The Sculptor - part 2 (505 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Fiction
Rating: 1.84 on 13 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by kaos-king (antius777) (View user info) at 2006-04-25 11:44:27 EDT
The Sculptor - Part 1... http://www.ubersite.com/m/87113
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I tilted my head to the right, blinked again, and re-examined the framed poster on the wall.
It was a picture of a kitten posed precariously on a garden fence with the phrase "Hang In There, Baby," in a script font underneath.
I didn't think people actually had this particular item in their homes. I assumed it was some form of urban legend, satirical in nature. I thought about what type of person it took to not only own such a decorative piece, but indeed, hang such a thing above her own bed. Such trite imagery positioned above a whimsical pun that was suppose to instill hope but...
The woman, "Janice," shifted in her sleep.
Shaking my head out of its retreat, I aimed the gun at the top of her skull and fired twice.
THWUMP. pause. THWUMP.
And Janice was quite dead.
Once before I had been caught it in my own mind, swept away by my own internal social commentary. That time it had been the DVD collection. My selection was a single, middle-aged, heterosexual man. He had obtained a large collection of movie that were of the "Romantic Comedy" type. This development intrigued me, and I had begun looking more carefully at the rest of his belongings. The man, who had asleep on the couch, had suddenly rolled over and began to open his eyes. I was in such a state of dismay at my carelessness, I had fired three shots into his head.
It had been my third time out.
I unscrewed the silencer and put it along with the gun back into its build-in concealed holster under my jacket. I removed the jacket and reached towards my back, where a thin back pack was strapped. I took it off and pulled out the bleached white smock, my plastic gloves and the 0.5 mil synthetic drop cloth.
I pulled on the gloves, then put on the smock. It covered me from neck to knees, all the way down to my wrists. I took off my fedora hat, then delicately peeled away the brown wig from my smooth bald head. There would be no skin tags from a fallen hair to trace me here. I set both the hat and the wig on top of Janice's dresser.
As I rolled her body to one side to lay the drop cloth underneath, I thought about what the most recent article in the Cleveland Plain Dealer Newspaper had said about me. They had interviewed some greatly esteemed clinical pathologist who had specialized in the criminal mind. The doctor had made all sorts of outlandish claims about my social life, my sexuality and my childhood. When it was pointed out to the expert that the so-called "BTK" had not exhibited any of these traits, the doctor had brushed all of that off.
"The Sculptor is obviously a sociopath, living outside the confines of a normal, structured environment. That he hasn't been caught yet is only by dumb luck. Some one of his caliber of psychopathy is barely able to understand the reality around himself, let alone plan out meticulously detailed master crimes."
I had considered sending the good doctor a certain "souvenir," something akin to the memory of Albert Fish, but I decided against it. It all seemed a bit crass.
The drop cloth was positioned fully under the body now and I stopped to better examine Janice in this state. I considered my next move as I peered down at her. The blood from her head was still trickling out and pooling around her upper torso. I repositioned the pillow so that the blood wouldn't start to spill out towards me.
Hmmm.... perhaps the garden shears first.
I opened my briefcase and retrieved the tool. As I was clipping off Janice's fingers, one by one, I thought back to my childhood. It was nothing like it had been portrayed in the newspaper. I had grown up middle-upper class, the eldest of three children. My father had been a college professor, who taught history at a well respected university. My mother had been a bank manager. They had been married for thirty-two years, until prostate cancer had taken my father's life. My mother lives still. I had never been abused - Physically, verbally, or sexually. Nor had I been neglected. My parents had been wonderful people.
I placed the fingers in a tiny row in between the woman's breasts to hold them there. I unsnapped my bone saw from my briefcase and went to work on the wrists.
I was quite close with my little sister, her only being two years younger than me. We still are, in fact. My little brother was somewhat a surprise to all of us at ten years my junior. I adored the little rascal, but I must admit, I was never quite sure what to do with someone so much younger than me. Now that he's just graduated from college, I feel a great deal closer to him.
I bring out my scalpel and begin to slice away at Janice's genital region. It falls away in pieces until there's not much left. I fit the discarded remains into her mouth.
I never tortured animals, was overly bullied, or was any kind of social outcast. We had two pet cats, and a dog that I loved dearly until it was hit by a car. In high school, I was the star of the school swim team and my girlfriend was Home Coming Queen. I drove my mother's old car, but it was quite a nice vehicle. I got very good grades and went to a very prestigious college. I had an amazing time there and excelled academically as well.
Using the super glue, a finger gets inserted into each ear. A finger gets glued over each eye. A finger up each nostril. Two fingers crossing the mouth. I look at the thumbs with consideration. I'm not entirely sure what to do with them. I sit them at the end of the bed, content in the knowledge that something will come to me.
My sex life has been pretty normal as far as I know. I'm heterosexual, with the average amount of partners for a man my age. I masturbate every few days to the usual thoughts of beautiful women. I have never married because I just haven't found the right girl yet, I suppose. Besides, I'm only thirty-three.
The fingerless severed hands go palms down, glued against the genitals and the anus. I slice off the breasts completely with my scalpel. I attach them to the bottom of the feet, the nipples pointing out.
I shrug and cover the nipples with the thumbs. Waste not, want not...
Leaning over, I carve the ancient symbol into the apex of the rib cage, right onto the flesh of the sternum. I nod once with approval. My work here is complete.
As I gather up my supplies to wash in the bathroom sink, I think about my mission. This was the seventh soul I had sent to the afterlife. This was the seventh symbol I had cast towards the Divine. This was the seventh part in my message to god.
I had never really gone to church growing up. My father was Agnostic and my mother was a non-practicing Protestant. Religion was not an issue in my family.
It's still not an issue with me, either...
User Reviews
Submitted by hot_pocket (user info) at 2006-04-29 23:43:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
im moving on to part three
Submitted by matnotharry (user info) at 2006-04-29 20:23:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
chilling
Submitted by secret_of_nimh (user info) at 2006-04-27 22:37:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-27 11:42:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
THWUMP. pause. THWUMP.
And Janice was quite dead.
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'Sound effects' are really out of place in a story like this, I think. Also the second line there is something that's going on throughout...it's a like you're going for this precise, 'just-so' narrator's voice but it's not quite coming off. Lost your way slightly from the first one.
Well, off to read the third.
Submitted by algermetiphist (user info) at 2006-04-26 11:24:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like it. It's morbid in a very entertaining and entrancing way...
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2006-04-25 23:41:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Strangely erotic.
What?
Submitted by turkishblend (user info) at 2006-04-25 19:05:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-04-25 13:11:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
interesting.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-04-25 12:46:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by houseman (user info) at 2006-04-25 12:32:01 (#)
Ranking: 2
I am really surprised at the number of grammatical errors in both chapters 1 and 2. It isn't like you at all?
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same.
Submitted by houseman (user info) at 2006-04-25 12:32:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You scare me.
I am really surprised at the number of grammatical errors in both chapters 1 and 2. It isn't like you at all?
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-04-25 12:19:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2006-04-25 12:17:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
twisted
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-04-25 11:45:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
http://www.ubersite.com/m/87113#1949598