Mia Is Caught Part Three

Final part of this scene, again give me any opinion you've got.


His footsteps are heavy on the floor and shake Mia awake again, she feels less groggy than earlier; the dosage is wearing off. The man is putting the finishing touches to a white banner that stretches across the fireplace, which is now covered with a white satin sheet that must have cost a pretty penny or two. It almost looks as if he is going to put on a debate, with the podium in front of the sheet and the folding chairs set up in neat rows facing the whole set.
“Oh my,” he says through a smile, his white teeth gleaming in light of the room. “You’re almost awake. Better hurry up then, I don’t wanna spoil the surprise.” Mia’s world again starts to go black, but not before he begins to remove her blouse. By the time her pants are undone, she is unconscious once more.


You’re usually very meticulous and observant, but tonight you are a little off your game. Instead of checking your surroundings before heading inside, you simply ran on in and didn’t look to see the black van parked a block down the street. After cutting you off like that, it would seem pretty obvious that you would notice it again. Sadly, you were far too distracted with the hunt, which is certainly understandable; the hunt can be quite consuming. The guy tells you to help yourself to some wine while he freshens up in the bathroom, really he is just jerking off to prepare himself for the anticipation of sex. You know it wouldn’t get that far though; it’s not your style. You enjoy leading them to dream of your beautiful naked body writhing with theirs in fits of grinding and deep breathing, right before you cut their hearts out and show them the still beating organ pumping in your blood soaked hands. It’s only been watched once; you’re admittedly difficult to sneak up on in the middle of your work.
You’re sitting in the chair, waiting for him to exit the bathroom so you can commence the ritual. Sorry to spoil your plans, but there are other things afoot here. As he comes out and looks at you, I strike from the shadows. The toxins in the syringe are enough to kill a small horse, so plenty to drop a man to the floor. I hate that you come at me so violently because I am not here to hurt you as well. The needle I stuck into your throat only contains a strong sedative, which will give me enough time to set up the room like one of those cheap wedding halls. It’s not perfect, but the message is more important than its delivery.
Once you wake up, everything will be revealed to you: how everything you’ve done for the last six months has been carefully observed and noted, how your patterns and style were learned from those observations, so much that I could almost predict exactly how and where you would kill your victim, which interestingly enough, is how I found myself here. But I have been making plans on my own as well, timing and plotting to a point so that nothing could go wrong. Once you wake up, I will tell you all of this, and open my heart to you, Mia. Hopefully, after you know who I am, you will love me like I love you. Hopefully, you will accept my ring and join me in marriage. We will do wonderfully awful things together, you’ll see. Once you wake up, we can start our life together. Wake up, sleepy head.

Mia Is Caught Part Two

Second part of this scene, third one coming in the following days. Let me know what you think!


Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Mia brushes the rest of the lion droppings into the trash bag and dusts off her pants and shirt. The park is closing, and she couldn’t be any happier. It allows her to be free from the grinds of a job, free to do what she wants with who she wants. After changing out of her work clothes in the women’s locker room, Mia heads out to have a drink at King’s Grill, the restaurant and bar a few blocks from the San Diego Zoo. Fifteen minutes of driving through slightly congested Californian traffic and Mia walks up to the bar and takes a seat. At the other end having a drink with some work buddies is Brian Shanahan, wealthy father of two beautiful girls, resident of the wonderful city of San Diego for almost thirteen months. Previously, he lived, alone, in Phoenix and was charged with raping a fifteen-year-old girl. Yet, that’s not what brought Mia here tonight; she wasn’t interested in his crimes of passion. She is more intrigued by the hunt of tracking and killing the man, whoever she happens to choose.
Through the smoky haze thickening in the air, Mia observes him while he drinks his last night away. Although preferring the victim to be awake, she has come across her share of drunken slobbering assholes that create a different kind of enjoyment for her; they’re number to the blade. The way their eyes go from ecstasy to sheer terror in milliseconds really made Mia’s heart pump harder and blood flow faster. The dumbfounded look on their faces once they realize she has been plunging away at their vital areas, steadily draining away their life. Tonight, it is Mr. Shanahan’s night to experience just that. Researching and following led Mia to King’s, where he drinks with his friends every Thursday night after work. He is always out late those nights, so there will be no trouble from a worried wife before the job is done. On very frequent occasions, the married man would delve into the world of bar girl hook-ups, which will work to Mia’s advantage. After he finishes his second drink, she makes her way to the opposite end of the bar and heads him off at the bathroom. Exchanging flirtatious looks and smiles, they introduce themselves and decide to share a drink.


