(Before reading please be advised that this story contains violence that some may not like)
Ever hear a dead man scream? I have, it isn’t pleasant.
Yes murder isn’t morally correct, but is it really that bad? I mean, the man had it coming. He didn’t deserve to live. Yet here I am, I’m facing the death sentence. Life is a cruel thing, hell if you asked me, I’ve done far worse things to other humans and have gotten away with it. Yet the electric chair still awaits me. I didn’t deserve what I got, if he was still alive I wouldn’t be in this position. It’s not my fault he had to die. I don’t normally say this but I was scared, yes I’ll admit that. I wasn’t scared to die however, I was scared that my life wasn’t complete. I had so many things I wanted to do but couldn’t due to my fate. But sooner or later we all would die, I will die, you will die, we all will die…
All I could think about was how things went that day, how his blood stained my fist, the newly carved smile on his face, his missing fingers. That was the best day of my life. I remember the taste of his flesh, he was young and sweet. He was perfect, his meat was barely touched, he had lots to share, not much fat, and he was nice and juicy. His personality however was a bit of a bad one, he screamed and yelled the first time we met. I tried to calm him down but he only screamed louder. I didn’t want any trouble.
I saw him from across the street and quickly approached him. I noticed he was in a suit so he must’ve been important. Never dined that fine before. His cologne was a sweet fragrant smell and he had beautiful blue eyes. Ashame they looked so terrified when I last saw them. The street around us was a ghost town, nobody in sight. I made my move fast. I approached him, pointed my blade into his stomach and told him to go into the alley. When we got there I could see the fear in his eyes. He was scanning the surrounding area for an escape. He had nothing to escape from, he was trapped. I enjoyed watching him tremble in fear, I enjoyed every last one of his breaths. Finally I grew hungry and slit his throat. Real shame he had to die but whatever, I didn’t eat breakfast that morning so I was particularly hungry. After sliting his throat I cut him up and started to eat his raw flesh. Still warm, just how I liked it. I felt the juice in his meat fill my mouth, oh how succulent he was. He was perfect.
Now here I was, sitting on this electric chair. Handcuffed and unable to move. I didn’t eat my last meal that day because it wasn’t what I requested. I wanted a small child, preferably a white child. So tasty, yet so rare. I didn’t get that as a meal, instead I was given steak and fries. I didn’t eat that meal, I didn’t like it. Instead I started chewing on my arm, nobody will be allowed to eat my flesh besides me.
As they finished preparing me for my execution, a sad thought came to my mind. I was a horrible person, the guilt flooded me until tears came to my eyes. I was a monster. Suddenly I regretted all of my actions. My life flashed before my eyes and I saw many saddening visions. I saw my mother with a steak knife sticking out of her chest, my dad’s head being beaten with a baseball bat. How they tasted… And here I was, just another person soon to be forgotten, never remembered, never loved.
Finally the man flipped the switch and I was electrocuted, the lights dimmed as it happened and there I was, a lifeless corpse of what once was a human being. Doomed to rot in hell for eternity.
