The Urge

Excerpt from the first chapter: Encounter

My name is Brian Blackdeath.

Of course it is not my real name. It’s a self -imposed pseudonym. What grew inside of me as a child I simply refer to it as the Urge. What the Urge really is, a story unto its self, hard to explain in just a few words. Many things in life are hard to explain, with any intelligence, in just a few words.

I go on walking expeditions, or ‘interviews’, looking for people. I help these people; I’m not your average serial killer that thinks it’s okay to kill without purpose.

I have a purpose.

As a matter of fact, I do not kill, I lay them to rest. It is what they desire. It is what they would like me to do for them. Release them from mediocrity, the mundaneness of their life.

I find people, through many different ways, in bars, on the street, restaurants, etc., anywhere there are people you are bound to find me.

I already have many, many stories to tell of those that have already been laid to rest. Eyes open hands laid across the chest. I remember them well; I feel they are happier now. I’ve done nothing wrong, at least that’s how I feel.

But, I digress.

What makes me kill is how I see killing. Killing isn’t a God complex. No. It shouldn’t be thought of as that. No one kills to make himself feel like the Almighty Creator.

I don’t kill for fun either. It’s only exhilarating when you out smart someone that’s trying to preserve themselves. It’s hard to kill an innocent begging and pleading to be spared. Although, there is a superiority rush, which makes you kill them anyway.

I kill because of the primal thing. It’s not fear or survival. It’s man’s basic primal urge to kill. It’s no different from seeing a good looking woman and wanting to fuck her.

I lay them to rest to satisfy my primal urge. I know I could suppress it, if I wanted or needed to. Many of us suppress it every day. Sometimes people slip, the news calls it road rage. But, even then, people suppress it and go on with life.

I like the feeling I get from a good kill. No different from the hunter when it captures its prey. Oh, the rush of smells and the jolt of adrenaline. Sometimes it makes you want to scream from sheer pleasure. But, it never fails, those feelings of humanity the somberness of guilt.