Bogleech.com's 2017 Horror Write-off:
Splitting The Body
Submitted by Nick
My friend has really been freaking me out lately. He suddenly started talking to me about doing all these disgusting and grotesque things to people. He told me about a person he is keeping in his basement and he wanted me to help him torture the person, I told him I couldn't because what kind of person would say yes to that? He constantly follows me everywhere I go, not doing anything, but just following. I just want to ditch him and get him away from me but who knows what he would do if I ran. He's an unpredictable psychopath, following me everywhere I go, like a ticking time bomb strapped to my chest.
It makes me so uncomfortable being around him, and I'm sure my old friends would agree, because once my new friend brought me into his crazy, terrifying life, they all left me. I can't help what he does and I can't believe other friends would leave me behind just because of a couple things he does. I wonder to myself why I don't ditch him either, but I don't even know myself. I'm probably the only friend he's got. If only he could tell me why he does the things he does, why he wishes the things he wishes, why he hurts the things he hurts. Maybe if I knew, I could help him, and I feel as if I know the answer, but he won't tell me. And like I said, he's unpredictable.
My friend and I were having a chat over a cup of coffee at our local café, a popular place for people to hang out during lunch break, or for kids who are just trying to act cool in front of others. In the middle of our conversation, he turns around then looks back at me. He gives me a look to cause suspicion, a look like I am supposed to know what is going to happen, and I do. I watch him as he pulls out the knife and walks up to a man in a black, fedora shaped hat. That poor man, clueless as to what is about to happen. I really want to stop my friend, I really do, but anything I try might just be futile, because he is in control now. I watch my friend scream with fury as he drives the knife into the man's head.
The man screams but right before the knife goes deeper in is when he stops moving and screaming. The knife is pushed in with such force that it breaks into his skull and pierces his brain. The sight was absolutely terrifying, at least a hundred, screaming people got up and ran out of the café, some of them stood there and pointed, some got out their phones to either call authorities, or just to moronically take a picture of the horrid display. Then there were some people screaming at me, like I took part in this, like I was the one who killed the man. I tried to tell them that I didn't do it, and that my friend did but nobody listened.
I ran out of the café bursting into tears with fear, ignoring where my friend went off to, if he's still in there. I ran out of the town plaza, out of the town, and into the forest and hid. I didn't want to be found, in case someone framed me for the murder and authorities are going out to search for me. I kept crying, asking myself what brought me to this moment, how I got suddenly stuck with this sociopathic killer with a serous lust for blood, torture and death. He says he's my friend but is he really, he just wants to make everyone's life, including mine, a disaster.
I can hear someone coming my way, it's about nighttime now but I hear a couple steps. I break into a sprint, running from whatever is now following me, the police or whatever it may be, but then I hear a familiar voice, its my friend. He compliments my idea of hiding in the woods and then tries to reassure me everything will be alright, even though they won't be. I begin to sob and fall to the semi-grassy dirt floor, I ask him why, why does he do these things. He refuses to give me an answer. I ask him that the police will eventually find us. We will be goners. I then notice that he's crying too. The man with no emotion, no empathy, no fear of death, is crying.
We both sob for longer than we should, we don't even wipe away the tears but we watch them fall to the ground behind our watery eyes. My friend tells me that now he has a plan, he has a way to get away from the police. Suddenly he pulls out the same, knife he used to kill the man with the black hat and begins to drive it into his chest, no longer crying, but laughing hysterically as he carves himself, driving the knife, still in his chest, all they way down to his stomach. In horror I try to run away but I can't, for I am also sliced open from my chest to my stomach, bleeding out as my mushy, entrails and organs soaked in blood struggle to scramble out of my body. I try to scream but the only sound that comes out of me is laughter. I am no longer in control of myself, for he has taken over. I fall to the ground and he does too, laughing until we both stop and ultimately die at the same exact time.
It makes me so uncomfortable being around him, and I'm sure my old friends would agree, because once my new friend brought me into his crazy, terrifying life, they all left me. I can't help what he does and I can't believe other friends would leave me behind just because of a couple things he does. I wonder to myself why I don't ditch him either, but I don't even know myself. I'm probably the only friend he's got. If only he could tell me why he does the things he does, why he wishes the things he wishes, why he hurts the things he hurts. Maybe if I knew, I could help him, and I feel as if I know the answer, but he won't tell me. And like I said, he's unpredictable.
My friend and I were having a chat over a cup of coffee at our local café, a popular place for people to hang out during lunch break, or for kids who are just trying to act cool in front of others. In the middle of our conversation, he turns around then looks back at me. He gives me a look to cause suspicion, a look like I am supposed to know what is going to happen, and I do. I watch him as he pulls out the knife and walks up to a man in a black, fedora shaped hat. That poor man, clueless as to what is about to happen. I really want to stop my friend, I really do, but anything I try might just be futile, because he is in control now. I watch my friend scream with fury as he drives the knife into the man's head.
The man screams but right before the knife goes deeper in is when he stops moving and screaming. The knife is pushed in with such force that it breaks into his skull and pierces his brain. The sight was absolutely terrifying, at least a hundred, screaming people got up and ran out of the café, some of them stood there and pointed, some got out their phones to either call authorities, or just to moronically take a picture of the horrid display. Then there were some people screaming at me, like I took part in this, like I was the one who killed the man. I tried to tell them that I didn't do it, and that my friend did but nobody listened.
I ran out of the café bursting into tears with fear, ignoring where my friend went off to, if he's still in there. I ran out of the town plaza, out of the town, and into the forest and hid. I didn't want to be found, in case someone framed me for the murder and authorities are going out to search for me. I kept crying, asking myself what brought me to this moment, how I got suddenly stuck with this sociopathic killer with a serous lust for blood, torture and death. He says he's my friend but is he really, he just wants to make everyone's life, including mine, a disaster.
I can hear someone coming my way, it's about nighttime now but I hear a couple steps. I break into a sprint, running from whatever is now following me, the police or whatever it may be, but then I hear a familiar voice, its my friend. He compliments my idea of hiding in the woods and then tries to reassure me everything will be alright, even though they won't be. I begin to sob and fall to the semi-grassy dirt floor, I ask him why, why does he do these things. He refuses to give me an answer. I ask him that the police will eventually find us. We will be goners. I then notice that he's crying too. The man with no emotion, no empathy, no fear of death, is crying.
We both sob for longer than we should, we don't even wipe away the tears but we watch them fall to the ground behind our watery eyes. My friend tells me that now he has a plan, he has a way to get away from the police. Suddenly he pulls out the same, knife he used to kill the man with the black hat and begins to drive it into his chest, no longer crying, but laughing hysterically as he carves himself, driving the knife, still in his chest, all they way down to his stomach. In horror I try to run away but I can't, for I am also sliced open from my chest to my stomach, bleeding out as my mushy, entrails and organs soaked in blood struggle to scramble out of my body. I try to scream but the only sound that comes out of me is laughter. I am no longer in control of myself, for he has taken over. I fall to the ground and he does too, laughing until we both stop and ultimately die at the same exact time.