The Mustang
It was a damp October day, a light rain had just fallen as I was driving my mustang down, old farm road. About half way down the road, pull over, get out and calmly light a cigarette and sit on the hood. As I take another long hard drag off of my cigarette, and look towards the sunset and am amazed how the golden paint of my 67'stang melds with the beauty of the sunset. Suddenly a flash of light, my mind races, who could be coming down this rural road. No one had business on this road, but me. As I look towards the light, I see that my mind must be playing tricks on me. I try to relax and take another drag.
Got to relax.
Have to relax.
You know what you came here to do.
I slide into the front seat, close my eyes and take a long hard breath, my chest feels tight, but it will all be over soon. Soon... as soon as I get this damn car started. I twist the key and the engine turns over sputters and dies, my gut sinks. I twist again and step on the accelerator, the engine roars to life and my excitement mounts.
Faster.
Faster still.
Push this old car to the limit.
The faster you get there, the faster it will be over.
I pull over to the side yet again, this time I wasn’t getting back in. I began my walk, lighting another cigarette. I hate these things, as the harsh smoke fills my lungs. As I exhale, a breeze picks up and carries my smoke into eternity. I take my last drag and toss the butt onto the gravel. My gut churning, I know what I have to do.
No way around it.
The cabin comes into sight. The lone structure sits atop 4 cider blocks, and is sloping on one side. I stop, only to un-sheath my hunting knife and run my thumb across the freshly sharpened blade. Good, the cuts will be quick and clean.
Quietly
Don’t let them hear a sound.
I approach the door, it is slightly askew. I peer through the crack, and I see him. He is asleep on a moth eaten couch. I move my hand to open the door, ever so slowly don’t let it squeak. My worst fear, he turns over. He sees his door is askew.
Do or die.
As he reaches for the door knob, I slice for what I think is his outreached arm. I miss! But my blow lands right through his shin. He falls to the floor screaming, I quickly knock him out with a blow to the head. I want him alive.
Tourniquet the leg so the bastard doesn’t bleed to death.
Better gag him so he doesn’t scream either.
I shove one of his filthy socks in his mouth. Then I pull my sharpening stone from my back pocket and slide the blade up and down. He was still unconscious but for how long? I look around the sparsely furnished shack and find exactly what I needed. I tied him up with a good strong knot so he wouldn’t be able to move.
How to go about this?
Better start from the top.
Using the knife I cut off his gruby clothes and toss them into a pile in the corner. The knife slide easily under his bare flesh. Strip by strip I peel back his skin. Just as I start his left leg, he becomes conscious and begins to struggle against his bindings.
Good strong knots.
He won’t move much.
I finish, he has been reduced to a red blob. Next to him lays a pile of skin. He wants to die, and if he deserved to die I would kill him. No, no I think I will stay and watch. I take a seat on the couch and cooly light another cigarette.
Got to relax.
Have to relax.
You know what you came here to do.
I slide into the front seat, close my eyes and take a long hard breath, my chest feels tight, but it will all be over soon. Soon... as soon as I get this damn car started. I twist the key and the engine turns over sputters and dies, my gut sinks. I twist again and step on the accelerator, the engine roars to life and my excitement mounts.
Faster.
Faster still.
Push this old car to the limit.
The faster you get there, the faster it will be over.
I pull over to the side yet again, this time I wasn’t getting back in. I began my walk, lighting another cigarette. I hate these things, as the harsh smoke fills my lungs. As I exhale, a breeze picks up and carries my smoke into eternity. I take my last drag and toss the butt onto the gravel. My gut churning, I know what I have to do.
No way around it.
The cabin comes into sight. The lone structure sits atop 4 cider blocks, and is sloping on one side. I stop, only to un-sheath my hunting knife and run my thumb across the freshly sharpened blade. Good, the cuts will be quick and clean.
Quietly
Don’t let them hear a sound.
I approach the door, it is slightly askew. I peer through the crack, and I see him. He is asleep on a moth eaten couch. I move my hand to open the door, ever so slowly don’t let it squeak. My worst fear, he turns over. He sees his door is askew.
Do or die.
As he reaches for the door knob, I slice for what I think is his outreached arm. I miss! But my blow lands right through his shin. He falls to the floor screaming, I quickly knock him out with a blow to the head. I want him alive.
Tourniquet the leg so the bastard doesn’t bleed to death.
Better gag him so he doesn’t scream either.
I shove one of his filthy socks in his mouth. Then I pull my sharpening stone from my back pocket and slide the blade up and down. He was still unconscious but for how long? I look around the sparsely furnished shack and find exactly what I needed. I tied him up with a good strong knot so he wouldn’t be able to move.
How to go about this?
Better start from the top.
Using the knife I cut off his gruby clothes and toss them into a pile in the corner. The knife slide easily under his bare flesh. Strip by strip I peel back his skin. Just as I start his left leg, he becomes conscious and begins to struggle against his bindings.
Good strong knots.
He won’t move much.
I finish, he has been reduced to a red blob. Next to him lays a pile of skin. He wants to die, and if he deserved to die I would kill him. No, no I think I will stay and watch. I take a seat on the couch and cooly light another cigarette.