown by the way the character believes this is their place. I'm thinking of possibly expanding on this one, it's a really interesting concept.

Notes:

As usual, all names are used fictitiously and aren't based on anybody.

I looked at my watch for the third time in as many minutes. I knew I was doing it but couldn't stop myself. I'd been waiting so long, and it was almost time. I could hear my heart ticking in sync with the second hand and prayed she wouldn't be late. My brain couldn't handle it. Another hour-long minute passed before Olivia MacDonald walked past the alley where I was stationed. I then had to trail her home where I needed to deal out my boss's wishes. I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. I said that something was wrong and I was afraid while acting like she was a longtime friend. Little did she know, I was the person she should be worried about. I followed her inside to the kitchen, the only room with no windows towards the street. And with a fenced-in backyard, no one could see in. It was almost too easy. She died quietly that night, my first victim as a member of our truth. Next I had to bring her corpse to the Leaders Council and her organs would be used in my initiation ceremony. But that part wasn't my job. My job was to send her on to the Void, she wasn't worthy of leaving and as such had to be dispatched early to rid the world of her kind. It was our truth's mission in the world. It was the only way for the Elder, and through him the Gods, to accept me, to make sure I would be reincarnated. I finally had a place in our truth, the place I wanted. The place they wanted me to have.

Chapter 18: Our owner's mark

Summary:

Maybe a little bit 'Noble House of Black' /Death Eater inspired, but only the mark.

It was a rite of passage in our family, had been for generations, and I couldn't put it off any longer. I had to carve my father's name into my left forearm with the ceremonial dagger. I had put it off due to the fear of commiting to something that would truly expose to the world who I belonged to. In our society, between the ages of 16 and 20, girls had to perform this ritual, by law. The families leaders chose where, my generation's chosen spot was a relief, some families did much worse. If we resisted, we were publicly executed. It was a way of forcing horribly archaic values onto women. It basically meant that women were their father's property, and were usually used as slaves. But of course, property can be sold, bought and exchanged. Women had become a form of currency, brought down to the level of money. We were a way of proving status. If you had many women, whether or not they were born yours, you were considered a higher member of society. If you couldn't and had to sell your daughters you were a lower member of society. My family, or at least the male side, had always been of great importance, and all the women had followed the law dutifully. Most didn't even know the horror of what they were doing. We had no choice. My father had many servants, and I would be joining my mother and sisters under his thumb. I had read about a different way of living, where we were all equal, but that was not our world. I would probably never be allowed to read again. I would die without having truly lived. Like all of the other women.

Notes:

Note: I do not condone slavery and that is why even if I write about it it is as an extremely horrific way of living.

Chapter 19: A hopeful case gone wrong

Summary:

Mentions of suicide and self-harm and as usual, names are used fictitiously.

I've been a nurse long enough to know when a person is lying. Only one thing leaves a mark like that, and the quicker I can get the patient to tell me the truth, the quicker I can start them on the path to healing. This woman had scars that were too even, too regular, and in places that were easy to reach. Yet she kept insisting they were just scratches. I refused to believe her for two reasons. One, the physical proof and two, she had been brought in for cyanide ingestion, which she had miraculously survived. Among all cyanide ralted death, suicide is the most reason for having cyanide in the patient's system, in this region. By an overwhelming amount. Of course that study was done over ten years but still. I had put two and two together and had figured it out. Once I, as the mental health professional, managed to get some time alone with her she admitted it. She also said that comitting or attempting suicide and having mental health problems was heavily prejudiced against in her family. Hence why she hadn't gone for help, and why she hadn't wanted to tell me. I got her into counseling, and made sure her access to any deadly substances, like pesticides, was regulated. I met her a year ago, and two months ago, she called me to say that therapy had helped a lot. I was glad, Hye-Jin was a wonderful woman who deserved to live. Yesterday I got a call from her therapist saying that she hadn't shown up to her weekly appointment and after inquiring at home, she and Hye-Jin's sister had found her body. After the autopsy, the pathologist declared her cause of death an ingestion of chlorfenapyr.

Notes:

I used statistics from a study done in Seoul, Korea, which is how i found her name. Part of that studies conlusion was that 97.3% of cyanide-caused deaths were suicides. The study was conducted between the year 2005 to 2010. The article also mentioned pesticides are a common substance used in suicide, which is why i used it as my cause of death for Hye-Jin. I didn't really feel like searching much farther into the internet, so that's where I based this chapter. Also, chlorfenapyr is a pesticide that can be fatal, as described in article two.
1: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3834424
2:https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4126128/#:~:text=The%20symptoms%20and%20signs%20of,rhabdomyolysis%2C%20and%20mental%20state%20changes.

