ticking on wall,
thinking of ways
to kill us all,
and honing minutes.
Every second counts
as it lays its plan,
to entrap your soul.
Just when you think
to come out of
to safe haven,
hands reach out
around your neck.
Tick tock -
Moments of time
Prologue to JADE - MURDER WITHOUT REMORSE
“I have no feeling when I kill! I feel no remorse! I am not like other people. Killing is only a means to an end for me. I have certain goals and killing brings me closer to my destiny. Can you explain to me why I do the things that I do? I’m afraid I will continue killing but I want to know why,” Jade related to me with a stone cold face.
Jade had only contempt for the emotions of others. Her sole gratification was based upon her need to delude, control and exploit. However, she was so narcissistic that she wanted to feed upon my deeper emotions since she knew that I cared about her well-being. She really did not care if she had the understanding or company of others but I realized that she could not survive a solitary existence. Thus; she used me as a sounding board. I understood that her emotional persona could not subsist without collateral damage. I knew that I could not let myself become one of her casualties because she was quite capable of victimizing, persecuting and tormenting me as well as others.
I am Dr. Stanley Cohen and I am a psychiatrist working on a research project to further my own understanding of this psychopathic young lady and others like her. Because of medical ethics, I can never share this information with legal authorities so have no input in establishing whether she will, in fact, kill again. I want to understand why she feels driven to act out her desires in such a murderous way. She has admitted that she is unable to change and is completely lacking in empathy. The young lady in question is self-referred to me and is a fascinating case study. The crimes that she has committed are brutal, heinous and without any reason or merit. Her exquisite exterior belies that which is beneath the surface.
Although I fight my own feelings when dealing with Jade, I must admit that, sometimes, I feel a vicarious thrill when she tries to justify her actions. I do my best to fight my reactions but despite these efforts, occasionally find myself unsuccessful. I wonder if this is why some psychiatrists go into this field in the first place. I want to help my clients but have to admit that after years of dealing with psychiatric patients, I have developed almost an understanding of their behaviors. And, if truth were to be told, I almost feel a deep affection for this particular patient, Jade, although I would never admit to this response when I counsel her. I strive to remain objective at all times but have to admit that I am imperfect at times. I can’t realize it as I write this, but my feelings for this client will ultimately lead to a disastrous ending which I will be unable to prevent no matter what actions I take. The story that I am about to tell will snowball completely out of control and will culminate in a catastrophic conclusion for which I will be unable to suppress the consequences.
I have changed the names, places and most of the locations of these murders committed by Jade in order to preserve the sanctity of my profession. I wish I could be of help to this disturbed young woman but I honestly don’t think I can. Here is her story as related to me and as I understand it.
Neven Sievers felt his body growing colder as his life’s blood poured onto the deck plating and pooled around him.
The pain still registered, but it was more of an afterthought, faint and in the background. He gazed upward as an indistinct shadow fell across his vision and reached towards him. Fear gripped him and held him immobile as surely as if the gravity had been increased tenfold.
His sight, which had been growing dim and blurry, suddenly came into sharp focus. He felt the telltale tickle of data flowing through his simjack and realized his killer had linked them together with a neurolink cable. He gazed at the face of Death and saw only featureless darkness, then his own face within it as Death gazed back. Though he could not see it, he felt Death’s cruel smile. The black hatred. The rush of elation and excitement.
A blade projected from Death’s left wrist. Neven watched in resigned horror as the blade approached his neck, then through Death’s eyes as the blade slowly slid across his throat. His eyes widened in renewed pain as the blade bit deep and opened his trachea in a gaping smile.
Neven’s eyes closed, but continued watching himself die as Death stood watch over him and savored the moment of transit from this life to whatever follows. The world descended into darkness.
The neural feed stopped and Neven opened his eyes. He felt hot and was breathing heavily. Neven had experienced his share of Presense and recognized that he was on the edge of an induced orgasm. In frustration and disgust, Neven disconnected the neurolink cable from the simjack at the base of his skull.
