Soul Searching
There it is, sharp, shining and waiting to cut. I picked it up, trembling from excitement remembering the last time I used this blade. I almost missed it when Shelia came through the door and almost walked past before I grabbed her around the throat and threw her to the ground. As expected she opened her mouth wide to scream. Before she uttered a sound I jammed the tennis ball in her mouth as I punctured her breast with my four-inch blade, and not a sound came from her mouth, but the puncture sound of the blade penetrating flesh excites me. She squirmed in pain as I stuck it in again and again. This is why I liked a four-inch knife.
They last a long time before dying and I could completely satisfy myself. The four inches went in and out, in and out, faster, and faster and faster, until I couldn’t hold back anymore. As I ejaculated and slowly drew the sharp edge of my four-inch blade across her throat, the blood exploded from her jugular as I sliced clean through it. As she lay there jerking; the blood draining, I watched, wondering if somehow I could capture her soul the second her life force expired. I pulled the black hefty garbage bag from my coat pocket, opened it and held it above her to capture the spirit as it left the body. She gurgled and died. I quickly closed the bag thinking I must have her soul because where else could it have gone but straight into the bag? I felt the weight of it as I hefted the bag.
Now the exciting part, the killing is sexual, getting away is exciting. I had covered myself, shoes included in black hefty bags so the blood spurts wouldn’t stain my clothing or shoes. The bags made perfect camouflage for hiding in alleys waiting for my victims. I stepped away from her and removed the bags covering me and placed them all in one bag, being careful not to let the spirit escape from the bag being tightly held in my left hand.
As soon as I got home I rushed to the basement pulled an empty gallon jug from the worktable, put the bag holding the spirit in side and tightly sealed the top. Now I wondered, how am I going to know if I have it or not? I see the plastic moving and now I know I have trapped her soul.
I took the knife from my pocket; open the bloodstained blade, and I lick the moist blood from the blade. Then I put the knife in the dishwasher to get it cleaned up for next time.
I go to sleep thinking of ways to communicate with the soul I have captured. I decide the soul must be lonely all by itself trapped in that gallon jug. I decide to do some more soul searching tonight.
The end