Post by madddogg on Jan 30, 2010 19:50:08 GMT -5
“Once the person realizes he is something different, something more…or everyone else something less, acceleration is inevitable. “
With a toss, the carcass of the squirrel joins a host of discarded animals behind the rose bushes. The light has finally gone out in the one eye it still has. A permanent scream etched into its face by the final touches of death. For now, it is out of place, fresh and new. But soon time, the elements, and maybe some scavengers will make it look like the others. Some little more than bones, others in advanced stages of decay, and one or two relatively fresh kills. A squirrel or two, bird bones, pieces of a neighborhood stray cat. The collection has grown nicely. The remains show increasing cruelty with more and more crushed bones, separated parts. A detached head lying on top of the body it used to be connected to.
“Power is no longer something one has. Power is something one is. No longer a part of someone, or something they posses. Power is who they are. What they are.”
It’s taking more and more to feel that first rush anymore. First, with each passing year, than each passing month, and now, virtually with each and every kill, it takes more and more cruelty to get the same enjoyment as with the last kill. Either that or he must accept that he won’t get a full rush anymore. Diminished returns on increased investment. And that just isn’t acceptable.
“Much like the old phrase, ‘might makes right’, this acknowledgement of power opens new doors. Old societal mores no longer matter. That’s for the lesser beings. Not for ‘you’.”
A scowl comes over his face as the acknowledgement of his predicament hits. Satisfaction may be more elusive from here on out. The animals just aren’t cutting it anymore. It’s all been done. The expressions are just variations of a theme. Old news, old hat. Same death, different day. He doesn’t even bury them anymore. Let someone find out. Who cares? Even stopping using the blade and just going to his bare hands provided only temporary thrills. Walking back around the house, he barely even notices the cat starting to sniff at the squirrel. The small twinge at the base of his spine doesn’t even peak his interest. But when he gets around to the front, something else does catch his attention. The little boy wandering around the street aimlessly. Tears in his eyes. Dangerously close to opening the flood gates of emotion. Dirty smudges on his clothes. Looking wildly back and forth and mewing pathetically for ‘Ma’.
“This is a slow realization. The initial realization hits like a wave. ‘You’re different.’ But the implications come in a tiny drip, slowly like a morphine IV. The full realization sometimes taking a decade or more to manifest.”
The scowl disappears, and he puts the friendly mask back on. Big goofy smile. Friendly eyes. Softness in the voice. Perhaps an older person might see through the façade, but not a child. “What’s wrong buddy? You can’t find your mama?” The head shakes violently. “Does anyone know you’re out here?” Again, shaking. “Come on, little guy. I’ll help you.” The little boy hesitates at the glee he hears in the voice. The mask slipping slightly at the new game unfolding. But he accepts the hand offered. Not knowing it’ll be the last offer he ever accepts. And he’s on the child’s equivalent of the Green Mile.
“The knowledge of what one can do with their power, and how much power one has will increase what the person will do. It is the closest to the perpetual motion machine as we have. Having the power leads to wanting to use the power. Just as a new toy doesn’t get put on a shelf to gather dust, but must be played with…power is not just horded. It is used.”
Tommy is waiting for Piggy right off campus. Little bastard wants to get out of paying, get out of beatings. Tells the principle. Seething with rage. BASTARD PIGGY. Thinks he’s safe due to Tommy being expelled. Dead wrong. There he is, Piggy never even sees him coming. Probably forgotten all about him. He allows just enough time for Piggy to realize what’s happening. Utter ‘Tommy?’ Before the fist goes into his stomach. Driving out the air, crumpling him to the ground.
“Using the power leads to reward, and even sometimes surprise over what one can accomplish. This leads to the understanding that power can be wielded, and brings reward. This is basically new power, and like the old, it too must be used.”
Piggy is down. He begins stomping his chest. A crack indicates that at least one rib is broken. More kicks to the stomach, and finally the head. Piggy spits up blood as soccer kick lands to the jaw. Squealing as he spits out blood. Crying. Snot and tears and blood smearing his face. Beautiful. He drops to his knees and begins punching his fat face. Once more crumpling the snout. Swelling and eye shut. Cracking the cheek bone and splitting open his temple. Pure animal fury. He rains the blows down. Until the pleas to stop turn into unintelligible sounds. And then blubbering.