“Nothing. Same as the others. Never see the face. Just a shadow and the wrist blade.”
Neven remained reclined in the S.I.M. chair as he waited for his own senses to reassert themselves. His vision came back almost instantly, but his other senses often took slightly longer. Experience had taught him it was better to wait than to fall on his face. He looked at the corpse of the woman still hooked up to the lab’s second S.I.M. chair beside him.
The pleasure of killing her felt barely stronger than his hate for her. That was his only real clue to the identity of the killer, and it was next to nothing. This made victim number six and he was no closer than he was after the first.
“I need a chip copy of the Presense data. Filter out the emotion information. Maybe I’ll notice something when I compare it against the others.”
And if I don’t, maybe I’ll start killing people until the other killings stop.
Neven shook his head to clear the aberrant thoughts from his mind. He got out of the chair and took the chip from the arm receptacle before making his way towards the door and back out into the station.
The holographic technician smiled as it faded to an indistinct shadow, then the face itself obscured to black and winked out.
Our Super Delicious Christmas Crambo
<font color="red">The Uncles are red-faced and merry, as Grandma is sipping the sherry</font>
<font color="green">The hour's but quarter to seven, and biscuits are starting to leaven</font>
<font color="red">In the tree hangs a cat, quite canny, with tinsel streams from his fanny!
<font color="green">Held in my room I resist, for around my family I musn't exist</font>
<font color="red">Little John tugs the tree to get kitty, sending tinsel en l'air ('tis quite pretty)</font>
<font color="green">And the Christmas tree falls to the ground, sending little sparks all around</font>
<font color="red">Old Aunt Mary with her bad knee, one step, two, she trips over the tree</font>
<font color="green">And sweet Cousin Mini kissed big burly Moe, there they stand under the mistletoe...</font>
<font color="red">Hark, jolly big 'Ma sings merrily, for fallen Aunt & tree isn't sad tragedy!</font>
<font color="green">But there was a box squashed by the tree: a delicate present unfortunately...</font>
<font color="red">The clay owl statue lost its beak; alas, it was an antique.</font>
<font color="green">Pa walks past the tree and grabs a box from the coffee table which holds the rare, precious, unbreakable, identical, triplet-owl-statue from the nearby antique store.</font>
<font color="red">But alas, as good ol'Dad turns around, he falls over Aunt Mary tinsel tangled on the ground.</font>
<font color="green">A gasp escaped from everyone there; on the floor with the owl, Pa's toupee very near!</font>
<font color="red">Till Cousin Brun-Hilda shrieked, "a Rat!" while chucking her heirloom red cloche-hat</font>
<font color="green">And though it was toupee not rat, she struck it quite hard with a bat, and while we looked on, encouraged by song, the owl was purloined by the cat.
<font color="red">Woof! Peewee the dog jumped off the sofa, sniffed and snatched the toupee belongs to ol' Pa</font>
<font color="green">Oh No cried Dad and covered his head, the rest of his face had turned quite red.</font>
<font color="red">Peewee the dog ran out in a flash, burying the toupee with the rest of his stash.</font>
<font color="green">Falling snow on frosty lands, Reflected from the earth below</font>
<font color="red">Arose the fullness of helping hands, bringing joy from where ever they go.</font>
<font color="green">Through freezing ice and burning sand, hearts are bright and all algow.</font>
<font color="red">Young singer's ring Jingle Bells gladly, while chanting out loudly...
