Murder, the word has crossed my lips hundreds of times, usually when I’m angry, or joking around. Would I ever kill someone? No. But sometimes you just need to say it, those two syllables with so much power rolling off my tongue, that one word that could make anyone flinch.
I walked into the yard there it was, my mothers dead body. Her eyes looked askew and her hank closed in on her mouth. Blood was coursing down her shoulder and I saw a small knife wound in her neck. I look up and there he is the man who murdered my mother.
I want to murder my husband she said. Well not really but just in my head she said. Why do we love someone so much and yet sometimes hate them enought to murder them as well. There is a fine line between love and hate.
we are all guilty of murder
in one sense or another
one is able to kill many things
hopes
dreams
self-esteems
whether it be your own or some one else’s
you are a murderer
“I’ll go first, you follow, got it?” He grips the knife handle with a great fury, his hand blanched. He looks at me with the most desperate eyes I’d ever seen. With a great lunge, he buries the knife in his stomach, a choked cough escaping his lips.
I watch him fall to the ground, the blood flowing and flowing down the sidewalk creases. I stare at his eyes, those eyes that remind me of a dirt field, with spots of green grass in random areas. The light leaves them.
I watch him die, and as I watch the light leave his eyes, I drop the knife. The blade reflects soft moonlight into my terrified, tearing eyes.
Staring at the ceiling, I’ll let a part of myself die. Here, underneath an invisible moon, far beyond his gaze, I’ll lose him. It will take time. Little pieces. His touch, the sound of his voice, the feeling of security I felt in his arms. Here, in the moonlight, I’ll slowly begin to kill him, to murder us.
Terry didn’t know what to expect, a man was murdered right before her eyes. The guts poored out of his body like water pouring out of a pitcher, and it scared her half to death. She froze in her space and slowly released a strong scream that no one could hear. She fell to the floor. He was really dead.
Turning pages won’t take the best out of me into the world
or fill me with emptiness like I want to be on days my fullness makes me want to upchuck the world the way the African god did at the beginning of time
I’d never kill myself
It’d be too much like murder, that feeling that I am not who I think I am
And Loki’s breathing as much as me inside these cage (bird) bird that racket like a wind chime
Bid me weep when my weeping days come and hush when my sorrow is too much
Not only Loki fills my heavy, buried bones-
The world is silent here, because here, inside, on the forest of my lungs
The world is free
I’d never kill myself
If I did, I’d murder every chance the world has
(of me)
she looked down at the slowly bleeding body. it’s cold, lifeless eyes seemed to ask her” why di you do this? you loved me.” she stared at his eyes until she collapsed to the floor beside him.
murder was a horror romantic movie. with lots of sex and drama. emran hasmi was the actor who had sex wid mallika on stairs when her husband was away. it was a boring movie not at all a family movie.. and i watched it twenty times
When the knife touched her throat all she could think about was how it was the exact knife she would have used. Just the right balance, make, even the perfect color. Straight, simple black. And that was when Susanna fell in love with her murderer, just a little bit. It was a shame she’d have to kill him once he let her go.
This is a confession
And a promise
A promise that these will be the last words i write, perhaps the last thing i do ever. Period. Because it wasn’t so much that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that i was in the right place at the right one.
“I’m very good at my job.” I said to him before blowing his head off. I wonder what I’ll say before blowing off mine
i have yo murder an aplle and im eating it so good and im kinda hungry but im going to the bar and drinking beer scots birthdfay that is today at the aplle is good but the pizza place accross from foufs has dirty food but its better then an apple i gave devon an appple today becasuye he asked for one but a bunch of peoiple ate them all in like
The twinkling lights seem too cheerful to be lighting up the scene of death spread out before them. They are fairy lights, christmas lights- things that light up the beautiful and serene. The blood and gore on the ground should have been uncovered by bright, garish floodlights, or official looking car headlights. But no one has arrived. Yet. The murder lays undisturbed, death lit up by beautiful, soft lights twinkling in the night.
I shot him in the back and he slumped to the ground. What had I done? I ended this man’s life. He was gone, at my doing. I turned the gun on myself. The bullet exploded through my skull. This was the end.
she wrote. she writes. She’s writing on the walls in the back alleyways with blood stained hands wondering where the lost her courage. Her blood is her own and her alleyways are not worth noticing.
The other day, my roommate agreed with me that it would be a fantastic practical joke to hire a hitman. Now that you’ve brought me here, under the light so to speak–I always think of old noir films when I think about police interrogations–I guess I can tell that it wasn’t funny to the guy we had killed.
Cold hands like the darkness of my peace
And I am forever terrified of the idea.
