*This was a rewrite I decided to do based off of an earlier story (read it here). I prefer this incarnation, I feel it emphasises the serial killer/collecter aspect a bit better.
Reader discretion is advised.
*Wordcount: 1159 words.
It all started with eyes. I mean, I don’t intend to come across as ‘creepy’, but eyes were my first inspiration. Even now, they are my favourite. They are such simple, overlooked things, but they have such beauty. You just need to take the time to look, and appreciate the intricacies. The threading of filaments, colourful arches of pigment that are so often dismissed as simple eye colouring.
Take the time, appreciate them, like I do.
After all, they are the windows to the soul.
I noticed their eyes first; all the people I’ve met: friends, family, loves. Their eyes caught my attention before anything else. Sometimes their eyes complimented their personalities or added a compelling factor to their appearance. Sometimes their eyes were their only redeeming features, people so foul that they didn’t deserve to have the beauty present in their eyes.
It was frustrating, to say the least. But it helped encourage me to act.
In truth, I doubt I could’ve stopped myself. I just had to start collecting.
You always remember your first, that’s what they say, and I couldn’t agree more.
She was a foul thing, in temper and form, but her eyes! Oh, her eyes!
Devine. Hardly fitting of the bumptious, uncouth wench that housed them.
I loved them. I hated her.
I had to free them.
I still remember, with no small amount of fondness, the way she screamed when I took them.
Of course, back then I was foolish. Rash. I admit, I lost those eyes. Destroyed in the harvesting process; a damn pity.
But you live and learn, they say. They also say that practice makes perfect, and by god I practiced.
I was careful, targeting the odd homeless when I could. I refined my methods, both of removal and storage. I built up quite the collection!
However, in time, my tastes evolved.
Eyes are the pinnacle, of course, but there is much to be said for variety, and I came to realise that humans are beautiful creatures. Well, the bodies more than anything. Often the minds are foul or ignorant, contemptuous little things desperately clinging to their human shell and overlooking their fairest features.
I came to dislike most people, but how could I not, I ask you?
Aside from liberating their human forms from the dead-weight of their minds, I did try to educate some of them. Especially those close to me. They didn’t understand.
I harvested them well though.
Do excuse my tangent; I am quite passionate on the subject. I believe I was speaking of variety.
Eyes are my favourite, that is true. But everything serves its part. Tongues, while not being the most appealing at a glance, do certainly serve an admirable purpose. Permitting speech, a vastly important function. They make a nice collection, and carry enough nuances to make each one different.
Ears, those are nice too. Quite fancy them myself, and they make a nice duo with the tongue. Organs of communication, you see.
Noses, fingers, and even some teeth for good measure.
I suppose that, for a brief time, I went a little overboard. Collected much, just to see if I could.
You could build a fully functional human from my collections.
Although that would be an unconscionable waste.
Storing lips is tricky, but if you can get it right it is most certainly rewarding.
Brains are big unwieldy things, and I admit I’m not a fan. The human body, the machinery that keeps us moving and operational, is admirable. Gorgeous, intricate and functional.
The brain, well, that houses our thoughts. Our personalities and opinions.
That alone taints them.
Internal organs, on the other hand, are wonderful collector’s pieces. Hearts, lungs, kidneys, livers, all of it interesting. They look great on display.
Oh my I do prattle on, don’t I?
Do excuse me; I have much I wish to tell this world and little time.
And, I suppose, bragging about one’s accomplishments is often unavoidable.
I’ve evaded capture thus far; I did have to go ‘on the run’ so to speak. I moved from place to place, meeting many varied and interesting people. Many varied and interesting collections were started, lost in transit or from me having to flee, and started again. I managed to keep some pieces with me for a long while, but I did eventually lose it all.
Collecting eventually became more fun than the collections themselves.
With time, however, everything loses its sheen. The spark faded, and in time I felt I had done it all. Each collected piece was beautiful and intricate, but fleeting. Without a stable collection to admire, even though collecting was fun, it started feeling futile.
Really, with a body count like mine I suppose I shouldn’t expect any different. I would mention said body count to you, but, well, the police still haven’t found quite everyone, and I’d hate to give it away.
Nevertheless, an idea struck me, and I worked to set it in motion.
A grand idea, and it took months. But I’m finally ready.
Are your bindings secure? Heh, I don’t suppose you’d tell me.
They say that most genius goes unappreciated in its time. Well, I refuse to let that apply to me too. This is my masterpiece, my hardest endeavour and my greatest work. A witness seems necessary.
I’ll begin shortly. I’m positively hopped up on painkillers, and I have IVs of concoctions of morphine, anti-coagulants, anti-inflammatories, and a number of other useful medicines.
Now, watch closely.
Watch a master at work.
My eyes were first. The pain, even through the haze of the painkillers, was excruciating. The lack of sight would also make the rest more challenging, but I believe I’ve mentioned my prior practice.
I set the jar on the steel table aside me, and got back to work.
The blood made everything slick, and I could feel myself making more than a few mistakes. Focus. I needed to focus.
It wasn’t perfect, and that itself was criminal. But… Well, the results aren’t terrible as far as I can tell. My ears, nose, lips, and teeth had joined the collection.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I couldn’t go on. My arms fell limply to my sides, hanging off the steel operating chair.
We all have our limits, and the drugs only pushed me so far. My natural adrenaline, as well as adrenaline from the IVs, did little at this point.
I did well enough, not that well in internal organs I’m afraid. Only one kidney.
Oh well, at least I got my eyes.
My life ebbed out of me, and I sighed.
I didn’t mind dying, that was the point actually.
I was shaking, out of fear or anticipation I could not say. I could feel the darkness closing in, the oppressive creeping of death. I would have wept if I could.
No matter, really; you see, I had lost my soul.