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Rated: GC · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1377680
Just another day in the life of Andrew J Jones, an unidentified serial killer at large
I know it's just a prologue, so far, but any amount of feedback provided is both happily welcomed and much appreciated. Thank you.


Hell Is Where The Heart Is


Prologue

In a world filled with so much hate, death and destruction, it's but ignorant to believe that we don't already reside in a living Hell. To see the World for what it truly is - Hell in it's purest form - one must only set aside their ignorance and take a look around at the world outside. For both you and the rest of Mankind as a whole, I can only hope that you are neither too blind nor too unawares or oblivious to the wickedness within our wretched World.

As it turns out, due only to his own gullibility and/or refusal to believe, Man far too often overlooks the obvious things in life that are almost always right in front of his very eyes. As such, since actions often speak louder than words - and for reasons I have yet to understand - it’s shamefully apparent that most all of Mankind is in fact oblivious to all the Evil that surrounds him on any given day, place or time. Personally, and it may in all likelihood just be me and my own ambitious sort of nature, I think it’s ‘bout time we pull back the deceptive mask that is upon Earth’s motherly face and reveal to all her inhabitants the true identity behind her fictitiously fake façade. The question is not only how, but whom among us could possibly have such incriminating evidence against our World? As fate would have it, it is I who carries with him this knowledge that is sought. Without any further ado then, please allow me this once in my lifetime opportunity to expose to you the true nature of this dark, demented realm we call Earth.

Whether you hardly break a sweat reading about it in the same, sopping wet newspaper your paperboy “somehow” managed to leave lying atop the running sprinkler in your front yard; or hear about it otherwise through either a friend, TV or the internet, finding proof of our place in the Devil’s domain should by no means be an arduous task. Certainly not, for, from whichever source previously mentioned you’ve gathered the appropriate information, proof of it all should be undoubtedly apparent in all the crime and countless lives that are lost each and every year. Above all, surely you to will realize and recognize that there exists no crime, no other malicious act of pure Evil that is more sinister, savage, sadistic and cruel than that of murder.

By this time next year, with the exception of war and terrorism, our diabolical world will have witnessed an estimated 520,000 people parish at the hands of a cold-blooded murderer. For anyone else, sadly, such a bone-chilling statistic is simply that - just a statistic. For someone like myself, however, such a grotesque statistic carries with it more significance than you could possibly ever imagine. How so? Because, unlike you, murder is something that I am most familiar with. Unlike any serial killer before or after my time however, it is only I who will be remembered as the best there’s ever been.

Before I allot you ample enough opportunity to draw any impulsive conclusions of your own on my behalf, know this: the real Andrew J. Jones would never take that precious thing we call life away from any living creature walking this Earth, even if it really is Hell that we live in. No, for in the right state of mind, the sane, clear headed Andrew J. Jones could never dream up such horrific thoughts of mindless murder on his own, let alone force his hands upon another being in such a horrid fashion…it’s just too bad that things, even being perfect as they are, have to go off and change.

For the past four year of my life, I, Andrew J. Jones, have no longer been in the right state of mind. Such that it is, I believe a change of things could do both myself and this world of ours some good. Thusly, I can think of no better time than the present in which to “spill the beans,” as it were. Alas, now is the time to pull back the deceptive mask that is upon my own face, and reveal to both you and the rest of the World my deepest, darkest, bloodiest secret of all. No longer will I keep it hidden from the rest of the World. No longer will I allow it to destroy me.

Buried in the depths of my still-beating heart It torments me so. There is nowhere I can go where It does not torment me so. Try as I may to fight the need to kill for as long as possible, sooner or later, even a strong-willed mind such as my own can no longer fight that unrelenting, insatiable hunger to kill again and again. You should therefore trust me when I say that it is truly Hell with which all our lives intertwine.

Surely by now you think of me as nothing more than some sick, twisted monster. Think of me what you will, for it bothers me not. In my own defense, however, that while I agree no serial killer deserves even the slightest bit of compassion for the atrocities they’ve committed, I don’t believe that every serial killer who’s mind has been afflicted by that of It, deserves to be labeled as an outright monster. After all, even on the inside of a “monster” such as myself, does not a heart also beat? Alas, I to have a heart that beats with both life and a soul. And albeit devoid of any good deeds here of late, it will always remain a heart nonetheless.

If you have half a brain, you would do well by taking heed in what I say. I know more than anyone else could possibly imagine that Hell is not a place of fiction. Nor is it a place that only exists in nightmares. In fact, not only is Hell a living, breathing reality, but Hell is also the one and only place we all currently call home. Suffice it to say then, that if home is indeed “where the heart is,” than you and I have already pulled up a chair, ate our dinner, brushed our teeth and went straight to bed, no doubt making ourselves feel right at home. Verily I say unto thee, Hell, is where the heart is.

Fret not, for there is more to come.
© Copyright 2008 Joseph Andrew Frischman (yngwriter2385 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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