Do I know you?
You don’t know me.
I hope you never will,
With your cold hands and your slow smile.
kill, homicide
the end of your life
no pulse, no breathing
blood… everywhere
was it painful or painless
quick?
What goes through your mind when you know you’re about to die
when you know your life is ending at the hands of someone else.
She is young. Younger then those I usually stalk but…But something in her eye, in her hands and movements and expressions. It makes her seem older- more put together. I’ve watched her, studied her from afar. I’ve seen how her teachers regard her as an almost equal, how the other students rarely look at her, and when they do its with mystified stares and blank looks. She’s lonely. So lonely I can almost imagine its me. My loneliness from another life come to haunt me. So I decide to give her a gift. Like Luke did all those years ago. I can still feel his hands, touching me while his knife slid further into my belly. I shivered with pleasure when the knife hit my heart, killing me instantly. And then I woke up. But that was a long time ago, and I know what I need to focus on now. I walk toward her as she crosses the street, her backpack still slung over her shoulder, and eyes planted firmly on the ground. I am slow in crossing her path, taking time to pop a breath mint in my mouth, spritzing perfume all over my body. Our scent always puts them off, and i want to be careful not to disturb her. I glare at the sky, stubbornly bright and cheerful. I almost wish I had chose a different day for her murder- a day that wouldn’t hurt her eyes so. But i had put too much effort into this choice to hold back now that it had finally been made. I reach out my hand, finally near enough to touch her lightly on the shoulder.
“Um…Do you know how t-to get to Hyde P-ark from here?” I say. I’d learned long ago the best way to lie is to seem defenseless, no harm to anyone. Stuttering always works, and i especially like the fact my girl had had a stutter years ago. She was almost certain to take the bait. To lead me into the obscure shortcut deep in the woods.
“Yeah.” she replies. She offers me a squinty glance before breaking into a shy smile. My responding smile is brilliant, for my plan is working to perfection. Lead on my girl- let me rescue you. “It’s…I mean theres a shortcut just through there.” She gestures to an opening in the thick, dark forest. It’s almost a deer path, though darker and a bit more weedy. “I- I could take you if you want.”
“Yes!” I say, fighting not to sound to eager. We walk together. Slowly entering the green forest until the sun is all but blocked from view- this has been easy. Almost too easy. And that is when i feel in. Deep in my stomach, in almost the exact spot Luke stabbed me all those years ago a sharp horrible pain. We are hard to kill, but if you know where the sire made their death mark all you have to do is stab us there again. I whirl around. Staring at the blood staining the girls hands. She looks at me, her face hard and unmoving. I fall forward, tasting blood in my mouth. Oh God. Its really happening…I’m, I’m dying. And the girl kneels beneath me, cradling my head in her hands.
“It’s ok.” She says, “It’s ok.” Over and over. “You can die now, Vampire. You can finally sleep.” She leaves me then. She thinks me dead. But i’m not…not yet at least. No. I’m still staring at the sun. Staring at its brightness. And wondering, laughing, at the murder that took place that day. My murder.
and that was how the vampire died- staring at the sun and laughing at her death. finally welcomed into the gentle lull of oblivion
There was murder in her eyes.
When she walked over to our table, someone had said something, done something that did not sit well.
She was livid, fuming without a cigarette in sight.
There would be hell to pay and it seemed we had been left holding the bill.
He climbed the staircase cautiously, following the trail of blood. He had his gun ready, for all he knows the killer could still be in the building. No matter how many years he has been doing this jib, nothing can compare to the sickness in his stomach as he searches each room, anticipating the violence that may await him.
In a world full of liars and hatred. I see murder everyday. Weather its someone forcing someone else to take pills, or rape, or stabbing the hell out of someone. I see it every where. It upsets me. It hurts me. I hate it. I hate this world. and most of the people in it.
When I woke up I didn’t think I would be knee deep in a murder with blood on my hands. Then again, I didn’t think I would eat three day old McDonalds for breakfast either.
It was a quick death, the swipe of a sharp blade on the unsuspecting victim at the prison cell. One may ask how the inmate got the weapon but then again they were adept at taking lives for no reason other than revenge, the kind of thing they tallied up as a sport. These were prisoners where rehabilitation had little affect and only their weapons spoke.
it was a dark day quite unlike the day before, witch sucked ass because today was the day i had to kill someone, and isn’t it so nice that I have to kill this idiot in the rain, I knew I shouldn’t have waited
Everything is dark when Sam Winchester wakes up with a start. He can hear the rain pounding against the roof- as he hears it, a single drop hits his nose.
But it was blood.