Chapter 20: Rain

Summary:

More murder :)

The rain didn't bother me, even as it dripped into my eyes and soaked my shoes. I barely felt it. All that mattered was that it was washing the blood off my hands fast enough. There had to be no chance that Tiff would see it. She could never know how much I enjoyed pulling the Hearts hearts out. Though I guess the correct phrasing would be cutting their hearts out. I knew most of the world thought that it was a horrible crime, but that couldn't be. I love it too much, it couldn't be wrong, I wasn't a bad person. So then why did I hide it? Because I was afraid of Tiffanys reaction, but I was going to tell her tonight. And if she tried to call for help, well, I'd finally be in the double digits. Luckily the weather app said it would still be raining, so cleaning my hands would be easy. If it came to me having to murder my best friends sister. But maybe she would understand that I'm not crazy and that there's no way it's truly a bad thing, since I'm a good person. But I do think that 99 people might disagree with that statement. They’d be wrong, right? And anyway, it wouldn’t be them, it would be the court and their families. That is, if I'm ever caught. Maybe I should get Tiffs heart, she never tells people where she’s going and her family trusts me. I would make it to a hundred without getting caught. And then I could start working towards two hundred. I don't think I'll ever forget my first Heart, the squelch of my hands around her heart was so satisfying. She had screamed until I gagged her, the next step was drowning her, I alternated between methods without pattern. I hoped that if anyone ever found the bodies and managed to date them, they wouldn't find a pattern. Though a missing heart in all of their bodies would be a pretty good indicator of a serial killer. Maybe I should take her Heart, I felt that need getting stronger. “Hi Tiff!”

Notes:

Sorry, I know there are next to no episodes, I have zero motivation to record. Also, the usage of Hearts (specifically capitalized) means his victims, in case that wasn't clear.
As usual, names are used fictitiously.

Chapter 21: A ruined life

Summary:

More suicide ☺

When the last hundred dollars left my bank account, I watched it happen in real time. Thank you technology. So, this is what rock bottom feels like, I thought. I sat in my empty apartment on the last day before my eviction, thinking maybe it wouldn't feel as bad if I hadn't been so hungover. I had nowhere to go and wished I hadn't gone out to party last night. I had been celebrating my divorce with some friends, but when I got home, I remembered our joint bank account before I passed out. The next morning, today, I had woken up late and opened my banking app just to watch the last of my money disappear. My mom had died a few months ago and she had nothing, having spent it all on surgeries to try and remove her tumor caused by lung cancer. She had Li-Fraumeni syndrome and I used to be grateful to not have it. I got married early, thinking she was the one, and I knew how short life could be,I was only twenty, my mom had been thirty-eight and my dad had died when I was just an infant. I wanted to make sure my children would grow up with me around,but I failed. I seem to fail at everything. I started to see things more clearly, despite my pounding headache. I had even failed at getting the gene, dying would have been so much easier. Luckily I still had a few bottles of whatever cheap shit Brian had left at my place. Mixed with some DXM, and death would come. It would be painful, but maybe I deserved it.

Notes:

I wonder if it was obvious that I did more research for this one? Probably, anyway, allow me to make it even more obvious.
DMX stands for Dextromethorphan and this is the artcile I used
https://kidshealth.org/en/parents/cough-cold-medicine-abuse.html
DMX is often in cough medicines, and is therefore a commonly-used component in suicide and drug use that doesn't need a prescription.

Chapter 22: An unknown woman

Summary:

Little bit different, not murder or suicide, it's grief. I really wish I couldˋve have gone more into the emotional state of the MC but it would get to long. Also, MCs gender is up to you to decide.

When you're the grim reaper, you don't make many friends, let alone get many dates. So, after all those lonely millenia, I signed up for online dating. I know, it was risky. I don't even have a decent picture of myself. But here I am, on my way to my first date with a woman named Lucy. She was 34, had two cats and was a coroner. In other words, a perfect match, according to the dating match. I had a Lucy in my list for the next two weeks to come but I didn't think it was her, the physical description didn't match her pictures. So I showed up in casual clothes, which I had bought just for this, as I didn't usually allow humans to see me, at the café. It was ten o'clock on a Tuesday and, honestly, I was pretty excited. She never showed and I hoped she had simply stood me up. Then my list made her name glow golden and my heart sank. I had found someone who's company I might enjoy and she was dead. Of course I knew I would outlive her, but at least I would have been able to enjoy a few years, if everything had worked out. Even though I'd never met her, we'd talked online and she seemed wonderful. She told me she dyed her hair, but had never told me her natural colour. Based on my list, it was brown. Her hair was dyed red the night I found her, her roots had started growing back into brown. A heart failure. I had to wake her, her soul only of course, and she walked with me to the boat, where I brought her to the tunnel. She didn't recognise me. Of course there are always thousands of deaths at any given moment around the world which is why I've always been glad I had only a small town to take care of. Unfortunately, that also meant that I had nothing to do but grieve her for two weeks straight. I grieved for a woman I didn't even know

