September Speculative Fiction Prompt – I feel nothing

I kill her. It is easy enough. I use my brother’s cricket bat, bringing it right down on her head as hard as I can. I use both my hands in order to maximise the force of my blow. I’m not taking any chances that she might survive.

I watch her blue eyes, bulge and widen as she realises what is happening, then squeeze shut with pain and finally roll back into her head as she collapses. A fountain of blood sprays from the wound on her temple, splashing onto my tee-shirt and face. That is the worst part, the feel of that warm sticky liquid running down my face.

I raise the bat, dripping blood, and hit her again. This time the bat strikes her in the middle of her forehead. The skin splits open like a smashed tomato and gushes blood. It runs into her eyes, turning the sockets into dark pools. I look at her and I feel nothing for what I have done. She is dead, and it wasn’t difficult to kill her.

I know I have to get rid of the body and I’m prepared. I had hidden a spade and a change of clothes in my tree house the prior day. I retrieve the spade and walk a bit further into the wood. I had previously identified a good spot for the grave and I start digging. It is hard work. Sweat trickles down my face and splashes onto my bare forearms. It is slightly pinkish in colour.

Finally the hole is deep enough for the small body. I grab her feet, one in each hand, and drag her to the hole, tipping her into it like a bag of rubbish. I shovel earth over her white flesh and pale pink dress. Stripping off my blood stained tee-shirt, I chuck it into the hole. I stamp the earth down as I bury her so that as much as possible fits back into the hole, cradling her in its dark embrace.

I return the spade to my tree house and wend my way to the stream. Its water is cool and clear as I rinse the remaining dried blood from my face and arms. I even dunk my head and swirl my long, dark hair around to ensure any traces of blood are washed away. I squeeze my hair as dry as possible and slip on my fresh tee-shirt. It’s time to go home. I’ve got homework to do for school tomorrow.

This piece of fiction was written for Carol J Forrester’s September Speculative Fiction Prompt. You can join in here: https://caroljforrester.com/2019/09/01/september-speculative-fiction-prompt/

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65 thoughts on “September Speculative Fiction Prompt – I feel nothing

  1. Nicely written. You know when you’re reading a story and you are hoping for a twist that makes it’s justifiable or just a dream. The last line crushed those hopes, well done πŸ˜‰ I pity the teacher that gives her detention.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I read a book by a well-know American child psychiatrist, Jacquie. He said that when male children are abused and mistreated as children, new pathways are burned/formed in their brains and this, in turn, makes them violent and gives them sociopathic tendencies. Thanks for reading.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow you really got into this killers head. You nailed the descriptions. I could see it happening through the detached eyes. Well done and highly chilling.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I picture her spread across her bed, nibbling carrot sticks while reading over her history lesson, mother calling out, “Lights out, dear!” and thinking how lucky she was to have a daughter who spent nights at home, doing homework, and not running the streets like other wicked children…..

    Liked by 2 people

  4. There is something specific to be named about feeling no mores or morals in these types of horrid actions.
    And then they become adult serial killers…. Perhaps you should write some episodes for some of the crime shows new seasons! Very scary!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This piece was written in response to an idea I had about how kids who kill must think and feel. It is quite dark for me, but that is what came to me. There is some back story I have written to flesh this out that gives more insight into the killer’s mind and motivations.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Some scientists believe that some parts of the brain either have not developed or turn off. Motivation becomes secondary to what the killer believes as just surviving normally. My interpretation of TV psychobabble.

        Liked by 1 person

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