Rubies from Razors

It sits there, spewing rose red tears of pain that glisten in the darkness. Scarlet trickles from it's wounds to my ruby razor that I clutch loyally in my relaxed hand. It begs and sobs; my favorite part. The absolutely pathetic pleas are gut wrenchingly funny to witness. I almost get teary, I laugh so damn hard, but I manage to keep face and pretend to ponder my victim's feeble requests of life and freedom (as if there is any chance in hell of that happening). I manage to come up with an even more hilarious plot. I never cease to amaze myself at how good I am at thinking on the spot. "Alright," I speak slowly to my tattered guest, "I shall spare you out of the goodness of my heart." I observe a look come into it's eyes that I have never seen in my many years of this hobby. It is a concoction of joy, hope, and relief. To be honest, it makes me quite sick to look at, and I barely manage to swallow the urge to slam my razor into it's forehead, but I muster up what little self control I possess for the good of the game. Oh what a fun game I play, devilishly addicting, but fun nonetheless. I never feel more alive than when staring into the eyes of a corpse and knowing I am the cause of it's ultimate conclusion. What a dreadfully wonderful game.

by Bellatrix
posted on 08/13/2009