Her mind is swimming in circles, never stopping or allowing her to focus the thoughts. For a few brief moments, her eyes flutter open and she glimpses the scene in front of her before going unconscious again. His body is gone and there isn’t a trace of a struggle. Frozen in a pane of light, the man is stringing up some kind of poster and has moved the furniture away towards the walls. With the wife and children gone on vacation, the empty house was the perfect place for it. However, the tables have been turned on her and she is now the apparent victim.
“Just wait, you’ll love it,” the man says. “Once I’m done here, everything will be different. Your life will change completely!”


He tells her his house is empty, and they can go there to have some more private drinks. Mia convinces him to drive separately, as she needs her car in the morning for work. It was a nice excuse to cover her plan of not being a suspect in his inevitable murder investigation. Before driving over, Mia opens her trunk and checks to make sure all her supplies are there. Unzipping the duffel bag, she quickly scans its contents and finds her knives, rope, trash bags and other little trinkets she will use throughout the process. Satisfied she gets into the car and drives to his house, where her prize eagerly waits for her arrival. Sitting at a red light two blocks from his address, Mia stares ahead and smiles; finally the weight will be lifted off of her shoulders. The light turns green and she accelerates through the intersection, when a maniac cuts her off trying to turn in front of her SUV. Honking and cursing, Mia glares at the man behind the wheel, who reacts with a smile and wave and speeds off into the dark and turns down the street after Brian’s. Making note of his license plate number, Mia seems to have already found her next target. She shakes her head and moves on, turning down his street and into his garage, so as to mask her presence here tonight. A sweet smile swims across her silent and sultry face while she slips into his house.

Mia Is Caught Part One

One part of a piece I wrote...It's way too long to put up in once piece, so I'm going to do three parts of it over the next week or so. Let me know what you think of it.


Mia crosses her legs gently while sipping her wine, lips pressed lightly on the edge of the glass. Her light red lipstick leaves a small stain, a reminder of her presence here tonight; it will be dealt with afterwards. Her garishly great green eyes wandered the room, taking in everything before it was all a memory. Each photo on the wall is a piece of his life: posing with the parents at college graduation, staged vacation Kodak moment with the family, candid laughing shot with the wife. He oozes from the pictures, surrounding Mia with his stench which made her stomach turn.
He emerges from the bathroom, looking slightly nervous and nauseous. His black hair is messy, an attempt at appearing younger for his possibly middle-aged body. Standing at a few inches over six feet, he could sink into a crowd and melt away in nothing, never to be seen by anyone. Mia had been pondering him for quite some time, trying to decide his fate. A needle darts from the shadows and dives into his neck, the plunger depressed until the syringe was empty. His boyishly big brown eyes roll back into his head, and he drops to the floor, dead.
With her heart pounding, Mia shoots out of her chair and digs in her bag for the knife, whose intended victim is now lying dead on the floor. Before she can make a move, he closes in and disarms her. It falls to the rugged floor and he kicks it out of her reach. Reaching back to smack him, Mia throws all her weight in his direction, hoping to overthrow him. Dodging the punch, he unearths another syringe from his belt and pierces her throat, forcing the toxin into her blood stream. Instantly, Mia’s world begins to slow down and darken as she stumbles back into her seat. The man’s face slides in and out of focus, but she can make out a look of relief and almost glee; she has met her match.
“Hush now darling, soon it will all become clear,” he says, the room spinning behind him, forcing Mia’s eyes shut. “Won’t be long now, until you know the truth. Soon, it’ll all be over.”
Her mind goes black, and everything is quiet, peaceful. Mia drifts off into a dream world, her very memories being replayed in her subconscious.


Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Mia brushes the rest of the lion droppings into the trash bag and dusts off her pants and shirt. The park is closing, and she couldn’t be any happier. It allows her to be free from the grinds of a job, free to do what she wants with who she wants. After changing out of her work clothes in the women’s locker room, Mia heads out to have a drink at King’s Grill, the restaurant and bar a few blocks from the San Diego Zoo. Fifteen minutes of driving through slightly congested Californian traffic and Mia walks up to the bar and takes a seat. At the other end having a drink with some work buddies is Brian Shanahan, wealthy father of two beautiful girls, resident of the wonderful city of San Diego for almost thirteen months. Previously, he lived, alone, in Phoenix and was charged with raping a fifteen-year-old girl. Yet, that’s not what brought Mia here tonight; she wasn’t interested in his crimes of passion. She is more intrigued by the hunt of tracking and killing the man, whoever she happens to choose.
Through the smoky haze thickening in the air, Mia observes him while he drinks his last night away. Although preferring the victim to be awake, she has come across her share of drunken slobbering assholes that create a different kind of enjoyment for her; they’re number to the blade. The way their eyes go from ecstasy to sheer terror in milliseconds really made Mia’s heart pump harder and blood flow faster. The dumbfounded look on their faces once they realize she has been plunging away at their vital areas, steadily draining away their life. Tonight, it is Mr. Shanahan’s night to experience just that. Researching and following led Mia to King’s, where he drinks with his friends every Thursday night after work. He is always out late those nights, so there will be no trouble from a worried wife before the job is done. On very frequent occasions, the married man would delve into the world of bar girl hook-ups, which will work to Mia’s advantage. After he finishes his second drink, she makes her way to the opposite end of the bar and heads him off at the bathroom. Exchanging flirtatious looks and smiles, they introduce themselves and decide to share a drink.

Introduction

So readers are aware, I am not some psychotic serial killer who posts stories to vent his frustrations. I just tend to write typically violent and twisted stories, whatever crawls into my imagination. This piece is the introduction to my short story, which as of now is still untitled. It details the life of Mia, a female serial killer who slays rich, handsome men with troubled pasts that are buried beneath lots of red tape. The narrator has selections told through 1st person, as he is the victim she has searched for her entire life. More details will come out as I progress, so if you're interested keep checking back for more. Any questions, don't hesitate to ask.


Although seemingly having a normal sense of sanity projected by a faux persona, I am nothing of the sort. In a desperate attempt to feed an insatiable desire for deceit and destruction, and thusly trying in vain to hide my affliction behind a veil of lies, I roam the streets as if in search of an answer to my disease. Yet I remain incurable of a sickening eagerness to stare into the souls of the human shells that crowd around me at the street light; the beasts who cram up against me on the train to Park Street; the swine who dine on processed pig meat nightly before the game. How they can face their own revolting reflection each passing day vexes me to this very moment, as I gaze out into the daunting darkness of late night Boston. Taking a sip of red wine, I ease down into my chair and smile while replaying the day’s accomplishments in my head. Extraordinary to imagine I was an utterly different man, an utterly different person not so long ago.


Copyright 2009 Liam Feldstein

Murder Scene

Piece of work, one scene told from three different points of view: 1st, 3rd person limited, and 2nd person.

A woman is dead because of me, because of what I am. I bow my head in shame and regret. How could I let it get this bad? I remember watching her leave the office, hurrying over the taxi cab parked at the curb, speeding off down 42nd Avenue. Her red hair glistened in the sunlight and made my heart race, pounding in my chest like a caged animal waiting to be released. Although her skin was soft and mesmerizing, it was her eyes that truly drove me wild. Their cold, gray hue sent me reeling after her, where I found her exiting the cab at her apartment building, though I only could guess that at the time. It was no problem at all to get past the security, simply telling them I was her brother ready to deliver a birthday surprise. I tend to rely heavily on people’s ability to believe anything I say; I can be very convincing if necessary. After I was inside and satisfied, I find myself back at square one: wondering if it the hunger will ever end. Heaving a sigh I get up out of the chair and prepare the body for removal.