“It becomes a self fueling fire. Getting ever greater with each use. Burning higher, hotter brighter.”
He realizes he’s breathing heavy. Knuckles split open. He’s lost track of time completely. How long has he been hitting Piggy? Who knows? Who cares? Wrapping his fingers in the fat piece of craps hair and pulls his head up.
“What now, asshole?”
No answer. No response. Another blow to the mouth.
“ANSWER ME!”
Except now he gets it. Piggy’s out. No response is coming. Knocked out. No, on closer inspection, not out. Piggy doesn’t seem to be breathing. Not out. Gone. Forever. Dead as hell. Fear first. Panic. But that fades quick. He laughs, nervously at first. Hesitant. Disbelieving. But then real laughter. He showed Piggy. Showed him good. Showed him permanent. That was…fun. And he couldn’t even be expelled again. Perfect.
"The more powerful you are, the more you can do. The more you attempt. The lion doesn’t think twice about the gazelle’s thoughts or feelings or needs or wants. Just as his dinner. The big fish never thinks about the little fish. Or the fox about the chicken.”
She dabs makeup gingerly on the ugly purple bruise rapidly spreading under her right eye. Even with the dark mar spreading, she is still stunning. Far more pretty at 18 than even 12. The boys are almost paying attention to her. Despite the plainness of her clothing, and her conservative makeup, she is the most lusted after girl at school. Something has NOT escaped Todd. And that drives him crazy. Seemingly to no end. And, it always gets taken out on her.
“Much too, the human predator thinks very little of their prey. Most of them are incapable of such introspection, and even the few who are capable show little care for such thoughts. “
She’s gotten amazing at covering it up. Most of the time the bruises aren’t noticeable. But the few times they have been, she’s found she’s surprisingly amazing about lying about it. None of that crap about running into a door. She’s been hit by a stranger (even had to file a police report over it), slipped on ice to chip a tooth, feel down the stairs (true, but since he pushed her…misleading), and a host of others. She’s even written it off as what she deserves. And he doesn’t do it…most of the time.
“Gradually, the understanding of rights of others fades. While as children, most realize either that others have rights or…at the very least…that others believe they have rights, that dissipates with age. Either the recognition or the caring. Or sometimes, both.”
But that’s been changing. As has why. She used to have to do something to deserve it. Flirt with a boy. Look at him wrong. There was always a reason. But when he punched her in the stomach after she turned that freshman down, that was different. As if she would’ve even if single. She laughed coldly at him. Fat, unattractive, geeky with coke bottle glasses. But despite her almost cruel rejection, Todd still hit her. Didn’t even offer a reason.
“At this point, all that others become is prey. No different from the lion who thinks only of the gazelle as food, the “more than humans” see others only as potential needs being fulfilled: future entertainment, sex, money, murder, or useless. Nevermore as others, but as things, goals, objectives.”
No one will notice this one. She’s gotten that good. It’s covered. As she turns to stand, Todd is there, clearly furious.
“Todd, what…”
She doesn’t get to finish as a vicious backhand cuts her off mid sentence and spins her. She clips the side of her head on the corner of the desk, tumbling to the ground. Probably a concussion. She feels woozy and disorientated. But he doesn’t care. He grabs her by the collar.
“You stupid bitch. Craig called again, asking you out. I told you, you’re MY girl, and you need to stop flirting with other boys.”
She tries to respond, but can’t.
“I’m getting tired of this bitch. Don’t you think about leaving me, cause if you do…I swear I’ll kill you.”
She believes every word of it. And is filled with fear.
“Any thought of others beyond that are just the challenges of the goal. Obstacles, road blocks, what has to be overcome to get what they want. Morality fades completely, and society’s rules are now just things that thwart their goals. To stop the conquest or enjoyment.”
Another baby. Try threes to replace him. They just don’t learn. One little brother off a cliff. The next was sickly from birth. Tampered with his pills and he was gone too. Now, a brand new baby. Helpless in a crib. And crying. ALWAYS crying.
