Wednesday, April 07, 2010

His Last Day

Just because it's beautiful out today doesn't mean today's story need to be sunny and happy and warm. Since nothing chills a person more than a good bit of horror, I'm bringing you just that on this gorgeous spring day. It comes from Brandon Markham, a writer from Los Angeles and, more recently, Arizona. He writes horror and fantasy. Enjoy his short story, His Last Day, and then go enjoy the day outside!
 
His Last Day
By Brandon Markham

Today’s job was Robert Milton Jr., a sixty-five year old pedophile charged with the murder and rape of a two year old. Ben always loved putting these guys to sleep. The executioner strode down the corridor, the very air permeated with rot and death. Over a hundred of these people Ben condemned, and a hundred more would come before he would die. The thirty year old loved his job. It gave him a reason to kill.

Today was the last day however, He served his time in County, but he would commit another crime to go back. He pushed these thoughts back, pondering how he should kill this person. Should he do it slowly with nail clippers like last time? Nah, that was slow. Ben always loved slow things and thought. It gave him time, and every second he savored it.  

Ah…he thought, a wicked smile crept on his pale face. With a dirty and blood soaked hand, he reached in his pocket of his overalls, and produces a mask. It was a medieval thing that mask, one that could always be seen in comics and cartoons. It was black and covered the head; two holes were made to see through the veil. It was also pointed. Yes…the traditional executioners’ mask.    

The door in front of him was made of iron. The other side would soon be in blood. He opened it, and an ancient sound crept out as the door was pushed further and further, and he was their.

The man, Robert Milton that is, was blindfolded and naked. He was fat and disgusting, his hair almost seemed like second skin. A yellow puddle was beneath the molded wooden chair he was strapped to. The room was comforting however. All the tools he needed were right on that table. Brass knuckles, knives, screwdrivers, chainsaws…Ben laughed, who uses chainsaws anymore?

He shut the door, Robert turning his head this way and that.

“Who’s there?” He screamed in fear. “Where am I?”

“You’re in County, Robert, you’re in County.” Ben replied

“L-l-l-look…I did nothing wrong! Nothing you hear? Please, just-“

“You’re not getting out” Ben interrupted. He wanted to make this point clear, and it worked. Robert thrashed…or attempted to. His screams were heard throughout, something Ben hated. Screams were music to others, but to him…they were just annoying. He walked over with his butcher knife slowly. Ben enjoyably slashed at Robert’s mouth. In return’ the naked man screamed in gurgling horror, blood filling his mouth, but it did not choke him.

“Please…I’m begging you…please…”Robert pleaded

“How’d she feel? Young and untouched…like a little girl huh? You had ultimate control over her. She feel good right? You feel good knowing that you killed her?”
The blind fold moved upwards, Robert’s eyes has widened

“Uh-what are you talking about?” Robert exclaimed. “I did no such thing!” Ben laughed. Liars get extra treatment.

“Well then, let’s get something clear: you raped her Robert. You killed her as well. Your own daughter”

“What the fuck are you-gah!” The knife penetrated Robert’s knee and he screamed a scream that that sounded like a sharp squall. The nest penetration went to his ear, but not all the way. Ben was not finished.

“I hate screams…reminds me to much of how I screamed when I was just a runt. Daddy shoulda never came at me like he did. So bear with me’ alright?” Ben walked over towards the stone table and grabbed a pair of p.v.c. cutters. They were like pliers, but a short thin blade replaced the locking part, leaving only the handles. Immediately the cold from the metal was gone. Ben walked back and removed the blindfold, ripping it. He grabbed Robert’s penis and placed it between blade and handle.

“Don’t scream alright?”

Ben squeezed the cutters once; the blade did not touch the penis…yet. Another squeeze cut into the meat, a Robert disobeyed. The next squeeze ended it, Robert’s manhood taken from him.

“Now then…how about those eyes? Jesus always said to cut out your eyes if did adultery. Oh yeah…didn’t he say something about hands?”

The scream rose sharply, and lasted into the night.

* * * * *

The Boss was standing outside the door with a gun. Ben was surprised when he saw this. His joy was stolen. Six hours of nothing but skin peeling, bone pulling, hair pulling, eye plucking, and finally decapitation through his torso was all stolen with that gun. The Boss shot, was Ben faltered.

“What the…what the…hell…” Ben trailed as the puddle of blood was being formed.  The Boss, with his ebony face and graying hair answered.

“You know not to kill anyone innocent Ben, so I should be the one asking that question.”

“Uh-what are you talking about?” Robert exclaimed in memory. “I did no such thing!”

Shit…Ben thought. Before he drifted of to his death, there was Robert. His final moments were enjoyable, though he did tell the truth. In fact, Ben knew that Robert did not commit such a crime. Things were so slow around County, even for Robert. He laughed in the face of death in the end. Also, for the fun of it, he let out a weak scream.

1 comment:

  1. Ben reminded me of DEXTER. But 10 times worse. LOL. Great short story.

    ReplyDelete