Groaning, he sits up in bed, and stretches. Jessica is pinned to the ceiling- good riddance.
it was a dark night when Wallace Tubs stepped from his front porch. The last thing on his mind was murder- but the first thing on his mind was food, and sometimes the two are perfectly linked. At any rate by the time they found his body the only thing eating were rats
There was a murder down the street. The night was dark and cold, a sickening vacuum of rain and sleet falling alongside the street lights. She cried, but her plea fell on deaf ears.
Murder is so strong. One thinks about it and suddenly some sensation comes to you. It’s not like you like to murder, or perhaps that you were murdered (you wouldn’t be thinking about murder then), it’s just that interjection of the R and the D…
That’s all he could think about. He had a plan. He knew where and when it would go down. The parking lot, on 5th street. He’d pretend he was homeless. But would he have the guts? Could he do it? He had to. Her life was/is on the line, and he couldn’t risk it.
someone who kills people and is very nasty, has bad intentions and continually proceeds with this vindictive actions without a care in the world, although it must be said that at times a normal individual can become a murderer if they are put into an awkward situation and find themselves in a position where committing a murder is necessary.
And just like that, the life of a human being was forever gone. A life filled with billions of separate moments of happiness and sadness and passion and anger and hate and love, ceased to exist. The simplicity of the act of murder is one of the greatest lies ever presented in our modern culture. I had wrongly used the dark power that all humans are unfortunately given to end the possibilities and opportunities held in the life of another. The guilt overwhelmed me, like a powerful wave pulling me down to the depths of the sea, drowning me and crushing my black soul, until the point when I could no longer breathe. Shakespearean words echoed in my mind as I felt the blood on my hands turning all of Poseidon’s green sea a deep, and unforgivable red.
terrifying. it’s been happening too much lately. what is it that forces one to take another’s life? what is the driving factor? that puts another’s death at the top of your wish list. i don’t understand it. i don’t understand life. it’s all so scarey. i’m so afraid.
Murder, the word has crossed my lips hundreds of times, usually when I’m angry, or joking around. Would I ever kill someone? No. But sometimes you just need to say it, those two syllables with so much power rolling off my tongue, that one word that could make anyone flinch.
I walked into the yard there it was, my mothers dead body. Her eyes looked askew and her hank closed in on her mouth. Blood was coursing down her shoulder and I saw a small knife wound in her neck. I look up and there he is the man who murdered my mother.
I want to murder my husband she said. Well not really but just in my head she said. Why do we love someone so much and yet sometimes hate them enought to murder them as well. There is a fine line between love and hate.
we are all guilty of murder
in one sense or another
one is able to kill many things
hopes
dreams
self-esteems
whether it be your own or some one else’s
you are a murderer
“I’ll go first, you follow, got it?” He grips the knife handle with a great fury, his hand blanched. He looks at me with the most desperate eyes I’d ever seen. With a great lunge, he buries the knife in his stomach, a choked cough escaping his lips.
I watch him fall to the ground, the blood flowing and flowing down the sidewalk creases. I stare at his eyes, those eyes that remind me of a dirt field, with spots of green grass in random areas. The light leaves them.
I watch him die, and as I watch the light leave his eyes, I drop the knife. The blade reflects soft moonlight into my terrified, tearing eyes.
Staring at the ceiling, I’ll let a part of myself die. Here, underneath an invisible moon, far beyond his gaze, I’ll lose him. It will take time. Little pieces. His touch, the sound of his voice, the feeling of security I felt in his arms. Here, in the moonlight, I’ll slowly begin to kill him, to murder us.
Terry didn’t know what to expect, a man was murdered right before her eyes. The guts poored out of his body like water pouring out of a pitcher, and it scared her half to death. She froze in her space and slowly released a strong scream that no one could hear. She fell to the floor. He was really dead.
Turning pages won’t take the best out of me into the world
or fill me with emptiness like I want to be on days my fullness makes me want to upchuck the world the way the African god did at the beginning of time
I’d never kill myself
It’d be too much like murder, that feeling that I am not who I think I am
And Loki’s breathing as much as me inside these cage (bird) bird that racket like a wind chime
Bid me weep when my weeping days come and hush when my sorrow is too much
Not only Loki fills my heavy, buried bones-
The world is silent here, because here, inside, on the forest of my lungs
The world is free
I’d never kill myself
If I did, I’d murder every chance the world has
(of me)
she looked down at the slowly bleeding body. it’s cold, lifeless eyes seemed to ask her” why di you do this? you loved me.” she stared at his eyes until she collapsed to the floor beside him.
murder was a horror romantic movie. with lots of sex and drama. emran hasmi was the actor who had sex wid mallika on stairs when her husband was away. it was a boring movie not at all a family movie.. and i watched it twenty times
When the knife touched her throat all she could think about was how it was the exact knife she would have used. Just the right balance, make, even the perfect color. Straight, simple black. And that was when Susanna fell in love with her murderer, just a little bit. It was a shame she’d have to kill him once he let her go.
