The Sculptor - part 3 (444 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Fiction
Rating: 2 on 14 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by kaos-king (antius777) (View user info) at 2006-04-27 00:56:57 EDT
CHAPTER ONE - http://www.ubersite.com/m/87113
CHAPTER TWO - http://www.ubersite.com/m/87143
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It would seem all those yoga lessons were paying off.
I was sitting among the thickness of the magnolia bushes in the so-called "Lotus Position," watching the driveway that led up to the manor. I was quite comfortable and I had gently adjusted the the branches to give me the clearest view of the front of the District Attorney's home. I believe I had been sitting there for three hours when the Lexus finally pulled around.
I had been watching this particular subject for twice as long as my usual targets. First, he was a relatively powerful and well respected ADA with the city of Cleveland, therefore once I made my move on him, the authorities would then come after me with personal vengeance. Second, he had proved the most difficult to track and plan out due to his occupation. He was rarely alone for any extended period of time, at the office or at home.
The District Attorney stepped out of his expensive car and walked briskly to the front door. He did not wait for his wife, who seemed to be struggling to remove herself from the Lexus. He entered his home without a look back towards her. A few moments later, she followed him inside and closed the door.
Well, at least there weren't any children or pets to worry about.
Before my retreat to the bushes, I had broke into their home and rewired the alarm system. It would appear to the couple that it was functioning fine and undoubtedly they would set it again before bed. I had purposely waited in the bushes until they returned to see to it that my electrical engineering knowledge was fit. If I saw no unusual activity in the next few hours, I would be certain of it.
I could have no more mistakes. Not like my last subject. What a ridiculous situation that had turned out to be.
His name had been Dennis Wittaker, a bus driver and a deacon in his church. He was a devout Southern Baptist, married for seventeen years with three children. Dennis had been a large African-American, almost morbidly obese. He had worked hard and lived a good life, been a good husband and good father to his boys.
The customary two shots had not put him down.
No, Dennis Wittaker had been a fighter. He had grown up in a rough part of East Cleveland to a single mother and had played football in high school. Only a knee injury had kept him from going on to play in college. My subject had seen various forms of trouble every day driving a city bus in the downtown district and it had kept him on his toes. He may have let his middle grow quite wide over the last few years, but Dennis was not feeble. There was still muscle under all that flab, and even more so beneath his skull.
His wife had taken their sons to the zoo and he was about to lie down for a nap on the couch when I slipped in through the kitchen door. I fired twice into the back of his head, expecting him to fall onto the flower printed cushions. Instead, he rounded on me, swinging wildly.
His first punch missed entirely, but I was so amazed, I stumbled back. His second blow knocked the gun from my hand, the third connected to my temple. Perhaps he hesitated, slowed from the two bullets rattling about in his gray matter. Perhaps I gain my composure quick enough to strike back in time before things grew critical. Perhaps I was just lucky.
I dropped the switchblade from its concealed location in my sleeve, flipped it open and plunged it upward underneath Dennis's chin.
He staggered, his jaw locked open from the position of the blade, blood spraying everywhere. Quickly, I retrieved my gun and fired three shots all into his chest. From all the metal that had entered his body, Dennis was now quite dead. His body slumped against the couch, crimson everywhere.
I was very, very angry - at myself.
I replayed the events over in my head and considered what to do as the body before me drained out. I briefly thought about leaving, letting the authorities believe this had just been a random act of violence. But no, they would know from the bullets. Plus, Dennis Wittaker was my subject. He had been selected. He was part of the message.
I knew how religious a man Dennis had been, but I had planned on using his obesity as part of the message. As I stood there, I realized he would better serve me in a different way. As quickly as I could, I stripped off my pea coat, my fedora hat and wig, and opened my briefcase. I began my work.
As I sat there in the magnolia bushes waiting to make sure everything inside the District Attorney's home was perfect for my return, I contemplated Dennis Wittaker. I did not feel grief or guilt for the gentleman's demise. No more grief or guilt than would have for picking a flower. Does one not, let's be honest, in fact kill that flower once you pick it? But we humans savor the beauty of nature, regardless of how we treat it.
No, I just wondered if perhaps Mr. Wittaker's refusal to perish after two shots was some form of reply to me. And if so, what was I to make of it? Some, less enlightened, would have theorized that was a way of telling me my mission was unjust. That would, however, have been an incorrect assumption. Those people did not realize from where I was getting my directives.
The more I though about it, out there in the bushes, closely surrounded by the scent and feel of nature, I realized it. What I intended to do to Dennis's body WAS important, it was part of my message, if not the actual point. I had to be redirected in my actions on how to proceed and it was a last minute decision. My plans to make a remark about his obesity was not what was wanted. What was wanted, was a statement about his faith.
I eviscerated him, spilling out his innards on the floor. I sliced off his genitalia, then sealed the wound along with his anus shut with super glue, making him sexless. I placed the organs and severed sex in a pile in between his legs, as he was on his knees. Leaning the body back, I raised his arms out wide, accepting unto his lord. His arm bones were torn from the flesh, and using wire, I fashioned them into wings I then plunged into holes I drilled into his back. Into his side, I stabbed him again with the switchblade. I repeated the stabs into each of his palms. Into his cheeks, I carved the most glorious smile, into his forehead - the symbol.
Dennis Wittaker had been transformed into an angel.
And now, I was preparing to enter this home and speak about the concept of "Pride." Oh, I had thought about other thing, like justice or power. District Attorney George Kennington wielded both of those, truly. But I had watched him, studied him over these past few weeks. Such pride. Obviously, that was to be part of my message.
I would not be denied much longer. He was forced to listen. The directives, the symbols, the so-called "Sculpting" of the bodies... it was all perfect. He would be forced to answer soon.
And we would all be listening to what god had to say for himself.
User Reviews
Submitted by hot_pocket (user info) at 2006-04-29 23:49:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
From all the metal that had entered his body, Dennis was now quite dead.
Submitted by matnotharry (user info) at 2006-04-29 20:27:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Needs more attention
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-04-29 19:59:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by secret_of_nimh (user info) at 2006-04-27 22:44:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I hope some dialogue occurs between the Sculptor and his next subject, before they die.
Submitted by rockdocc (user info) at 2006-04-27 20:06:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this is really great writing.
but I'm sensing a "7" kind of thing going on.
maybe I'm wrong?
Submitted by algermetiphist (user info) at 2006-04-27 20:00:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I want to know why people aren't reading this. It's good, and it isn't like it is incredibly long or something.
Submitted by algermetiphist (user info) at 2006-04-27 15:01:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment.
Submitted by houseman (user info) at 2006-04-27 14:43:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This one is a lot cleaner. I, like the others, don't understand why more people aren't reading this.
Submitted by PrevertEnabler (user info) at 2006-04-27 11:49:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This series is awesome. I have an obsession with serial killers and gory details. I can't wait to see how this all turns out.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-27 11:48:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I had purposely waited in the bushes until they returned to see to it that my electrical engineering knowledge was fit.
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I had to read that sentence three times to understand it. But that might have been my problem.
This installment was great, I enjoyed it a lot. "The customary two shots did not put him down". That line was terrific, and there was some other killer (har har) writing in there too. I can't tell if the guy is merely insane or if he's actually going to achieve something, and I love that.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-04-27 10:51:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Hmmm.....
Perhaps this series is a little "too much."
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-04-27 08:09:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A good read.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-04-27 05:35:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
why isn't anyone reading this?
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-04-27 00:58:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I took into consideration what the reviews said on the first two chapters of this series.
I think I know what I was doing wrong, and hopefully this chapter is a bit better...