Detective Sandra Marquez strolls down the hallway with confidence, having newly acquired her detective shield after solving the murder of playboy Mark Harris, who was killed by his now imprisoned ex-girlfriend. Marquez was the only one not fooled by the girl’s crying act, and it paid off in full. Fresh on the case of a new murder, she is ready to do it again. Reaching the room, she turns in to examine the scene. The room is empty of a body, and blood, and any sign of violence or struggle. The only evidence of a murder is the eerie display on the bed in the master room. Neatly made and clean, it seems like the victim was an organized person. Sandra shakes her head, feeling as if it’s always the good ones who get it bad. On the pillows, a single photo is displayed, along with a letter written in red ink. Scanning over the letter, Marquez hands it off to her forensics investigator for examination, while she takes a look at the photo. A woman is shown bound and gagged, slightly bruised which brings beating to mind, and stabbed once in the chest. The forensics team calls her over, and gives back the letter with chilling news. The ink is blood, seemingly blood from the missing victim. What kind of a person does this?

You cannot continue these foolish attempts to deny your very own vain of existence. It is no mistake or curse that you are who you are; you have a gift. Each time, as your hands close around their throats, the blood pumps through your body and you’re intoxicated from the adrenaline. Blind from the drunken stupor, you plunge the knives into their hearts and feel their lives ebb away into darkness, consumed by your hunger. Yet, your shame is painful and unnecessary, because none of it is your fault. You had no choice about whom you could be, your path was laid out before you could pick which to take. But never should you shun the instincts you feel whenever the urge hits you. Accept your uniqueness and embrace it to the fullest. Your work tonight was impeccable; no one will understand the capacity of your actions. The job is never done, rest now.


Copyright 2009 Liam Feldstein

Mia Character Sketch

Little of my own writing for a story, just a sketch of the character I have created. Let me know what you think.

Another monotonous day at the Stop and Shop in Glasgow, Kentucky, and Mia’s blood begins to boil. A slight breeze trickling in through the automatic doors each time they open does little to suppress the frustration mounting within her. Everything that enters her field of vision seems to stir the pot thicker and thicker, taunting every aching itch and desire she holds in store for her next victim. Hours go by and Mia watches the crowd with impatience, almost pining for someone to just step forward and offer themselves for her needs. But to her, it all has to happen from choice; pure and unadulterated opinion, a victim she picks on her own. No simpleton can fulfill her will to destruct all she touches; the man must be breathtaking and heart-stoppingly handsome with only a slight dash of bad in him. All other applicants need not apply to the position she is looking to fill.
The moist sweat on her olive-toned skin could give one the idea she just finished being doused in a light mist right before she got to work. Her green eyes appear hazy as she daydreams and disappears into her imagination, only snapping back to reality when she is interrupted by a man approaching her register. He has on a blue Ralph Lauren polo shirt with white khakis and Nike tennis sneakers. Although the shirt is obtainable at any Salvation Army, the Gucci sunglasses tucked into the neck of his shirt’s collar screams money to Mia, and her interest sparks instantly at this discovery. Looks as if God has answered her plea for satisfaction, and Mia has made her choice. Smiling flirtatiously and batting her eyelashes, Mia asks, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked,” replies the man, grinning and flirting right back, “do you know any good places to eat around here? I’m here visiting some family but am looking to have a meal at a nice place tonight. Any suggestions?”
Mia sees her window of opportunity but hesitates. He fits the profile of her victims perfectly, but something is unappealing. His hair is over-gelled, far too slick and plastic to be done with care. The stubble covering his cheeks and chin is patchy, showing signs of previous acne scarring, probably from a teenage breakout that lasted just a bit too long. His teeth, stained yellow from both cigarette and coffee addictions, makes the hair on the back of Mia’s neck stand straight. A cold sweat breaks out on her forehead, dominating the flashes she usually feels in the midday heat.
Although some may deem her a monster, Mia believes in her own morals and follows her own code. This man, although giving off a great impression when he approached, has now ruined it all by opening his mouth and letting Mia crawl right in. She would love to stab him in the throat and watch the blood spray from the wound like a sputtering hose spewing hot water on a dry day in Kentucky. She would love to pry each one of the rotten teeth from his skull, in hope of removing them from her subconscious that plays a mental motion picture of this guy’s mouth opening and closing in speech. To dance around and slather herself in his blood like sunscreen would make her heart pound and make her feel more alive than any adrenaline junkie feels from skydiving or bungie jumping. But, he is too feeble and sad to waste her energy and time on.
Bored, Mia says, “Sure, try this place Martin’s over on Ford Avenue. Real good burgers and fries.”
Obviously crestfallen at her lack of interest, he offers a weak thanks and shuffles out of the store. He’ll never know how close he came to sheer torture and death; his ugly, disgusting mouth actually saved his life. Heaving a sigh of irritation and dissatisfaction, Mia once again returns to the lull of the Stop and Shop. The cool breeze feels good on her neck, as if reassuring her that someone will walk through the door soon who will be the perfect specimen. Patience is now the game, with Mia vying for victory.

