"On the edge right now, looking at the little folks 20 stories below, I realize my time is short, my life is measured in minutes, since security will make their way to the rooftop deck to respond to my trespass sooner or later. I've barred the outside door with a crowbar, so when they show up and breakthrough, off I go the quick way down.
Until that happens, I will speak to this tape, why the Hell not? This world will know my crimes after I'm long gone, as it should. This little recorder will stay here, I will not. There’s going to be one serious mess down there soon.
There should be a good reason given to those poor saps that will be cleaning up the utterly horrid mess that was once me. My motivations and torments would be laid bare for all to observe and hopefully understand. A story etched in blood and brains across the concrete. Both adding and expressing my message to whoever sees it and clearing up the mystery once and for all. They deserve at the very least a hint of why they are wiping blood and organs up, do they not?
Suicides are amazingly common in this world, so chances are I won’t make the local news, let alone national, or world stories. However, I will certainly be remembered by those who clean up my messes, both on the sidewalk below, as well as my past atrocities.
They may not mention my name on your local or national news, in refusal to glorify and spread word of my crimes, but I will certainly be mentioned inside the unveiling of the gory details of my deeds. How can they not do so? I’ve wiped out a lot of your kind down there over the years. Every last one was enjoyable for me, doubly true for the voice that haunts my ear, and all seemed necessary to me at the time.
But I don’t want to skip ahead. I don’t have infinite time, but I have a few moments at least before they burst through. Since I’ve barred the roof access, they will be forced to bust the steel hinges or cut their way through with a blowtorch before they enter my final living space. That buys me some time at least to keep talking and tell my strange tale. You’d call it madness, I’d call it my life. I’ll be a large red stain far below soon, so I’ll talk quickly, as I look back on what brought me here."
From "Nothing to Lose, Only Hell to Gain" By Me of course. Opinions welcome on feelings, emotions, scene, clarity, etc. No grammar criticism is needed, however. Does it impel you to keep reading by this point?
Until that happens, I will speak to this tape, why the Hell not? This world will know my crimes after I'm long gone, as it should. This little recorder will stay here, I will not. There’s going to be one serious mess down there soon.
There should be a good reason given to those poor saps that will be cleaning up the utterly horrid mess that was once me. My motivations and torments would be laid bare for all to observe and hopefully understand. A story etched in blood and brains across the concrete. Both adding and expressing my message to whoever sees it and clearing up the mystery once and for all. They deserve at the very least a hint of why they are wiping blood and organs up, do they not?
Suicides are amazingly common in this world, so chances are I won’t make the local news, let alone national, or world stories. However, I will certainly be remembered by those who clean up my messes, both on the sidewalk below, as well as my past atrocities.
They may not mention my name on your local or national news, in refusal to glorify and spread word of my crimes, but I will certainly be mentioned inside the unveiling of the gory details of my deeds. How can they not do so? I’ve wiped out a lot of your kind down there over the years. Every last one was enjoyable for me, doubly true for the voice that haunts my ear, and all seemed necessary to me at the time.
But I don’t want to skip ahead. I don’t have infinite time, but I have a few moments at least before they burst through. Since I’ve barred the roof access, they will be forced to bust the steel hinges or cut their way through with a blowtorch before they enter my final living space. That buys me some time at least to keep talking and tell my strange tale. You’d call it madness, I’d call it my life. I’ll be a large red stain far below soon, so I’ll talk quickly, as I look back on what brought me here."
From "Nothing to Lose, Only Hell to Gain" By Me of course. Opinions welcome on feelings, emotions, scene, clarity, etc. No grammar criticism is needed, however. Does it impel you to keep reading by this point?
