The Presence By randomwriter
Insects buzz around me as I stroll through the park. The scorching nearly-end-of-summer heat makes me sweat, which in turn plasters my clothes to my skin.
I look around the park, staring at the flora. No matter how far I run, how well I hide... it'll always find me. Lurking around in the murky depths and shadows, waiting to pounce, tainting...
Bloodthirsty, the presence stalks numerous victims that fall prey to the killer jaws. And I'm next. I can feel it. There's a buzzing in my body that has nothing to do with the bugs outside.
And a trembling in my hands and a chill in my blood, despite the sun's glare. Bloody dreams where last breaths are played over and over again, countless times, filling me with mixed emotions.
How long before the presence does it to me as well? Many others have already succumbed to the presence. It's impossible to resist it, to avoid fate. Death is calling.
And my answer? It's already been decided for me by the presence.
Someone plops onto a bench near me. I'm startled, and it takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and choke out, "Good afternoon" in her direction. It's a gorgeous young woman.
She pushes some strands of brown hair behind her ear and turns to me eagerly. "Hi! Good afternoon to you, too.
Why don't you sit down?" At her insistence, I join her on the bench and allow myself to be drawn into a conversation with her. Her name is Evelyn and she has a dog. She just moved here.
Evelyn shared that she loves chatting with random people in the park everyday, because, as she put it, "Even a stranger can become a good friend."
I burrow deeper and deeper into my shell, happy to let Evelyn do all the talking. I feel guilty.
Evelyn's such a great person, and I don't want her drawn into the tense and deadly web which contains the killer presence and myself.
I don't want to taint her, to help train the sights of the presence onto her. Uncomfortable, I fidget on the bench.
As she pauses to take a breath, I quickly exclaim, "Oh, I forgot! I had- I had an appointment! Gotta go, nice chat, Evelyn!" I jump up and run away.
She gushes, "I'm so sorry I distracted you from your appointment!" She says more, but I'm too far away to hear.
Entering my apartment, I shut the door behind me immediately. I can feel the presence is closer; it's only a matter of time. Sinking to the floor, I cradle my head.
I absolutely loathe being chased and hunted by the presence, being the next victim. Everything has got me jumpy and paranoid, and I stay away from people.
The entire time, I keep on asking why. Why would the presence choose me? Why me, of all people? But I realize now, there's no logic or reasoning to the selection.
The choice is random, influenced only by the craving of blood. I know that now, because I feel the bloodthirstiness as well. The presence has gotten to me.
The hunt in my mind is over, the presence has gripped me, clamped its killer jaws around me, turning me into a killer. My first victim is Darren, an old classmate.
Blood red colors my vision. Everywhere I look, I see potential prey. The conflicting emotions of the bloody dreams of final gasps finally makes sense to me. While horrified, I felt...
satisfied. Joyful. Complete. Thirst quenched, until the next victim was found.
With ease, I find Darren in his house, and he opens the door for me. "Hey Darren, remember me?" "Hey!" My brain tells me to go on a walk with him, lead him to some dark alley, and do the deed with the knife stashed in my sleeve.
But the presence wails for blood, demanding it this instant. I shove into the house, close the door behind me, and leap at Darren. Since this is my first time, it's sloppy.
But it still thrills me, nonetheless, when Darren's eyes stop looking at me with confusion and fear and pain, and the final breath has been breathed. He's gone.
The presence goes silent for a bit, satisfied. Then, it returns with a magnified viciousness, overwhelming everything in me with one single goal: k i l l E v e l y n .
A tiny part of me screams, "No! No!" but the presence won't accept that. It marches the rest of me on, metaphorically licking its lips in anticipation for the next kill.
The tiny part the presence hasn't taken over yet realizes in horror that no kill will quiet the presence.
Each kill will only feed it, let it grow bigger and become addicted, demanding more and more blood until what remains of the human that once was is only a monster,
an uncontrollable beast with an unquenchable need for blood and death.
The tiny part knows. The tiny part must put an end to the killing before the beast grows out of proportion and becomes unstoppable. But how?
I return to the park, this time not chased by the presence, but as the beast, turned into this by the presence which has caught up with me.
The beast drools and gazes hungrily at the park, hoping Evelyn is here. Such a tasty morsel, the bubbly life making the blood-spilling even sweeter, come the beast's thoughts.
No. These have become my thoughts. I am the beast. The instant I spot Evelyn, I run over to her. The beast is no idiot, I know to lead her somewhere secluded.
"Oh, Evelyn, my appointment was actually canceled. I'd love to chat some more with you. I know a peaceful, beautiful spot right this way. Come on."
Evelyn follows, radiantly smiling expectantly, giggling about having such a wonderful friend to show her all the good spots here.
The tiny part of me sobs that such a shining, innocent life must be ended by the savage beast. "Here we are, Evelyn. Thank you for this." I grin wide, eyes manic.
I take out the knife and jab it.
In a flash, Evelyn whirls around, knocks the knife from my hand, and takes a step closer to me, holding a dagger of her own.
She thrusts it into my chest, and I collapse to the ground, stunned. What...? Evelyn murmurs teasingly into my ear, "Oh, you're obviously an amateur.
It takes a serial killer to know a serial killer, and while I'm a notorious expert, you... have barely just started. The bloodlust is so easy to sense radiating off of you.
If you would live long enough to have made it to your fourteenth kill, like me, you'd be able to hide it better. Pity. You won't be able to.
Instead, you have the grand honor of being this clever serial killer's fourteenth victim. Congratulations." She gives me a sickeningly sweet little smirk. My mind spins. I hadn't expected this.
I let out a soft gurgle, blood trickling out of me. Evelyn- if that's even her name- stabs me again, this time in the heart. The last thing I hear is a contented, "Mmm."
The beast that was me is now dead. But the presence, the true serial killer, will keep on living, traveling from victim to victim so they, in turn, can end their own victims. An endless cycle of spilling blood and taking last breaths. Endless deaths.