This is a confession
And a promise
A promise that these will be the last words i write, perhaps the last thing i do ever. Period. Because it wasn’t so much that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that i was in the right place at the right one.
“I’m very good at my job.” I said to him before blowing his head off. I wonder what I’ll say before blowing off mine
i have yo murder an aplle and im eating it so good and im kinda hungry but im going to the bar and drinking beer scots birthdfay that is today at the aplle is good but the pizza place accross from foufs has dirty food but its better then an apple i gave devon an appple today becasuye he asked for one but a bunch of peoiple ate them all in like
The twinkling lights seem too cheerful to be lighting up the scene of death spread out before them. They are fairy lights, christmas lights- things that light up the beautiful and serene. The blood and gore on the ground should have been uncovered by bright, garish floodlights, or official looking car headlights. But no one has arrived. Yet. The murder lays undisturbed, death lit up by beautiful, soft lights twinkling in the night.
surely you don’t mean
mmuuurrrder?
I shot him in the back and he slumped to the ground. What had I done? I ended this man’s life. He was gone, at my doing. I turned the gun on myself. The bullet exploded through my skull. This was the end.
she wrote. she writes. She’s writing on the walls in the back alleyways with blood stained hands wondering where the lost her courage. Her blood is her own and her alleyways are not worth noticing.
The other day, my roommate agreed with me that it would be a fantastic practical joke to hire a hitman. Now that you’ve brought me here, under the light so to speak–I always think of old noir films when I think about police interrogations–I guess I can tell that it wasn’t funny to the guy we had killed.
Cold hands like the darkness of my peace
And I am forever terrified of the idea.
Do I know you?
You don’t know me.
I hope you never will,
With your cold hands and your slow smile.
“this,” she said, “isn’t what I asked for.”
the body was already starting to smell but the heart looked pretty in her hands, curved nails. pink. cute.
“happy valentines day,” i said.
kill, homicide
the end of your life
no pulse, no breathing
blood… everywhere
was it painful or painless
quick?
What goes through your mind when you know you’re about to die
when you know your life is ending at the hands of someone else.
She is young. Younger then those I usually stalk but…But something in her eye, in her hands and movements and expressions. It makes her seem older- more put together. I’ve watched her, studied her from afar. I’ve seen how her teachers regard her as an almost equal, how the other students rarely look at her, and when they do its with mystified stares and blank looks. She’s lonely. So lonely I can almost imagine its me. My loneliness from another life come to haunt me. So I decide to give her a gift. Like Luke did all those years ago. I can still feel his hands, touching me while his knife slid further into my belly. I shivered with pleasure when the knife hit my heart, killing me instantly. And then I woke up. But that was a long time ago, and I know what I need to focus on now. I walk toward her as she crosses the street, her backpack still slung over her shoulder, and eyes planted firmly on the ground. I am slow in crossing her path, taking time to pop a breath mint in my mouth, spritzing perfume all over my body. Our scent always puts them off, and i want to be careful not to disturb her. I glare at the sky, stubbornly bright and cheerful. I almost wish I had chose a different day for her murder- a day that wouldn’t hurt her eyes so. But i had put too much effort into this choice to hold back now that it had finally been made. I reach out my hand, finally near enough to touch her lightly on the shoulder.
“Um…Do you know how t-to get to Hyde P-ark from here?” I say. I’d learned long ago the best way to lie is to seem defenseless, no harm to anyone. Stuttering always works, and i especially like the fact my girl had had a stutter years ago. She was almost certain to take the bait. To lead me into the obscure shortcut deep in the woods.
“Yeah.” she replies. She offers me a squinty glance before breaking into a shy smile. My responding smile is brilliant, for my plan is working to perfection. Lead on my girl- let me rescue you. “It’s…I mean theres a shortcut just through there.” She gestures to an opening in the thick, dark forest. It’s almost a deer path, though darker and a bit more weedy. “I- I could take you if you want.”
“Yes!” I say, fighting not to sound to eager. We walk together. Slowly entering the green forest until the sun is all but blocked from view- this has been easy. Almost too easy. And that is when i feel in. Deep in my stomach, in almost the exact spot Luke stabbed me all those years ago a sharp horrible pain. We are hard to kill, but if you know where the sire made their death mark all you have to do is stab us there again. I whirl around. Staring at the blood staining the girls hands. She looks at me, her face hard and unmoving. I fall forward, tasting blood in my mouth. Oh God. Its really happening…I’m, I’m dying. And the girl kneels beneath me, cradling my head in her hands.
