197: How to write, really good horror.

So I was born w/a double hernia that wasn’t found until 32, which made me a very mean little kid, meaner teen, and even meaner adult until it was properly diagnosed.  My ‘childhood’ doctor suggested I discontinue murdering those who I once chose to befriend, while instead channeling my energies into something much more productive and meaningful (such as creative writing).   I instantly weighed out the pros and cons of changing my daily ‘feeding’ habits upon my latest and even such potentially similar future victims, and it didn’t take long to see things his way.   So, the next morning in the schoolyard.. I walked up to the very first true ‘survivor’ (among recorded history) I could ever possibly recall, I would allow myself (somehow, someway..), not to knock unconscious then kidnap, kill by starvation or poisoning, or allow to bleed to death (by various already well practiced proven effective methods, both slowly and quickly at different times), and held up a few sheets of paper (before him) upon which I had typed my very first story among the genre of ‘horror’..What’s this?, he asked..

I just killed you, last night I mean..

Oh?..I don’t believe I care to read it then.

Don’t you want to know how I chose to kill you?..Hang onto it and give it back to me at the end of the day.  I want to see what you really truly thought about it..

Hmm, okay then..if I don’t see you here after school then I’ll return it tomorrow sometime.  But no promises about today.

Well..I didn’t see him again until about a little less than a week later as he informed me he had somehow lost the story, but had actually had a chance to read (and re-read it a few times) before misplacing it.   Wanted to know if I would ever consider actually doing those things to his ‘character’ in real life.

Replied I was thinking about possibly reconsidering, since we hadn’t actually seen each other for about an entire week (and had enjoyed every unexpected moment of not having to see him once again, during/throughout the entire course among the meantime).

Next morning, around the same time/place among the school grounds I expected to find him..proudly produced another couple of pieces of typed upon paper.

What’s this?  He asked..

I brought you back to life…

You did?  Why?..

So I could kill you all over again…

The End (or is it?.. ; )