<font color="green">Carolers arrive, such a joyous sound, hark what have we here, a man digging up the ground.</font>
<font color="red">In a large hat, Dad mutters and digs, where has that f***ing dog put my wig?</font>
<font color="green">This man needs help, the ground's frozen hard, come on carolers, let's dig up the yard!</font>
<font color="red">The carolers scramble all over the snow, and then one yells "found it!" as she pulls from below...</font>
<font color="green">The carolers clapped and cheered. Then, look! jolly big 'Ma brought them some Christmas treats</font>
<font color="red">Peewee the dog came out of his hiding place behind the wall sheepishly as the carolers began to sing Deck the Halls gracefully</font>
<font color="green">Without noticing the toupe looked worse for wear. Dad plopped it back on his head and presto he had hair.</font>
<font color="red">The yard full of holes, hands like ice, come inside, said Dad, it's warm and nice.</font>
<font color="green">The room filled up with much chat and good cheer, the tree stood askew, the floor had been cleared.</font>
<font color="red">Ahh... well-now, we're ready then perchance, for music and a good-old square-dance?</font>
<font color="green">Square dance sweaty, some romantic winks, food and gifts and loads of drinks.</font>
<font color="red">Everyone danced well into the night, Dad did some breakdancing and gave gran a fright.</font>
<font color="green">After a headspin he was bald once again, but moved into a freeze with a big fat grin.</font>
<font color="red">Then Ma called him into the kitchen, whilst music still made its merry din.</font>
<font color="green">The Uncles on cue began to tease, what should they tell Santa, if you please...?</font>
<font color="red">The kids didn't know what to believe— Bells rang out! and they had to go see.</font>
<font color="green">Outside a figure (much like Pa's), but outfitted in red! It MUST be Santa Claus!!</font>
She was still...
A body that had once been so full of life.
There was a grumbling
From the ground,
But mostly there was only the silent
Quietude of death.
She was in the woods, and the more she
The more the feral woods creatures
Began to emerge, and look upon her...
Firstly, a fox, that with bowed head,
Explored the loose chain, and
Locket that still clung to her
...Then a parade of ants
Walked up and down her waist,
Finally ending the tour at a spot
On her face.
She was still...
A body that had once been so full of life.
Charlene had always been a fan
Of the unexplored areas
In her town...
...Her favorite spots
Were in the shadows,
Under the underpass, and
Deep in the woods
Where she couldn't hear
Sound of cars...
Her boyfriend had been driven
He had a jealous heart...
...He was stepping out with another
But he felt Charlene
Should stay faithful to him...
...He had an inkling were she'd been
And he was sure
When Charlene was being
Murdered by her
The woods creatures watched in silent
From the refuge
Of their respective bushes, and
What was going on, they wondered?...
...Soon they would
Investigate her fate
In the wake of her demise.
Seduction Challenge Winner
I would like to thank all of you that entered my seduction challenge! This was (a-hem) hard for me to narrow this down. As I was torn from entries as I found them hot and rather well crafted! So without further adieu...
The Winner: Voyeur by Sandflea68
My Pet by Chanellejoy
Delicate Hum by Fantastical
Again thank you all for entering the challenge, and I look forward to the next in a few weeks.
I consider myself a poet over any other type of writer. Thus, my main thing is poetry. Lately, I haven't written that many poems because I was experimenting with other types of writing, but now I think I'm straying too far away from poetry. Relax the stories I have done will be continued.(Prose Universe, In Search of Truth, and Prince of Africa) I'm just going back to my roots. I'm going to experiment with different genres and/or styles of (for lack of better word) of poetry. (Ex. include The Devil's Whisper, Road Block, Mailman, and Internal War) Anyway, the main point is I'm getting back to my roots.
My shadows slam the doors of sanity and barricade the lucidity of soaked nightmares.
I shrink and hide myself, brittle and flimsy behind my naked eyes that can no longer see
the obscurity of my masquerades, hiding my true self in assumed identity. I lurk inside a dark soul that bares nothing but broken dreams and foundation of shrouds.
I blanket my sinister past to seek redemption but ambiguity veils my fractured heart
held together by duct tape of animosity. I rip the binding off, discovering paralyzing panic, a vulnerability cloaked in bogus beards, listening to roar of whispers and silent screams.
I burrow under my skin and wash off my camouflage, stop suppressing walls of deceit and
breathless lies and blot out the darkness to reveal the dawning light, drawing it desperately into my bankrupt core. But I weep and rend my hair as I realize I am too late!