Story Page, 14
        The car's back door opened, and a hand reached in, roughly grabbing the sedated boy. He was vaguely aware of being pulled along a gravel path to a small white house, the sun burned a hole in the sky, the boy glanced at the brilliance. Up two wooden steps, into the kitchen, the boy was pushed and he fell. A rough grab at his elbows jostled him up. Into the living room, there was a fireplace, through a door in the hall, and down a small staircase, though the wreckroom, and into another smaller room, there was a table in the middle of the small interior, lit by a incandescent bulb. He was groggily aware of being tied. He wanted to ask questions, Where am I ? a sock was stuffed into his mouth, he wanted to gag, he felt a sharp slap across his face, It stung, he cried as his mouth was taped. The light went out, as the killer left the room. It must have been several hours later when the killer with another man and a woman entered the room. Maybe they would help him, His Mom and Dad must be aware that he is gone by now, although he really had no idea how much time had passed.
       He still couldn't move, his hands were behind his back, tied at the wrist, his arm he was lying on had fallen asleep. The drugs had worn off and the boy was acutely aware of his surroundings. One of the men seemed to be in charge, the other two stood quietly. The killer said, as if to no one in particular, Let's get started. The boy felt his belt being undone quickly, his shoes were ripped off, and his socks, then his pant's were yanked down, the boy tried to kick, his legs were harshly grabbed, Ohh yes, a lively one, the killer said, the boy was punched hard in the stomach, he wanted to throw up, he had a hard time breathing, he soiled his pants. You little sh*t I ought to make you eat it, maybe I will, these were the first words the killer said to the boy. Get rid of his underpants, and clean up this sh*t, the second man jumped up from his chair, he had a set of rubber gloves, and a bucket with rags. The boy was hyperventilating as the second man took a butcher knife, and slit the soiled underwear, which opened up like a diaper. The man used a rag to wipe the kid's butt. Let's see what we have here, said the killer, two rough fingers pinched his penis, the boy tried to cry out again. Look at that, another mutilated one, Jeez you'd think someone would leave these kids alone, both laughed. The  men roughly fondled the boy as the lady came over, Oh jeez she said, he looks like fu*kn jew. Her voice was harsh and strained. Turn him over, the first man said. The boy was yanked over, on his belly. One man spread the boys legs, the other walked around the table, and dropped his drawers in front of the boy's face. The boy wanted to pass our, he wanted to be away. He heard his father calling for him, an object blocked the light, a sharp pain ripped at him, something was being shoved deep into him, he yelped. A long while later, after the three finished, The woman picked up the shower curtains she had brought down. Both men spread them on the table under the boy, and on the floor around the table. the killer told the two to leave, as they climbed the staircase, the killer picked up the butcher knife.
          The killer knew where to cut, how deep, and what to twist. The boy would live eighteen minutes under his knife. His blood would run out, his body would spasm and jerk as nerve and sinew were sliced. By the mercy of the maker, consciousness would not last long. The pieces of flesh would be hacked and collected in several plastic bags. The remains would be buried, in several locations out by the desolate patch near the old highway. A world shattered, perplexed grieving parents and family, and clueless police. A murder marked unsolved.

          And so you may think the story is over. Perhaps in this imperfect world it was, but the Maker neither slumbers nor sleeps. And justice would be done.

      The killer was killed, shot several years later, by the lady friend, in a fit of jealous rage. In his life he was responsible for the torture and mutilation of seven boys, and three girls, aged eight to seventeen.
        The Dark figures jostled his spirit body before the King. His verdict was pronounced. " You will be taken to the City of Seadom to await your fate. It is not for us to tell you how long you will live there, but life will seem normal until the days of your pain. You will forget you died, but you will die again. For all your victims will visit you, and inflict upon you the most horrible of agonies. As you did to them, so shall they do unto you. After each death, you will be recreated for the next of your victims. You may die once, or you may die several times at the hands of each of your murdered. That is up to them. Each physical sensation will be as real as your experiences when you lived. You showed no mercy and compassion, you were aware of your acts, so no mercy or compassion will be dealt you." The killer replied, This is a bunch of Sh*t.
       The killer lay panting on the bed, two beautiful chicks had been servicing him all night. The view of the city, from his penthouse window was awesome. One stood by the open blind, as sunrise  painted stripes over her breasts, The sun was coming up as she lit a cigarette, the second dark haired one, was in the kitchen putting up coffee. She dumped the grounds into trash and rinsed her hands, then she turned on the radio. The urgent voice of the news caster was saying something half garbled, A giant figure, over a thousand feet tall was  heading up the river, never seen anything like it, hundreds were fleeing, military forces were called out, sketchy details at the moment, the Giant was sixty miles away, but heading directly up river in the direction of the City. Pictures would be broadcast shortly. "Will you change that crap, get some music on" The blond switched the station, but the news was the same on all channels. The killer jumped out of bed, What the hell is going on? He asked.


                                                                                               
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