Lighting strikes

LIGHTNING STRIKES

You've been this person your whole life. The same person that makes you
want to put your fist through the mirror as you stare at your
reflection?if that's all it is. But that's not all it is, is it? It's
your own pathetic existence laughing at you, mocking your misery and
suffering. You see, I'm not alone. If I was then you wouldn't have read
this far. You're interested, you're intrigued because you want to know
my story.
Because you're just like me.
Let's face facts; everybody hurts, physically, mentally, emotionally.
It's a way of life. Without this?'conditioning' perhaps we'd all have
clone-like personalities. Sure, we might look different, but it's the
events in our lives that happen to us, to make us what we are.
But there's some of us that hurt more, even if the penalties they
suffer aren't so high. It can be through jealousy, guilt, denial. And
those people (including myself) are one thing, and one thing
alone.
Murderers.
At least that's what society depicts us as. I'd like to think of
myself, more of a waste disposal unit. I clear the scum off the
streets. And although that makes me sound like I'm calling myself a
superhero, (which in my opinion is not far from the truth) I did not
mean it so. Of course what I'm doing is bad, evil, demonic. But who
cares? Who's going to find out? Who's going to miss one more prostitute
off the streets? Filthy streets, filthy girls, it all makes
sense.

It was late. The little hussy looked worse than I felt. It had just
been another average day at the office, and I needed a hit. With my fat
wife not putting out anymore, I had to go elsewhere. Of course I'd
tried to find a nice clean girl at the office first. One of the young
temps, they wouldn't have had half as many guys as the real women. That
made them slightly pure, but only slightly.
I'd had no luck. No slaps thank my lucky stars, but just cold blank
stares. They knew I was married, they knew I was fat, and balding. They
knew I just wanted them for sex. They were right. This is what let me
to the corner of Lerch Street. They were all there. You know the type,
redheads, fishnet stockings up to their crack, leather boots, latex,
the works. If women could be thought of drinks, these women were
tequila. Disgusting and nasty.
It hasn't taken much from my wallet to fare the pretty princess into
my cab. The driver didn't turn round, he knew this wasn't his business,
and he knew he'd end up with a knife at his throat if he made it his
own. He was foreign, and nervous. His English struggled as he drove.
But I didn't respond to his petty small-talk. I gave him a fistful of
dollars and led the whore up to my house. My wife had gone on a tidy
trip to mothers funeral, taking the little brats with her. Why did I
ever have kids? They're useless.
I lead her up to the bedroom by her wrists, making sure she knew who
was in charge. "Don't," she said, stopping halfway up the stairs as I
squeezed tighter. "I won't be hurt. Not by you or anyone else."
"I'm sorry." I let go. It was better to guide her into a false sense
of security, letting my pride take a tumble for a few minutes. It was
what happened in the end that counted, not the present.
I threw her onto the bed without warning and gripped her wrists to the
bed, digging in my fingernails.
"Not so rough."
I just laughed. Who the fuck did she think she was?

A few minutes later I'd gotten over my animal urges, and her blood had
already soaked the sheets. I'd dulled her screams with my vice-grip on
her throat, choking the life out of her.

And then it happened. The window smashed, and the gales sucked me out
onto the rooftops, baring me naked for the black skies above. A cloudy
face shadowed my body, eyes vicious with shame.
"Who are you?" I screamed. "What do you want with me?"
"I am God. And it is time for your sins to be weighed. You have done
some terrible things, this shall be tolerated no longer. There is no
justice in your murders, and no room in heaven nor earth for the likes
of you."
I began from a crouch, slowly extending to a stand. The winds still
blared around me, but I feared them no longer. And that's when the
lighting struck. "I am who I am, almighty god. And do you know what?
I'm proud of who I am. And I'm glad the girls suffered! You might be
all powerful, but we both know you can never claim their lives back! In
the end MY LORD, I am the victor!"
"That is not the case," God simply smiled. "Your dark fate awaits you,
murderer."
"And what is that? Oblivion? Hell?"
"Far worse than that, murderer. I am going to cast ultimate darkness
upon your soul. I am going to leave you exactly as you are, in a tiny
room, for the rest of time."

And so my story carries on, crouched in the corner of a dark damp
room, surrounded by only memories of my dark past and who I am. I
thought I could get away with being who I was, I thought death would
end my seeking to become a better person. But now I can only haunt
myself, until I slowly go mad. Losing all grip on reality.
I am who I am.