Posts Tagged ‘serial killer’

Darkthrone by PriestofTerror on

Her heart burned like a cattle brand. “I love you,” she cried.

“You’re nuts.” He grabbed his briefcase, headed for the door.

She grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave.”

He swung his case, nailing her nose. She slammed against the hutch, china shattering around her.

“Holy shit!” He bent over her. “You okay?”

She grabbed a china shard, swung, piercing his eye with a bloody pop.

He screeched, clawing his face. She snatched the lamp, swung, burying the shard deeper.

“Fourth salesman this week,” she sighed, dragging his limp body to the basement with the others. “I’ll never get a boyfriend.”

Chainsaw by dholl on

Eugene cranked the starter rope. The chainsaw growled, then died. “Aw, man.”

“What’s wrong, son?”

“Stupid chainsaw’s busted.”

“Well, let’s see. Did you turn it on?”

“Of course.”

“Prime it?”


“Check the gas?”

Eugene smacked his forehead.

“Sometimes it’s the simple stuff.” Dad filled the tank.

Eugene cranked. The chainsaw roared.

Dad gave him thumbs up. “Goggles, son!”

Eugene lowered his goggles.

Dad cranked his chainsaw to life. He ushered his son into Omega House.

Eugene couldn’t cut through limbs in one swipe like dad, but he disemboweled his share of frat boys.

He’d master the trade soon enough.

Taken. Held. In a room fit for no one. The grime on the walls told me all I needed to know.

Hanging by AllyneAllyne on

It was now time to find my inner demon. My inner maniac. My inner killer.

The shelf above me had a rusty pair of scissors, some rope, and a broken chair leg. I grabbed. I tied.

Weapon made. Blood boiling. Sweat dripping. I grabbed and yanked at the old metal door and stared at the face of my captor as it swung from a bloodied chain. Someone else was here, and I now wondered if they knew about me.

Jesse by Seancarroll on

Bubba checked the smoker. Perfect coals.

“I’ll get the rump roast,” said Jesse. In the truck bed, three gagged Boy Scouts struggled against their bindings. The two skinny ones froze. The fat one inched away. Jesse grabbed his ankles. He flopped like a trout as Jesse dragged him to the bloody stump.

Jesse raised his axe. A ripping sound. Brown soaked through the boy’s shorts. “Damn.” Jesse lowered his axe. “Rump roast’s done spoiled!”

The boy looked up, hopeful.

“How ‘bout ribs?” Bubba hollered.

The boy’s muffled scream silenced with a CHOP! and that meat just fell off the bone.

Bloody Day by BloodyZone on

She woke.
It was so dark that she felt she hadn’t opened her eyes. She stumbled to her feet and lost her balance, landing in a heap again. The ground, hard and cold, felt wet to the touch. She tried to look at her hand in front of her face but could see nothing. The silence choked her and circled her like a pitch black shadow of a hyena. She could smell rusted metal, bitter and wretched, and felt the wetness drying a little on her fingertips.
A sound, like a sword pulled from its sheath. True silence.

WoodShed by SideStreetStudio on

Josh’s hand slid under Bethany’s t-shirt, popping open her bra.

She giggled. “You sure we’re good here?”

“Sure, babe. It’s our private love shack.” He pulled her close, kissing her.

She unzipped him, slid her hand in. “You like that?”

He nodded, moaning.

She shoved her tongue deep into his mouth.

He shuddered, his body stiffening.

Already? she thought.

She tasted copper, pulled back. His mouth sprayed her face with blood.

She looked down. A machete tip pulled back inside his ruined belly.

She screamed.

“Ah, young love,” cooed the beast outside, shoving the machete back through the shed slats.

Hunter by neisbeis on

Cold and dark. Winter hunts were always fun, but this time we struggled to find prey.

Hunting season, December through March. New tools for skinning and dissection lined our bodies as we stalked the streets.

Watching through the window as the victims sat unaware, strategy forming in my head. Then I saw Greg enter the room, a broken bottle sharpened in his hand. He sunk it into the back of the girl, and then slit the throat of the man.

That bastard Greg had got the first kill, and my chance was now lost. Oh well, there’s always next year.

Laugh in the Dark by PriestofTerror on

Molly knew this wasn’t a dream, but she prayed for someone to wake her up.

Blood dripped from the rusted table and pooled on the floor.

Blood … Jack’s Blood.

An innocent prank turned deadly, and she was next.

Closing her eyes did nothing. The echoes of Jack’s screams still rang in her mind.

This was all too cliché to be real.

But it was.

“You’re next, my dear,” he said. “I have something special planned for you.”

His manic laughter filled the room.

Molly struggled.

Too late.

Her blood mixed with Jack’s, and the maniac hummed his favorite tune.

Life On The Murder Scene by Floorsucker on

The sirloin was dry. Mr. Cechmanek wanted to enjoy his lunch at Cadabbara’s, but he couldn’t get past the disappointing brawn.

“How is it, sir?” asked the tall brunette attending to Mr. Cechmanek.

“I like my bodies similar to a sirloin – warm, bloody,” Mr. Cechmanek replied.

He paid his tab and snagged a Cadabbara’s business card upon exit. Through the terror of modern technology, Mr. Cechmanek found the chef’s address. Later, Mr. Cechmanek’s Wagoneer pulled up to a house adjacent to the unfortunate chef’s residence. Scimitar in hand, Mr. Cechmanek got the piece of meat he sought out – warm, bloody.

The Juggernaut, Armoured Truck by Mark-MrHiDE-Patten on

Comment: The Brothers Mutante only liked to do two things: murder and driving their truck. So they put their heads together, spent a month in the garage, and welded their asses off.

Result: A monster truck covered in spikes and blades and ragged hooks with a built-in wood chipper installed on the front bumper. To the sides, drainage pipes ran the length of the truck, with strategically placed holes from which the blood would flow.

What a site to behold as it plowed through pedestrians!

An endless, torrential shower of blood, guts, blood, gore, blood, brains, blood, bone, and blood!