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|A Killing Rain (standard:horror, 36181 words)|
|Author: Reid Laurence||Added: Dec 07 2005||Views/Reads: 2401/1883||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Raymond Mort is a killer ó make no mistake ó but the lives he takes donít fulfill a murderers bloodlust quite as much as they work to keep him happy and occupied in the strange, make-believe world heís self-manufactured out of sheer madness. In doing so,|
It was cold outside, and rain was still falling. It rained for days and it seemed that it would never end. The city's storm sewers were filled to capacity and flood waters threatened to back up and overflow out into the streets, but still, relentless, the rain continued to fall. Like the sound of large pebbles falling on rooftops, it fell and meandered its way along its natural gravitational path, unhindered and flowing from rooftops to gutter systems to down spouts, and out into the streets, not with a fury or rage but with a constant unending urgency. An urgency that only the natural forces of nature could explain, but would not. Meteorologists could find no exact explanation, but only suspected that modern industrial pollutants were to blame and man, not nature, was the cause. Still, the reason or reasons for the copious downfall was the furthest thought from Raymond Mort's mind, as he stood as still as a hard granite statue in the night, concealed by a cloak of darkness in a niche of an alley wall, patiently waiting. From his position, as he leaned against the cold wet wall, he could see the reflection of the liquor store's sign from across the street in the puddle of water in front of him. The sign read; Sam's Liquor Store, and it flashed on and off, nearly synchronized to the beat of the falling rain. As Raymond listened, he could hear the quiet footsteps of a passing stranger getting closer. The sound of the person's hard leather shoe soles striking the concrete pavement made a distinct noise and he could tell even without looking that the stranger was male. Suddenly, to Raymond's surprise, the sound of the rhythmic pattern of steps vanished, and wondering why or how, he peered out from the safety of his concealment to look down the street. Spotting the stranger, he saw the warm glow of a tiny fire ignite from a match the man struck, as he stood motionless, guarding a cigarette with his hand from the cool falling rain. Taking a deep drag on the cigarette, the unknown pedestrian adjusted his coat, pulled the collar up around the exposed skin of his neck and tossed the now dead match to the ground, once more, taking up the pace of his stride. Now, only yards away from where Raymond stood, the man slowly approached. Unbuttoning the midriff of his black trench coat, Raymond put his right hand over the handle of an authentic World War ll Nazi dagger on his belt, and unsnapped the small strap of leather which held the handle in place in its sheath. Pulling the knife out into the dim light, he rubbed the smooth enamel surface of the swastika on the handle of the weapon with his thumb, as he always did, and glanced down at it, smiling appreciatively at the nearly perfect diamond shaped red, black, and white design. Waiting for the right moment to strike, with knife in hand, Raymond watched as the unsuspecting stranger was by now, very nearly within striking distance. Expertly, and as he'd done so many times before, Raymond allowed his victim to very nearly pass the alley opening, but just as the man stepped up and over the six inch concrete curb, he came rushing out from the shadows of his hiding place, quickly putting his left hand around the man's mouth and dragging him from the dim light of the flashing sign, back into the cold, dank recesses of his flagging soul. As Raymond dragged the man back into the darkness, he could feel him struggling from beneath his grip. Frightened and surprised by his ill fate, the stranger squirmed and writhed but tried in vain to break free of Raymond's strong, practiced hold. As the man's heartbeat rose, so did the pace of his breathing, but like a large snake, securing its victim by wrapping around it and increasing its pressure, so did Raymond's grasp, as the left biceps of his arm flexed and tightened. Suddenly, and with surgical precision, Raymond stabbed his victim, piercing the right kidney, and as the cold steel blade entered his body, his eyes widened and his chest heaved with one great labored breath. The piercing blade, like a terrible hot iron severed arteries and cut muscle from bone along the course of its deadly path. Upon removing the now blood stained blade, Raymond could feel the life force slowly fading from his victim, and in releasing his grasp from around the man's mouth, the unfortunate stranger fell first to his knees, wavering for a moment and then finally, as life's struggle came to its shocking conclusion, falling in a heap to the wet pavement beneath Raymond's feet. In the dark, standing over his fresh kill, Raymond tore open the coat of his victim with his hands and cut the shirt sleeves of the corpse, revealing both of the dead man's upper arms. Then quickly and with precision, Raymond severed the top and bottom attachments of the biceps, removed them and stored them in a plastic storage bag he brought along with him, especially for the occasion. Next, Raymond sliced open the pant legs of the dead man, cutting a nearly perfect line up and along the crease of the trouser until the large quadriceps muscles of the forelegs were exposed and by the same method he'd used to remove the man's biceps, he also removed the powerful front muscles Click here to read the rest of this story (2823 more lines)
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