“It’s ok.” She says, “It’s ok.” Over and over. “You can die now, Vampire. You can finally sleep.” She leaves me then. She thinks me dead. But i’m not…not yet at least. No. I’m still staring at the sun. Staring at its brightness. And wondering, laughing, at the murder that took place that day. My murder.
and that was how the vampire died- staring at the sun and laughing at her death. finally welcomed into the gentle lull of oblivion
There was murder in her eyes.
When she walked over to our table, someone had said something, done something that did not sit well.
She was livid, fuming without a cigarette in sight.
There would be hell to pay and it seemed we had been left holding the bill.
He climbed the staircase cautiously, following the trail of blood. He had his gun ready, for all he knows the killer could still be in the building. No matter how many years he has been doing this jib, nothing can compare to the sickness in his stomach as he searches each room, anticipating the violence that may await him.
In a world full of liars and hatred. I see murder everyday. Weather its someone forcing someone else to take pills, or rape, or stabbing the hell out of someone. I see it every where. It upsets me. It hurts me. I hate it. I hate this world. and most of the people in it.
“Otto, what would you do if you thought maybe your boyfriend was… was only really interested in sex?”
“Commit murder.”
“Otto.”
“Commit mass murder. Kill him and also all of his friends. And his family.”
“Otto I’m being serious.”
“I’m sorry. I’m tired.”
When I woke up I didn’t think I would be knee deep in a murder with blood on my hands. Then again, I didn’t think I would eat three day old McDonalds for breakfast either.
the night was deep and the body was already cold/ his poor wife/ she won`t ever know about his other life and his other family, good for her.
It was a quick death, the swipe of a sharp blade on the unsuspecting victim at the prison cell. One may ask how the inmate got the weapon but then again they were adept at taking lives for no reason other than revenge, the kind of thing they tallied up as a sport. These were prisoners where rehabilitation had little affect and only their weapons spoke.
it was a dark day quite unlike the day before, witch sucked ass because today was the day i had to kill someone, and isn’t it so nice that I have to kill this idiot in the rain, I knew I shouldn’t have waited
Everything is dark when Sam Winchester wakes up with a start. He can hear the rain pounding against the roof- as he hears it, a single drop hits his nose.
But it was blood.
Groaning, he sits up in bed, and stretches. Jessica is pinned to the ceiling- good riddance.
it was a dark night when Wallace Tubs stepped from his front porch. The last thing on his mind was murder- but the first thing on his mind was food, and sometimes the two are perfectly linked. At any rate by the time they found his body the only thing eating were rats
when there is a killing and it occurs in cold blood that is murder
There was a murder down the street. The night was dark and cold, a sickening vacuum of rain and sleet falling alongside the street lights. She cried, but her plea fell on deaf ears.
sometimes
I remember the dreams
between acceptable awake-ness
and drowsy 5ams
I shudder
this is not a reflection
of my thoughts.
Murder is so strong. One thinks about it and suddenly some sensation comes to you. It’s not like you like to murder, or perhaps that you were murdered (you wouldn’t be thinking about murder then), it’s just that interjection of the R and the D…
That’s all he could think about. He had a plan. He knew where and when it would go down. The parking lot, on 5th street. He’d pretend he was homeless. But would he have the guts? Could he do it? He had to. Her life was/is on the line, and he couldn’t risk it.
someone who kills people and is very nasty, has bad intentions and continually proceeds with this vindictive actions without a care in the world, although it must be said that at times a normal individual can become a murderer if they are put into an awkward situation and find themselves in a position where committing a murder is necessary.
And just like that, the life of a human being was forever gone. A life filled with billions of separate moments of happiness and sadness and passion and anger and hate and love, ceased to exist. The simplicity of the act of murder is one of the greatest lies ever presented in our modern culture. I had wrongly used the dark power that all humans are unfortunately given to end the possibilities and opportunities held in the life of another. The guilt overwhelmed me, like a powerful wave pulling me down to the depths of the sea, drowning me and crushing my black soul, until the point when I could no longer breathe. Shakespearean words echoed in my mind as I felt the blood on my hands turning all of Poseidon’s green sea a deep, and unforgivable red.
terrifying. it’s been happening too much lately. what is it that forces one to take another’s life? what is the driving factor? that puts another’s death at the top of your wish list. i don’t understand it. i don’t understand life. it’s all so scarey. i’m so afraid.