Strange and beautiful, familiar and hideous. There are things that people see, some see what others don't. But most people will only see what they can with their own two eyes and nothing more. There are those who would say that of him. She knew different though, she knew that there was something that started the madness. There's always a spark. And that made her wonder just had happened to him. Did you see him? What a poor ugly boy?
Haha look at the anteater man!
The hatred and fear in people's voice as they looked at his apperance. What a small mind people have and such a large vocabulary of hate. Not that anyone one of us could say that we might not take a second look and wonder why this poor boy was born the way he was. We are a vain race. Baised to the things that are beautiful and not understanding of those that aren't. But what is easy and right is always different. And what one says and one does is two different things too. So it is no wonder that the boy was ridiculed the way he was. Girls judging him on his apperance and boys ostricizing him for the girls taunts.
It's no wonder you've never brought a girl home! You're an ugly, ugly boy! I wish you were never my son! You've cursed my womb!
An unloving mother can build up so much hate. Hate women. Hate them. The wounding words of his mother's disgust for him, cut like a knife. Bleeding his heart, until the blood pours out of his cracked open chest. Staining the ground and leaving a mark that can never be washed away. It chokes out any decency, until the dark person within us all, surfaces to combat the feelings of lonliness that are trying so hard to be locked away. But feelings can never be locked away and always come to light and manifested in some manner or other. And when it is fear and hatred at the root of the soul, then what comes forth is like the rotting intestines of hell. They spill forth, reeking of death and destruction. With no regard for anything or anyone. Like the devil's fingers are digging into his brain until there is nothing but evil. Dark, twisted thoughts that plague his brain, with nowhere to disperse them, until they spill forth in an action that is whispered in his ear by Lucifer himself. A personality that would have probably been devoid had people looked past what their eyes saw.
Can you believe that? He actually thought that I would go out with him? The anteater man! I told him yes just to see what he would say. And when he smiled, his gross, crocked teeth stuck out like a beaver. He's so gross! I can wait to humiliate him when we get to the dance. The little anteater man!
How twisted we as humans can be. Uncaring of the feelings of others. Basing what they might be feeling based on what they look like. And there is the spark. The final straw. The end of all. Inspiring him. He can remember it so perfectly. As he waited outside, watching and listening. Watching the drunken wench stumble to her car. Waiting silently in the shadows, as she neared.
Waiting silently. She dropped her keys several times as she attempted to unlock the door to her car. Upon finally completing the task, she opened the door and got in the car. But she never took a breath inside the car, as a hand covered her mouth, and she felt a cold sharpness run from ear to ear. As she looked down she watched her beautiful prom dress go from white to scarlet red. Her head fell forward hitting the steering wheel. Her eyes hurt as she watched her blood soak her dress and seat.
He got out of the car and open the driver's door and pushed her head back against the seat. He smiled at his handy work. She stared back up, as the last of her life leaked out of her. She thought that maybe that wasn't the nicest thing she could have done. But now it was to late. Now she had to pay for her sins.
I like your pretty smile, you drunken wench! Now you will smile all the time.
It was a feeling like no other. Something that could be said as sexual, but not. Just a feeling of satisfaction so intense, like a mental orgasm. There is a downside to the first high. It can never be achieved again. There will never be another "first". She took his virginity, and now no woman will ever do to him, what she did to him. Hatred festers. Now she can not judge him. She cannot turn away in disgust. He remembers standing there as she "smiled" at him, until her eyes fell and she slept for all eternity. But others must learn. They must learn from her mistake, otherwise others might have to be punished for their hatred.
The next day she was found at the steps of the school, tired in a crusifix across the entrance. And to this day, all know what happened, in this small, small little town. They know the devil is working inside the boy. They know. What they sadly still do not realize is they were the instrument the devil used to reach inside this young boy and mold him into the man that he is today. And they call him a mencace to society.
Strange isn't it . . .
May U Live 2 See The Dawn
Note: Hate does fester. Many times it never ends in a tragedy such as this. But it can creep in on a person, and manifist itself. It can come out as anything from racial slurs to abuse. But no matter, it is easy to get caught in, and easy to embrace. Gaurd your mind and heart because hatred is everywhere. Murder and abuse to women happen everyday and many of them go unanswered. Take no confidence in the fiction that I write. It is fiction. And at this point in writing this story, I beileve that it would be somewhat ludirious to say that I have no hatred for women or condone abuse. Take it as it is, a stroy. And I hope that the fearful things that I have written today, bear no judgement on what you think of me. I am me, and sometimes my mind isn't always roses. This may be the end, as this story is progressing into something that even scares me. I must think about this, as I don't want to start what must be finished . . .