Copyrighted 2009 Liam Feldstein

Art of War

There will be always be competition between the two art forms of writing and pictures, both sides providing a formidable foe to the other. While writers use words to provide an image to the reader, the picture taker uses their image to provide words to the viewer. Despite writers' uncanny ability to paint with words, I feel an image such as this does a better job by simply being itself: a beautiful sunrise/sunset. Although the likes of Chaucer and Shakespeare could implant this picture in your imagination with prose and poetry, wouldn't you rather see it for yourself and make your own interpretation of what you're viewing? The battle will wage on, with no side being the outright victor in this war of attrition. It will only sway back and forth from one to the other until the sands of time are spent and gone, with no one left to judge.

Special thanks to Linds for the picture!

Silly Movie Industry

Without fail, my friends and I always watch horribly made movies just to get a good laugh every once in a while. Tonight's choice was the prequel remake of the remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Pretty much combine the original with the remake, and you get this lovely piece of film to scoff at from your couch. People are tortured and slain with chainsaws and knives; it's fun stuff. Yet, even though it was the most laughable horror film I've seen since, say, Silent Hill, a light bulb went off in my brain. Forgive me if it has already happened, but why have I not heard of a porn movie spun off from this? I wholeheartedly believe it would be the most successful S&M flick to hit the market to date. For the title, I would shoot for something like "The Texas Cocksaw Massacre". All the dialogue would be filled with your cheesy cliche porn lines ("I've been a bad girl, maybe you should stick me and punish me big boy.") There are definitely people out there who would clamor to the stores for this, disgusting as it may be. In fact, I really could use some money, so maybe I'll pass the idea on to someone who can do something with it. Any suggestions?

The Train

Boarding the train and riding into the city, you come across a lot of interesting people. As the stops become more frequent and the riders become more prevalent, discrepancies in their actions and appearances are noticeable. No person is the same, everyone has a place they need to be or someone to meet. Each has a story, yet you will never know anything about them beyond where they may be headed. There's the woman answering her phone and talking to her father, maybe scheduling a dinner date for the night or the one after. The kid with suitcases who just got on could be coming back from vacation, or getting ready to embark on a journey. But as the train gets closer to the city, so many people get on you become lost in yourself. The overwhelming amount of bodies cramming into the car forces you to only consider your own thoughts and though you hate to admit it, you become selfish. No more worry is given to those around you, as you have your own problems to face once you get back home. Yet, if you stop and look around, you will notice just how similar everyone truly is now that the work day has ended. Exhausted and spent, all the people want is to eat and rest, if only just for a few minutes, to prepare for the next day, where maybe, just maybe, something new and interesting will happen. The doors open, people get off, the train moves on.