burned her throat.
Corrosion. Rust.
A clanging. A far-off echo of metal against metal. Like the tolling of a buoy in a heavy fog.
Arden had no body. No appendages. She’d left them somewhere. Forgotten. Discarded. Unnecessary.
The voice. That was all that mattered. Everything was the voice.
“You become who you kill,” the voice said. “You can’t forget that. If you look into someone’s eyes as you kill him, you steal a little of his soul.”
Like bad radio reception, the voice faded in and out, forcing her to strain so she could hear every word. But even if she missed something, it would come back.
It always came back. Repeating the message.
A man’s voice.
“I kill people,” he said. “A rage builds inside me, a deep, seething hatred for humanity. When that happens, when I’m to the point where I’m about to explode, I don’t care about anything. I just want to kill. I need to kill, to take a life.”
His voice was low and deep.
She liked that.
“More than one life. Several. I want to hurt. I want to inflict pain. Not only physical pain. Mental pain. I’m not talking torture. I’m not one of those kinda guys. We got some of them in here, and that’s not what it’s all about. That’s not what I’m into.”
Arden strained to hear his next words.
“Annihilation. Wiping people out. Making a huge, fucking statement about the world, about people and life in general.”
“Most people are just a bunch of fucking worker bees, going about their business, not even thinking of the big picture. I want to make them see the big picture, you know. I want them to see that none of it matters. That it’s all shit. All fake. People need to know that. They need to wake up. They need to be shaken out of that false reality of self-importance they’ve created.”
True , Arden thought.
“It’s not a big deal. The world created rules, but those rules aren’t for me. They have nothing to do with me.”
His voice faded, as if he’d moved from the microphone, or turned his head to the side.
She strained to hear. She didn’t want to miss anything.
“Killing isn’t a big deal. Squashing ants. That’s all I’m doing. But everybody thinks it’s a big deal.” He laughed.
A nice laugh. Deep. Full of sarcasm.
“But it’s all a joke. That’s what I’m teaching. That it’s a joke. You’re all too serious. Life’s a joke. That’s what you gotta remember. That’s what you can’t ever forget.”
Arden had lost all sense of time and space. There was nothing but the present. Nothing but the floating and the darkness and the tolling of the bell.
And the voice.
Without the voice, existence would have been unbearable. She would have been trapped in the dark with nothing to cling to. The voice was what kept her going, kept her from losing her mind.
“I’m going to talk about the killings,” he said. “I’m going to describe them in detail.”
She’d already heard it several times. So many that she had it memorized, and could tell his stories along with him. At first, she just quietly mouthed the words.
I watched from a hill outside their house. It was night, and all the lights were on. They didn’t even close the curtains. I could see them moving around in there. My own private show.
Arden began to whisper the words aloud…
“They didn’t even put up a fight. They never do. They just stand there like a buncha sheep, you know. That always makes me madder. The way they whimper and cower and beg for mercy instead of taking action. Out of all the people I killed, not one ever tried to kill me. Some fight me. but nobody’s ever aggressive. Well, that’s not completely true. I had one grandpa who came running in with an ax. But the guy was so old and weak he could hardly lift it.”
He laughed again.
Arden laughed with him, causing the bell to clang.
“I wiped out the whole family. All of them. Grandpa. Mom and Pop. What ended up being a son and his wife, plus a coupla their brats. I
Corrosion. Rust.
A clanging. A far-off echo of metal against metal. Like the tolling of a buoy in a heavy fog.
Arden had no body. No appendages. She’d left them somewhere. Forgotten. Discarded. Unnecessary.
The voice. That was all that mattered. Everything was the voice.
“You become who you kill,” the voice said. “You can’t forget that. If you look into someone’s eyes as you kill him, you steal a little of his soul.”
Like bad radio reception, the voice faded in and out, forcing her to strain so she could hear every word. But even if she missed something, it would come back.
It always came back. Repeating the message.
A man’s voice.
“I kill people,” he said. “A rage builds inside me, a deep, seething hatred for humanity. When that happens, when I’m to the point where I’m about to explode, I don’t care about anything. I just want to kill. I need to kill, to take a life.”
His voice was low and deep.
She liked that.
“More than one life. Several. I want to hurt. I want to inflict pain. Not only physical pain. Mental pain. I’m not talking torture. I’m not one of those kinda guys. We got some of them in here, and that’s not what it’s all about. That’s not what I’m into.”
Arden strained to hear his next words.
“Annihilation. Wiping people out. Making a huge, fucking statement about the world, about people and life in general.”
“Most people are just a bunch of fucking worker bees, going about their business, not even thinking of the big picture. I want to make them see the big picture, you know. I want them to see that none of it matters. That it’s all shit. All fake. People need to know that. They need to wake up. They need to be shaken out of that false reality of self-importance they’ve created.”
True , Arden thought.
“It’s not a big deal. The world created rules, but those rules aren’t for me. They have nothing to do with me.”
His voice faded, as if he’d moved from the microphone, or turned his head to the side.
She strained to hear. She didn’t want to miss anything.
“Killing isn’t a big deal. Squashing ants. That’s all I’m doing. But everybody thinks it’s a big deal.” He laughed.
A nice laugh. Deep. Full of sarcasm.
“But it’s all a joke. That’s what I’m teaching. That it’s a joke. You’re all too serious. Life’s a joke. That’s what you gotta remember. That’s what you can’t ever forget.”
Arden had lost all sense of time and space. There was nothing but the present. Nothing but the floating and the darkness and the tolling of the bell.
And the voice.
Without the voice, existence would have been unbearable. She would have been trapped in the dark with nothing to cling to. The voice was what kept her going, kept her from losing her mind.
“I’m going to talk about the killings,” he said. “I’m going to describe them in detail.”
She’d already heard it several times. So many that she had it memorized, and could tell his stories along with him. At first, she just quietly mouthed the words.
I watched from a hill outside their house. It was night, and all the lights were on. They didn’t even close the curtains. I could see them moving around in there. My own private show.
Arden began to whisper the words aloud…
“They didn’t even put up a fight. They never do. They just stand there like a buncha sheep, you know. That always makes me madder. The way they whimper and cower and beg for mercy instead of taking action. Out of all the people I killed, not one ever tried to kill me. Some fight me. but nobody’s ever aggressive. Well, that’s not completely true. I had one grandpa who came running in with an ax. But the guy was so old and weak he could hardly lift it.”
He laughed again.
Arden laughed with him, causing the bell to clang.
“I wiped out the whole family. All of them. Grandpa. Mom and Pop. What ended up being a son and his wife, plus a coupla their brats. I
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