“The worth of others, their status necessarily diminishes as the self-importance of the predator increases. They are inversely connected. As one goes down, the other goes up. The more important the predator, the less the prey. Soon one is not just more than human, or the prey less. They become something on a completely different plane. Inherently superior . Better. “
Why couldn’t they be happy with one child? Why did they have to keep trying again. A sister might be more useful than a brother, but still unwanted. And years of annoyance before any use could be obtained. Simply not worth it. Surely his parents would get the hint this time.
“Power equals worth. And having power therefore is having worth. The more power, the more worth. Even if the perceived power doesn’t exist, the perceived worth is real to them. So worth is like power. They get more and more worthy as they age. At least in their own mind. “
They say SIDS is quite common in babies…Taking a small pillow, he places it over her face. Careful not to push down, he holds it gently on top. Just barely enough to keep air from entering her little lungs. She begins to thrash futilely. He can hear the tiniest little cry from beneath the pillow, then nothing. She stops moving. So much quicker than he expected.
“The less power, the less worth. Again, tied inversely. Of course, with worth changing so drastically, self-importance leads to superiority complexes. Self love leads to a form of self worship.”
He looks down at the lifeless infant and feels a want. Hopefully his parents won’t get the lesson. Maybe he’ll encourage them to try again. Suddenly, he wants another new sibling. Not to keep. But to use…just like the last three.”
“And with worship, the individual places himself on a unique pedestal. Only gods deserve worship. And with worship, they begin to see themselves as a God.”
With a toss, the carcass of the squirrel joins a host of discarded animals behind the rose bushes. The light has finally gone out in the one eye it still has. A permanent scream etched into its face by the final touches of death. For now, it is out of place, fresh and new. But soon time, the elements, and maybe some scavengers will make it look like the others. Some little more than bones, others in advanced stages of decay, and one or two relatively fresh kills. A squirrel or two, bird bones, pieces of a neighborhood stray cat. The collection has grown nicely. The remains show increasing cruelty with more and more crushed bones, separated parts. A detached head lying on top of the body it used to be connected to.
“Power is no longer something one has. Power is something one is. No longer a part of someone, or something they posses. Power is who they are. What they are.”
It’s taking more and more to feel that first rush anymore. First, with each passing year, than each passing month, and now, virtually with each and every kill, it takes more and more cruelty to get the same enjoyment as with the last kill. Either that or he must accept that he won’t get a full rush anymore. Diminished returns on increased investment. And that just isn’t acceptable.
“Much like the old phrase, ‘might makes right’, this acknowledgement of power opens new doors. Old societal mores no longer matter. That’s for the lesser beings. Not for ‘you’.”
A scowl comes over his face as the acknowledgement of his predicament hits. Satisfaction may be more elusive from here on out. The animals just aren’t cutting it anymore. It’s all been done. The expressions are just variations of a theme. Old news, old hat. Same death, different day. He doesn’t even bury them anymore. Let someone find out. Who cares? Even stopping using the blade and just going to his bare hands provided only temporary thrills. Walking back around the house, he barely even notices the cat starting to sniff at the squirrel. The small twinge at the base of his spine doesn’t even peak his interest. But when he gets around to the front, something else does catch his attention. The little boy wandering around the street aimlessly. Tears in his eyes. Dangerously close to opening the flood gates of emotion. Dirty smudges on his clothes. Looking wildly back and forth and mewing pathetically for ‘Ma’.
“This is a slow realization. The initial realization hits like a wave. ‘You’re different.’ But the implications come in a tiny drip, slowly like a morphine IV. The full realization sometimes taking a decade or more to manifest.”
The scowl disappears, and he puts the friendly mask back on. Big goofy smile. Friendly eyes. Softness in the voice. Perhaps an older person might see through the façade, but not a child. “What’s wrong buddy? You can’t find your mama?” The head shakes violently. “Does anyone know you’re out here?” Again, shaking. “Come on, little guy. I’ll help you.” The little boy hesitates at the glee he hears in the voice. The mask slipping slightly at the new game unfolding. But he accepts the hand offered. Not knowing it’ll be the last offer he ever accepts. And he’s on the child’s equivalent of the Green Mile.
