I'm finding it surprisingly hard to commit to this as a concept, probably because I'm so unused to having anyone to share my thoughts with, even digitally and anonymously, that I rarely get the urge to write. I've touched on detachment before, but I at least have a current example, as two weeks ago I finally overcame my "dry spell", as it were, and secured a target.
I had to take the easier but less fulfilling route of randomness - needs must. I live in the south east of the UK, so one night I simply changed my plates (easily knocked up yourself with the right equipment) drove a hundred or so miles northwards, found someone walking alone in the early hours, dragged them into a side street and smashed their head in. Messy, but I was so pent up by that stage that really didn't bother me all that much. Regardless, easily solved by wearing a balaclava and taking spare clothes. Change in the alley, bag up the old clothes, and drive back, of course being sure to follow all the speed limits - while a cursory check made sure there was no obvious splatter on me, it would do to be pulled over for some minor reason and discover something I'd missed.
I'm not particularly ashamed to admit that television has provided me with a few pointers on avoiding detection, although basic common sense plays a larger part. In this case the weapon happened to be a pipe that was in the street, but regardless of the source, I always take it with me. Likewise the clothes - I don't wear anything valuable or cherished, and burn them as soon as possible on my return. Why anyone would choose to keep clothes used in a crime is beyond me. Ensure they're fully destroyed, and scatter the ashes, or simply bag them up and deposit them at the local tip. I of course dump the weapon too, which I've never handled ungloved.
I realise I'm detailing mundane details rather than the emotional aspect, which was my initial thinking - how easy it is to get distracted. I feel remarkably little emotion when dispatching someone. I'm of course aware at the time that they're likely to have friends or family, and over the past two weeks there have been the usual press conferences from them, pleading for information. I just find it impossible to relate their...pain, I suppose, to any sense of reality. I feel they're overreacting, which is an attitude I realise is "wrong" by society's standards, but just because they're loud doesn't make them right.
Awful things happen every day, all over the world, so why these people believe "justice" (a word that's been bandied around a lot in relation to this case) will actually help anything, I don't know. It's been so long since my last attack there's nothing obvious to tie it to previous examples of my work, which is faintly disappointing - always nice to be recognised.
Anyway, my bloodlust sated for the immediate future, I may take the time to actually choose a target carefully now, which is always more satisfying. I'll also endeavour to post my progress here...
I had to take the easier but less fulfilling route of randomness - needs must. I live in the south east of the UK, so one night I simply changed my plates (easily knocked up yourself with the right equipment) drove a hundred or so miles northwards, found someone walking alone in the early hours, dragged them into a side street and smashed their head in. Messy, but I was so pent up by that stage that really didn't bother me all that much. Regardless, easily solved by wearing a balaclava and taking spare clothes. Change in the alley, bag up the old clothes, and drive back, of course being sure to follow all the speed limits - while a cursory check made sure there was no obvious splatter on me, it would do to be pulled over for some minor reason and discover something I'd missed.
I'm not particularly ashamed to admit that television has provided me with a few pointers on avoiding detection, although basic common sense plays a larger part. In this case the weapon happened to be a pipe that was in the street, but regardless of the source, I always take it with me. Likewise the clothes - I don't wear anything valuable or cherished, and burn them as soon as possible on my return. Why anyone would choose to keep clothes used in a crime is beyond me. Ensure they're fully destroyed, and scatter the ashes, or simply bag them up and deposit them at the local tip. I of course dump the weapon too, which I've never handled ungloved.
I realise I'm detailing mundane details rather than the emotional aspect, which was my initial thinking - how easy it is to get distracted. I feel remarkably little emotion when dispatching someone. I'm of course aware at the time that they're likely to have friends or family, and over the past two weeks there have been the usual press conferences from them, pleading for information. I just find it impossible to relate their...pain, I suppose, to any sense of reality. I feel they're overreacting, which is an attitude I realise is "wrong" by society's standards, but just because they're loud doesn't make them right.
Awful things happen every day, all over the world, so why these people believe "justice" (a word that's been bandied around a lot in relation to this case) will actually help anything, I don't know. It's been so long since my last attack there's nothing obvious to tie it to previous examples of my work, which is faintly disappointing - always nice to be recognised.
Anyway, my bloodlust sated for the immediate future, I may take the time to actually choose a target carefully now, which is always more satisfying. I'll also endeavour to post my progress here...
My activities have been put on hold of late due to a minor injury. However, this has had the benefit that 3 weeks of "time off" of sorts has given me time to grow a beard, which while not done every time, does have its uses. The primary reason is that despite faith in my own planning abilities, it's never possible to completely eliminate the prospect of witnesses. As such, having an appearance different to my normal look, in the short term at least, enables a layer of extra protection. Once the deed is done, shaving the beard lessens the impact of anyone who might provide a description. While I have friends and colleagues who'd of course notice the change in appearance, given I only choose victims with no direct link to me, there's no reason for them to make a connection.
The downside of my time off means my urge to find another target has only been building. I may soon need to decide whether to continue the hunt locally and do the job properly, with my preferred level of tracking, or else venture far afield for a random.