Chapter 23: The mystery boxes

Summary:

This one definitely isn't as graphic as some other, it's a bit more hinted at.

Nothing energizes a suburb like a new family moving in, and this one was especially gossip-able. Mary dropped by with a casserole on Tuesday morning and caught a glimpse inside. She told me all about it. Open boxes were everywhere, but instead of the usual stuff of life, they were filled with stuff that seemed like it fit better in a horror movie. Skulls that she hoped were fake, lots of knives which she described as daggers and much more. As the family settled in she, as their neighbor, started to notice the strangely oversized garbage bags they would bring out weirdly often. She also told me all about the way that they left their house late at night but didn't seem to follow any regular work schedule. Their two kids didn't even leave for school. I told her maybe they were homeschooled, but truly, everything together did make me start to get suspicious. I was also a bit worried. One day she brought another pot of food over to their house and they invited her for dinner that evening. She told me she was going to try and figure out what was going on inside that house. That was July 5th, it’s now August 23rd and they still haven't found her, or her body. Mary had always been curious but, maybe this time she had gone too deep. We obviously called the police but since the family was new, and because they moved out rather quickly after her disappearance, they had very little to go on. I wish Mary had just been more cautious around these strangers, especially with just how strange they had been acting.

Chapter 24: X marks the spot

Summary:

I feel like some of the earlier ones were lighter and definitely less graphic stuff seems to have changed ig, idk. As with the other chapters, all names are used fictitiously. This one contains slightly graphic descriptions of murder and blood, so if that's not your thing, well, idk maybe skip this one. Enjoy!

A letter in the mailbox, an email in her inbox, a text, and a phone call all came from the same person on the same day. Sammy hadn’t answered any of it, but when the knock woke her at 11:48pm, she knew who it would be and that by midnight she would be lying on the floor of her kitchen, arranged in an X covered in her own blood. The ritual murders, as they were called, were all a chain of events. A letter, an email, a text, a phone call and then a knock. She walked towards the door, strangely calm. Sammy had accepted that she was going to die when she opened the door. A hooded figure walked in and followed her to her kitchen. “Why are you doing this?” She asked as she stood in the doorway. The figure said nothing and instead took a knife out. She walked closer and put her neck up against the cold metal. She didn’t care about dying, she didn’t care about living. Her murderer hesitated for a second at her willingness before slitting her throat. The first cut was tentative and just nicked her throat. The second one sliced through her right carotid artery and the third her trachea and her left artery. Sammy felt the blood start flooding in and she choked a little. Then she saw her blood shoot all over as she passed out. The murderer watched as her body hit the floor with blood covering it before setting it in an X position. He then cleaned his knife and walked out just as the clock struck twelve. Later that day they called someone and told them it was done, that all seven of them were dead.

Notes:

I think you can kind of tell I researched slitting throats for this one, I wanted as much anatomical accuracy as possible. Also, my parents 100% think smth is up with me bc I talked to them about what I was researching. Probably a bad idea.

Chapter 25: Cancelled appointments

Notes:

Hey guys, long time no see! Just posting a few chapters before returning to the abyss for a few months. Hope you like them! Btw, this one is about grief, instead of medical accuracy so if you're not in agreat spot, maybe skip it.

