Another juicy Jacob piece.

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It’s sad, but a great gift to me, that the well of depraved sick bastards never seems to dry up. Especially now, when I really need to use my blades.
My feet ache to take me through the moist mulch of the forest.
My hands are tingling, wanting to bury another grave.
Angel shut the door in my face, tears in her eyes. But I’ve kept true to my word, I haven’t left her.
I follow her as she goes to work.
I watch her as she tries to have a social life with her waste of space friends.
I dream of her as she undresses at night.
She just doesn’t know it. Not yet, she isn’t ready. But she will be. I can tell she has become more vigilante, looking out her windows more often. Checking her phone on a routine schedule. She’ll never see me though, not until I want to be seen.
Just like with Vincent Harbringer here. I scroll through the information I’ve found on him. Blinking to focus my eyes in the pitch black.
Age, fifty eight.
Seven counts of molestation on under aged girls. Registered sex offender. Three counts of breaking his conditions.
The next victim. My next victim.
I spend the next few hours switching between the research on Vinny and the rest trying to keep my fingers from clicking the live feed of Angel’s house.
Death first.
Pleasure later.
It’s going to be a wonderful day.

  • Turner
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A Continuation of a short

prompts, shortstory, writing

So, I’m not sure if you guys remember but a while back I posted something I wrote, about a young man named Jacob who craved blood. Yeah, that messed up guy. Anyways…as much as that was just a short, something I was prompted for…I decided to write another installment in his story. So here it is. Warning…this one is a little dark. Okay, a lot. Enjoy!

It had been mere days since I’d last seen her,my chest ached to be near her.
But not more then it ached for blood.
Blood that I was currently getting from the man underneath my blade.
“Please…have mercy?” A gurgled cry came out of his throat. I laughed at him. Mercy? He wanted mercy? I brought my bowie knife up again and brought it down, right into the fleshy material of his thigh. Rapists didn’t deserve mercy. I was there to extract justice. For all those little girls who didn’t stand a chance, who’s innocence was stolen. Just like her. I grit my teeth at the memory of her beautiful features, twisted by her nightmares, of him stalking her in her dreams.
“Ahhhhhh!” A desperate scream came from him. Now, if I was in the city I would be have been worried about someone hearing him. But we weren’t in the city, we were deep in the woods, the smell of wet moss surrounding us. The darkness hiding us, not even the light from the moon could penetrate the canopy above us.
I pushed the black hood I had concealing my face off my head, it fell against my shoulders. I could feel the blood on my hand transferring to my skin. I relished in the feeling.
“Tell me, Mr. Harris…was it worth taking those little girls? Breaking them? Raping their little bodies?” I spit. I don’t take my eyes off his, which were glossy with crocodile tears.
“I..I didn..”
“DO NOT LIE TO ME, Mr. Harris.”
“I…I’m sick! The doctors…they say I’m sick!” Blood rushed from his lips as my knife once again struck something vital.
I chuckled. “That’s right. You’re sick. And sick perverts aren’t welcome here.”
And with that…I took the sick bastards life. A feeling inside of me swells…pride. I wish she could see what I had done for her.

-Turner