Excerpts from: Give Up or Weak and Powerless: Two for the Price of One

by admin on December 13, 2010

Excerpts from: Give Up or Weak and Powerless

Two for the Price of One

The rain falls in sheets and sideways, making it virtually impossible for him to stay dry. He abandoned the umbrella two blocks ago, as it decided to release its structural integrity and give in to the wind’s will. His visibility is limited. At times, he can see no more than five feet in front of him. But that is more than enough to navigate through the streets; he has traveled them before. Pulling his head down to maintain visibility, he realizes that his destination is only a block away. He inadvertently steps into a massive puddle of water, causing the water to soak through his supposedly waterproof shoes, creating a squishing between his toes.
Glancing down at his watch, he made the trip by a minute sooner than he had originally calculated. This is a good thing, he thinks as he walks from the front gate of 114 Gateway Road and proceeds towards the back yard of the rambler house, heading to the back door. A quick jab through the bottom left pane of the door with his left gloved hand allows him access to the door handle within. All it takes is a flick of the wrist and viola!, open sesame! The alarm is of no concern to him. He had already ascertained the code from the houses’ residents by rummaging through their garbage two weeks prior to tonight’s event. How can people be so careless? One man’s garbage is another man’s opportunity. Maybe he should have been a philosopher, he ponders as he walks past the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedrooms waiting his arrival.
Jackpot. The master bedroom behind door number one. This will do nicely, he thinks to himself as he scans the bedroom, noticing the nick knacks, pictures and books throughout. What a nice size bed! A queen he believes. Nice and comfortable. Looking at his watch again, he realizes it’s time to get in position. Shedding his raincoat and neatly hanging it in the walk-in closet, he then removes the black terry cloth bag from his back pocket, enjoying the fabric against his palm, the weight in his hand. The all-black ensemble he wore under the raincoat was a good choice. Looking in the mirror in the darkness of the room, he is almost invisible, blending in with the shadows, his camouflage perfect.
They shouldn’t be long now. The show is only 2 1/2 hours long, and the weather will force them to come home right away instead of the usual chitchat that occurs in the mezzanine after a performance. Just as he empties the two stainless steel knives from their terrycloth sheath, the beep of the house alarm sounds as the front door opens downstairs. He can tell it’s a couple engaged in conversation about the nights’ exploits, oblivious to their surroundings. The stairs barely respond to the couple’s combined weight as they approach the top of the wooden flight and hang a left, bee-lining for the bedroom. Abruptly the conversation ends, only to be replaced by the sounds of passion: hands running over clothes, breathing intensifying becoming heavier, more rapid.
“I want you.” says the man.
“The bedroom.” she replies.
And with that, they cross his line of sight as he stiffens his body, ready to spring if they should happen to see him through the inch of space provided by the pushed back door. They don’t see him partly due to darkness, partly because their urgency to have one another has blinded them to anything else.They reach the bed but he cannot see them due to the angle of the door, only hear the mattress springs as they become pliable to accommadate the couples girth. Slowly, cautiously he peers his head around the edge of the door, seeing the woman on her knees pleasuring the man orally while he sits on the end of the bed moaning estatically, hands running through her hair.
It is time.
The door flies shut, slamming, causing the couple to stop and look in the direction of the noise in the darkness.
He. Has. Arrived.
Hurdling the woman in front of him in some bizarre Superman-like leap, arms stretched out fully, knife in each hand, the blades find their intended victim. The larger knife finds a home in the man’s throat, tearing his Adam’s Apple in two, coming out the other side of his neck. The other knife becomes buried to the hilt in the man’s chest, piercing his heart, killing him instantly. The woman, fully exposed, breasts heaving begins to scream while lying on her back on the carpeted floor, knocked backward by the attacker and her lover’s impact.
“I’ll be with you in a moment.” her lover’s muderer says between what appears to her to be a smile on his lips. His breathing has become haggard as he strains to remove the knife out of the dead man’s chest. The one that was lodged in the throat came out relatively easy, no struggle at all but this one is becoming a bitch to free.
“Fuck you!” the woman yells and tries to gather her wits about her to get on her feet and run but she ends up stumbling over her now dead lover’s pants, face – planting on the floor, catching her tongue bewtween her teeth. She emits an undescribeable noise from blood splattered lips, her tongue bleeding freely being punctured by her own teeth, unable to raise herself up fully, the pain hindering her efforts. On the second or third try, he is on her. He straddles the lower half of her back, a leg on each side of her, the larger of the two knives in both hands raised high above his head, the blade pointed down towards her. He drives the blade down. Contact is made through the back of her neck coming through the other side just under her chin, coming to a rest a whole inch into the wooden floor with a grisly thump. Her arms spasm from the shock and pain, flailing back and forth in an efoort to remove the blade embedded in her neck. She wants to scream from the trauma but instead finds she has no voice. She can only taste the iron/rust flavor of her own blood as her efforts only open her throat further.
He notices the woman’s efforts, dismounts from her and kneels down to her head so he can witness her last moments. Their eyes meet. Her eyes scream for help and at the same time horror as she finally meets her maker face to face. His eyes (could she be wrong?) are wide with amusement like a child who pulled off a butterflies wings. It is the last thing she sees as darkness overtakes her. She succumbs with a low breath coming out of the slit in her throat which her attacker hears now that his head is right next to hers. Rising off his knees, surveying the scene, he is suddenly filled with great pride.
“No, Sweetie. There will be no more fucking for you. Not anymore, not ever again.”
His watch shows that this excersise took only ten minutes from beginning to end, giving him eight minutes before the babysitter comes home with the children; another juicy detail ascertained from the now dead couple’s garbage. Pulling the large blade from the woman’s neck, wiping it on the bed covers, he places it back in the terrycloth bag that was secured in his back pocket. While at the bed, he grabs the smaller blade lying on the man’s chest and puts it in the small bag as well then slips the bag back into his right back pocket. He is on his way out the door when he remembers his raincoat hanging in the now deceased couple’s walk-in closet. Stepping over the women’s corpse, he reaches the closet door, opens it, then retieves his coat. On his way down the stairs, headlights break the darkness of the house but it’s of no concern to him.
He is already the ghost outside the back door, blended in with the shadows.


{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }

ME 12.16.10 at 8:24 pm

Ok basically this was very strange! Too detailed for me and way to graphic!!! UGGG did not enjoy at all. BUT you definitely can give Stephen King, John Carpenter and Clive Barker a run for thier money!!!!!

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Cam Sex 01.01.11 at 2:09 pm

I like to think that people have the same opinion as mine. However, I am timid to the idea that I could be wrong sometimes A happy new year!

admin 02.11.11 at 1:46 am

To everyone who has read this and think that it is much too graphic: Go screw.
This was an exercise for me to see where my mind may go if pushed to a dark place. Nothing more, nothing less. The fact that I have freaked out just about everyone who has read this piece lets me know that my effort was a success as this was the reaction I was seeking. See? It isn’t so complicated when you really think about it.
Furthermore, this is MY WEBSITE. I write what I want, when I want. Opinions are great, sure, but ultimately I’m putting up everything that crosses my twisted mind with our without the general public’s opinion. I will have some things that provoke deep thought, some shallow, some meaningless. Either way, its original and not tainted by outside influences. You have to appreciate that.
This isn’t the ‘user friendly’ site.
This is GregoryMcCant.com.

Nancy Thomas 03.31.11 at 10:13 am

Honestly, I thought it was child’s play. Let me edit it and I will show you true darkness. lol No, really…

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