My manager was going to be mad that I cancelled all my appointments for the day, but she was going to have to either get over it or fire me. This was too important. I had to go see my mom. The nursing home had called me the night before with news. Her condition had reached its last stage, she would be dead by the end of the day. I got the call too late to go and see her, and the lady on the phone had told me not to come right away, not that night. She said I wouldn’t be able to see my mom anyway, since they were setting up sanitary precautions so she didn't die faster. To give me a chance to visit her. So, I cancelled all my clients appointments at about six in the morning and got on the road. I got to the home at 8:02, and they told me I had to wash my hands and wear a mask before going in. After doing so, my manager called, furious. She screamed at me over the phone for a good few minutes before I could explain. She then apologized profusely and I kind of zoned out, focused on my mom, until a nurse came up to see me. I hung up after a hasty apology. The nurse looked at me with a mix of pity and sadness on her face, and I knew it was over. The call had taken too long, she was gone. The measures, the home, the meds, they were all supposed to help, but it was difficult to tell at the last stage how much time is left for a person. The nurse just said, “I'm sorry”. She walked away as I felt my whole world fall apart for the second time. The doctor's had been hopeful about the treatment, it was supposed to be better than the last one, but she had still died. I vaguely felt the tears start streaming down my cheeks, but it was like through a veil. She was gone, my mother, my rock, we might not have shared blood, but she was my life. She was my only family left, the only one who had stayed. Not only that, but she had always believed in me, had always been there for me. And now she was gone, and I hadn't been there in her last moments. I felt my knees go weak as I scrambled to find a chair and gave up halfway through as I decided the floor was a good substitute. Suddenly it felt like I was watching the scene from above. I was watching as the tears streamed until they dried up. I watched as a nurse walked over and put her hand on my shoulder, I didn't feel it, I was gone. As gone as my mom was. I had known she was going to die for months, but having it happen ended the world for me. Everything was over. 

Notes:

As previously mentioned, the point was not medical accuracy, I didn't even look anything up this time.

Chapter 26: Love or control?

Notes:

This one is bit out of the ordinary, but still generally horrible.

The look on her face made him wish he could take it back, but he was relieved it was out now. He's been holding it in for so long, close and cherished as an obsession. The chips would fall now, one by one or all at once, but at least he would finally be free to move forward. Finally, he would be able to be transparent about his love for her. He'd let it destroy his life, their relationship and his mental health. He'd obsessed over her every move, her very relationship, he's obsessed over her. Not only that, but he'd scared every other guy she had dated, she never knew. He anonymously called to get her fired and subsequently made sure she couldn’t get hired so she would have to rely on him. He'd centred everything he did around having control over her. All along, she had simply thought he was just an incredible friend that she was lucky to have. All along he had loved her, it had been eating him up inside since he had first laid eyes on her, sixteen years ago. Telling her he loved her was his first mistake, but offering to show her his office downstairs was the last nail in the coffin, it was insane. He'd never shown anyone what the room was like, he knew they'd think he was insane. He thought so too, of course, but he couldn't stop himself. The pictures of her pasted all over the walls, from every social media site she had, some privately shared with him. He knew she would think he was a creep, but he couldn't lie to her again when she asked why he didn't have a girlfriend. So he’d told her everything, the crush turned obsession, the room, the calls, the boyfriends. She just stared at him then stepped back, fear filling her eyes. He reached for her, and she flinched and kept backing up. When she reached the wall, she looked him in the eyes and, in a quiet voice, said, “You. You ruined my life.” She then left the house, and he had the firm conviction he would never see her again because she was right.

Chapter 27: Remembering

Summary:

Everytime I re-read my stories I realize there's a lot of kind if dark stuff, then I remember some of the other stuff on this website and I stop worrying.

When you have a photographic memory, you spend a lot of time flipping through the past like an album in your brain. There are images you are glad to keep with you always, and some you would give anything to forget. Personally, I'd like to forget the day I walked onto a crime scene. My memory was useful as an eyewitness, especially as I was the first to find the body. But my memory was also a curse. I would never be able to forget the body. On top of a photographic memory, according to my therapist, that memory would be one even a regular person would never forget. The scars, the blood, the pus, the mold, the knife and, worst of all, the eyes. They had been ripped out of the victim's skull, left to lay on the forest floor next to the body. I remember it like it was yesterday. Sometimes, I detail the wounds all over the body, the ones the coroner said marked the time and cause of death. One had always stood out to me, not the huge gaping hole left by the bloodied knife, but, instead, the small scratches round the face. Almost as if the person murderer was caressing the victim with the knife. I remember the dried blood all over the body, the visible organs were, in a way, burned into my retinas that day. I would give a lot to forget that sight, the sight of a body long dead, but not preserved. I’ve talked to different counselors, strange spiritual gurus and researched all over the internet. As far as I can tell, this image is stuck with me forever. Sometimes I wonder if I could recreate it, maybe paint it, some say that could help. I hope it can. This body will probably be the last thing I think of when I die. I would die comparing myself to them.

Notes:

Although this is kind of gory, photgraphic memory actually sounds like a really interesting thing to study.