This is something that has always faintly perplexed me. In a world with a reasonable number of killers, the number of random murders always seems disproportionately low. Of course I could well be projecting my own somewhat distorted sense of reality onto the wider world, but I don't believe I am. Then again of course, I wouldn't. My point is that it's incredibly simple to get in the car of an evening in new clothes, drive to a moderately distant town, stroll around somewhere relatively deserted, slit someone's throat, bag them up, leave them in a dumpster, ditch the clothes and weapon on the way home, and no-one's any the wiser. That's far less satisfying than a proper hunt, but still passable.
But I digress. I hope it won't come to that this time - I'll hold off as best I can. There are one or two persons of interest I've noticed of late, but I don't want to go into detail until they...ripen.
The downside of my time off means my urge to find another target has only been building. I may soon need to decide whether to continue the hunt locally and do the job properly, with my preferred level of tracking, or else venture far afield for a random.
This is something that has always faintly perplexed me. In a world with a reasonable number of killers, the number of random murders always seems disproportionately low. Of course I could well be projecting my own somewhat distorted sense of reality onto the wider world, but I don't believe I am. Then again of course, I wouldn't. My point is that it's incredibly simple to get in the car of an evening in new clothes, drive to a moderately distant town, stroll around somewhere relatively deserted, slit someone's throat, bag them up, leave them in a dumpster, ditch the clothes and weapon on the way home, and no-one's any the wiser. That's far less satisfying than a proper hunt, but still passable.
But I digress. I hope it won't come to that this time - I'll hold off as best I can. There are one or two persons of interest I've noticed of late, but I don't want to go into detail until they...ripen.
Acting's a hard thing to do believably, as watching any low-budget effort will teach you. While I like to think I have at least a degree more connection to humanity than some others, I still find it hard to feel, or express, a...conventional range of emotions. I suppose I could pretend, and fill in my emotional blanks with an act, but I fail to see the point. Primarily that's because I don't trust my acting ability enough to be believable at a time when it matters. If I'm known for being emotionally detached, if ever I'm questioned in relation to anything untoward, my lack of reaction is unlikely to be seen as anything unusual, for me at least.
I like to think this plants me nicely in the centre of two types - the psychopath who has so little concern about the social ramifications of his behaviour, making him that much more catchable, and the psychopath who is aware enough of his mindset that he puts up a front, but if ever that slips, he'll be under far more suspicion.
I'm using the term psychopath, but I genuinely don't believe I am one. I just happen to enjoy killing people. Not through any sense of justice, vengeance, sexual thrill, or need for control...then again that last one definitely does feature on occasion, although I'd imagine we all want to control various aspects of our lives, and as my life involves a degree of death, it's only natural to exert control to a degree.#
I'm rambling slightly. It's late at night and I'm amusing myself with television, which is what set me thinking about acting. No target as yet, but patience is always rewarded.
I like to think this plants me nicely in the centre of two types - the psychopath who has so little concern about the social ramifications of his behaviour, making him that much more catchable, and the psychopath who is aware enough of his mindset that he puts up a front, but if ever that slips, he'll be under far more suspicion.
I'm using the term psychopath, but I genuinely don't believe I am one. I just happen to enjoy killing people. Not through any sense of justice, vengeance, sexual thrill, or need for control...then again that last one definitely does feature on occasion, although I'd imagine we all want to control various aspects of our lives, and as my life involves a degree of death, it's only natural to exert control to a degree.#
I'm rambling slightly. It's late at night and I'm amusing myself with television, which is what set me thinking about acting. No target as yet, but patience is always rewarded.
I don't kill often, by most standards. I realise that might sound slightly incongruous, given that the vast majority of the population don't kill at all, but within the realms of my own...company, shall we say, I'm far more restrained than some. On a related note, I have no time for those people who share my hobby, but then profess to have no self control, or who claim it was a cry for help. I'm fully aware of my actions, and rush into nothing, otherwise I'd almost certainly not still be free to practise.
However, while I have no great desire for publicity for obvious reasons, I occasionally find myself slightly bothered by the fact that there's no-one to share my actions with. I have friends and colleagues of course, but no-one who I trust enough to know the darker truth of me. Hence starting this blog. It's routed through enough dummy servers that it can't be traced, and the only real risk is that it might get shut down, but as there's no way to avoid that I won't let that possibility trouble me. I don't even know if anyone will actually find or read this, but in an odd way that's secondary to me knowing that it's available, even if no living soul actually takes my words on board.
I can't promise a constant flood of plotting and gore - at the moment I don't even have my next target determined - but the gradual unfolding of my sometimes unusual life and occasional tangental thoughts may prove entertaining for some.
However, while I have no great desire for publicity for obvious reasons, I occasionally find myself slightly bothered by the fact that there's no-one to share my actions with. I have friends and colleagues of course, but no-one who I trust enough to know the darker truth of me. Hence starting this blog. It's routed through enough dummy servers that it can't be traced, and the only real risk is that it might get shut down, but as there's no way to avoid that I won't let that possibility trouble me. I don't even know if anyone will actually find or read this, but in an odd way that's secondary to me knowing that it's available, even if no living soul actually takes my words on board.
I can't promise a constant flood of plotting and gore - at the moment I don't even have my next target determined - but the gradual unfolding of my sometimes unusual life and occasional tangental thoughts may prove entertaining for some.
