Posts Tagged ‘murder’

office worker by ded-kat on DeviantArt.com

“Smertz!”

Oliver Smertz finished sharpening his pencil, then turned casually. Five temps in monogrammed Polos blocked the door. Wendell from H.R. stepped forward, pointing. “That’s my pencil!”

Oliver sighed. “Your point?”

Sneering, Wendell flicked the tip off Oliver’s pencil. “My point.”

Oliver turned away, placing his pencil back in the sharpener. Grinding and woody incense followed.

Grabbing Oliver’s collar, Wendell snarled, “Defying me is pointless!”

Oliver spun, shoving the No. 2 up Wendell’s nostril. Wendell screamed. Blood spurted as the graphite penetrated deeper. Temps scattered. Wendell collapsed, shuddering on the linoleum.

Oliver plucked a pencil from Wendell’s pocket protector. “Point taken.”

 

Crone by Chenthooran on DeviantArt.com

The door’s bell chimed, bringing the clockmaker’s attention to the boy walking in.

“Wanna buy this?” He proffered a battered timepiece.

She took it. “Where did you find this?”

“Twenty bucks.”

She adjusted her eye piece. Under the tarnish, twelfth century, her mark. The front door latched. The boy fidgeted.

“Are you hungry?” His eyes flickered yes. She pulled a cookie from a jar. He snatched it, wolfed it down. She offered another while polishing the silver. “Don’t take this personally.”

The boy dropped to the floor, withered to ash. She swept him up, then turned the shop sign “Closed.”

Laughter, the best medicine by VaggelisFragiadakis on DeviantArt.com

The doorbell rang. Betsy shuffled to the door. As she opened it, rank smoke billowed inward. On her doorstep, a paper bag burned.

“Oh dear.” She stomped on it. The bag burst, smearing her Dr. Scholl’s in dog poo.

Laughter erupted from behind some bushes.

“Dadgum neighborhood boys,” said Betsy, wiping her shoes with a tea towel.

The next day, the doorbell rang. Betsy shuffled to the door and opened it. An open pit had replaced the doormat. She peered down the hole. Two boys wailed as spikes penetrated their intestines.

“Respect your elders, scoundrels!” said Betsy, closing the trapdoor.

Cudgel by QueenGwenevere on DeviantArt.com

Cudgel by QueenGwenevere on DeviantArt.com

Twenty years of suckling drove Mama to abandon Baby Bron. He crawled from giant crib, club-sized rattle in hand, diaper reeking. He bludgeoned and ate the cat. Crawled into the street, fed on street dogs.

Urchins beat him until he snatched one. Crying “Mama,” he hugged the whelp with thick limbs, the bones cracking.

Slumdogs wailed, “Giant killer baby!”

Soldiers came with spears, poked at Baby Bron. He sobbed and toddled toward them, swinging his massive rattle. Spears and skulls shattered. One guard backed to the wall.

“Mama,” whimpered Baby Bron.

“Mama,” cried the guard, disappearing in a chunky embrace.

ZOMBIE by Metalinvasor on DeviantArt.com

The knob jiggled; Katie positioned herself near the door. There was a second of silence before it flew open in an explosion of splinters. Katie swung her bat, but the intruder ripped it out of her hands, and smashed her skull with one nauseating crack.

I buried my axe into his neck before he could turn around. He dropped beside her, bleeding out onto the floor.

Another man entered. We quickly assessed each other.

He held out his hand. I grabbed my supplies before accepting it, and followed him out.

And that’s how I met your father.

Paizo monster – Mosquito Monster by DevBurmak on DevinatArt.com

The government’s solution to the mosquito pandemic buzzed in Dr. Meyer’s lab.

“Genetic manipulations, controlled releases, the parasites will soon be extinct,” said General Shaw, leading an assembly into the lab. “Right, doctor?”

Through his hazmat suit, Dr. Meyer said, “This plague will soon end.”

“When shall we release them?”

“Now.” Meyer pressed a remote. Dark swarms flew from trap doors. Huge, aggressive, bloodthirsty, they attacked the visitors. “You ask me to orchestrate their genocide?” shouted Meyer amidst screams. “This species predates the dinosaurs. The hubris!”

He stepped over desiccated corpses, opened a window, releasing the swarm. “Eliminate the parasites!”

Gaara by Hiruka00 on DeviantArt.com

Klip ran as fast as he could, chased by the Huffing Man. The man was the leader, so Klip decided he should be first.

The boy slid beneath the porch and scrambled under the house and out the other side. The Huffing Man tried to follow but was too big and was soon stuck.

Several children bashed in his head and watched as his body quivered before becoming still. They cheered, but the celebration was short-lived.

Klip came around from the rear of the house. “Drag the body to the barn,” he ordered, “while I go get another grown-up.”

ambush by tahra on DeviantArt.com

Three of us remain: he and she and I. I want him, so I lie in wait, crouched in shadow near the only fresh-water source for miles.

The sky is as gray as the land, with a wide ellipse of turbulent crimson, dotted with darker gray — always churning.

She comes, bucket in hand, and I leap from the darkness, slashing with my scythe. Gouts of blood float in seeming slow-motion as she falls to the ground — gray on red on gray again.

I’ve won, securing for myself the second-to-last man on earth by elimination of the last woman.

Drowning by KarolinaNoumenon on DeviantArt.com

Gin felt the lake close over her as she bathed. Recent attacks came to mind as a hand covered her mouth. She let herself drop, and planted a solid punch into a groin. Exhaling loudly her uncle bent and she chopped his throat, her hand hard as steel. He fell forward. Gin stomped his neck and forced him under water. She kept the pressure on until he ceased flailing, then hurriedly dressed and ran home. This might be the death of her and her family, her uncle having been a powerful lord, but what was done was done.

Samurai commission by Brolo on DeviantArt.com

If you slash a man’s face, urinate on it, and trample it with straw sandals, the skin will come off.
–HAGAKURE

These samurai treat us like dogs, kick us and beat us because we’re common. “My Master” is drunk on sake and snoring like a bear. I creep into his room and stab and stab …

and …

and …

something sharp pierces my back. I look down: a katana protrudes from my belly. I fall. I see now, on his futon, an empty pile of blankets. “My Lord” raises his bloodied blade. I chuckle. The irony! I die like a samurai.