text: Revenge, oh sweet revenge. How bittersweet it feels to hurt the one who undermines you. The quench and thirst to rip the life out of another as they watch you do so. To see their life tear one by one, devouring his soul as everything he ever loved and cared for is taken away. To know that he can’t do anything but watch as it torments what made him human. To watch him struggle through those ropes, using any resources he can. Going from resisting to knowing he can’t do anything. He falls to the ground, empty like a living corpse, lifeless on the ground with eyes open so wide, it would look like a golf ball popping out. Not one tear is shed. For he is no longer human, but a collection of dolls waiting for the grave. Its been years since my guilty pleasure, my last victim that ravages this world, and im growing bored. It appears that im developing symptoms for this sport of mine, and im starting to get an itch for blood. There’s just no more people, no more men that corrupt this world. Are they hiding? Scared? Or maybe im getting too old. I can’t take it anymore, every person I see is like a cattle to be killed, a fox to be shot, a pest that swarms this oh so depressing world, but maybe im just blind. Maybe they are just hiding amongst the trash, scavenging for another victim. Am I falling for this play, this act, this attempt to fool an old man that devoted his life to destroy who seeks to sin upon this world? I probably am. Im watching, for they do not see me. Like the king of the jungle, I watch my prey, I learn their every move, their daily activities. Lurking in the dark as they continue with their daily life, not knowing of what is next. Clueless, stupid, unaware. In public, they hide under a sheet of innocence while and night they wash in denial. They know they are trash, but they object to that every ideal. They are not supreme, they are just cans left with drops of liquor, waiting for someone to throw them in. I will do the deed, I will throw them in, I will be the one to get my hands dirty to rid of all sins. To wait is just part of the fun, but the real enjoyment is to know they didn’t see it coming. So I wait and wait. All for that moment where the world stops and my time is ready. 8 she wakes up, 9 she walks to work, 4 she stops to the sound of the fizzling steps that surround her every being. It is only a matter of time, a matter of patience. Does she notice yet? Is she nervous? Or is she scared! Strike I say, and strike I do, oh I do. The enjoyment, the pleasure, the undeniable boost of dopamine I feel to rip apart her soul, her inner being. To watch her face as she realises what happens, but she knows, oh she knows she can’t do anything, anything at all. Her face rolls over, and her mouth opens just enough to utter a word. A word I haven’t thought of till now. “Why,” she says in a whispering manner. You could feel her life force fading from her as she mouths that word. What do you mean why? You are trash, aren’t you? I kick her, punch her, stab her endlessly as I say wake up. I needed her to respond to me, I needed to ask her why she said that, but it’s too late. For she is dead. I sat in that room in a still figure, staring at her lifeless body, and thought about her last words for the whole night. I knew then and there that I was the trash, I was the scum of society, the dirt that fleets around the sewers. 2 choices is all I had, and those 2 choices were my last. To go back into society and forget the past or to rid myself in disgust, but of course, I knew the decision. \Let me know what you guys think of this story! It was for school.