“The knowledge of what one can do with their power, and how much power one has will increase what the person will do. It is the closest to the perpetual motion machine as we have. Having the power leads to wanting to use the power. Just as a new toy doesn’t get put on a shelf to gather dust, but must be played with…power is not just horded. It is used.”
Tommy is waiting for Piggy right off campus. Little bastard wants to get out of paying, get out of beatings. Tells the principle. Seething with rage. BASTARD PIGGY. Thinks he’s safe due to Tommy being expelled. Dead wrong. There he is, Piggy never even sees him coming. Probably forgotten all about him. He allows just enough time for Piggy to realize what’s happening. Utter ‘Tommy?’ Before the fist goes into his stomach. Driving out the air, crumpling him to the ground.
“Using the power leads to reward, and even sometimes surprise over what one can accomplish. This leads to the understanding that power can be wielded, and brings reward. This is basically new power, and like the old, it too must be used.”
Piggy is down. He begins stomping his chest. A crack indicates that at least one rib is broken. More kicks to the stomach, and finally the head. Piggy spits up blood as soccer kick lands to the jaw. Squealing as he spits out blood. Crying. Snot and tears and blood smearing his face. Beautiful. He drops to his knees and begins punching his fat face. Once more crumpling the snout. Swelling and eye shut. Cracking the cheek bone and splitting open his temple. Pure animal fury. He rains the blows down. Until the pleas to stop turn into unintelligible sounds. And then blubbering.
“It becomes a self fueling fire. Getting ever greater with each use. Burning higher, hotter brighter.”
He realizes he’s breathing heavy. Knuckles split open. He’s lost track of time completely. How long has he been hitting Piggy? Who knows? Who cares? Wrapping his fingers in the fat piece of craps hair and pulls his head up.
“What now, asshole?”
No answer. No response. Another blow to the mouth.
“ANSWER ME!”
Except now he gets it. Piggy’s out. No response is coming. Knocked out. No, on closer inspection, not out. Piggy doesn’t seem to be breathing. Not out. Gone. Forever. Dead as hell. Fear first. Panic. But that fades quick. He laughs, nervously at first. Hesitant. Disbelieving. But then real laughter. He showed Piggy. Showed him good. Showed him permanent. That was…fun. And he couldn’t even be expelled again. Perfect.
"The more powerful you are, the more you can do. The more you attempt. The lion doesn’t think twice about the gazelle’s thoughts or feelings or needs or wants. Just as his dinner. The big fish never thinks about the little fish. Or the fox about the chicken.”
She dabs makeup gingerly on the ugly purple bruise rapidly spreading under her right eye. Even with the dark mar spreading, she is still stunning. Far more pretty at 18 than even 12. The boys are almost paying attention to her. Despite the plainness of her clothing, and her conservative makeup, she is the most lusted after girl at school. Something has NOT escaped Todd. And that drives him crazy. Seemingly to no end. And, it always gets taken out on her.
“Much too, the human predator thinks very little of their prey. Most of them are incapable of such introspection, and even the few who are capable show little care for such thoughts. “
She’s gotten amazing at covering it up. Most of the time the bruises aren’t noticeable. But the few times they have been, she’s found she’s surprisingly amazing about lying about it. None of that crap about running into a door. She’s been hit by a stranger (even had to file a police report over it), slipped on ice to chip a tooth, feel down the stairs (true, but since he pushed her…misleading), and a host of others. She’s even written it off as what she deserves. And he doesn’t do it…most of the time.
“Gradually, the understanding of rights of others fades. While as children, most realize either that others have rights or…at the very least…that others believe they have rights, that dissipates with age. Either the recognition or the caring. Or sometimes, both.”
But that’s been changing. As has why. She used to have to do something to deserve it. Flirt with a boy. Look at him wrong. There was always a reason. But when he punched her in the stomach after she turned that freshman down, that was different. As if she would’ve even if single. She laughed coldly at him. Fat, unattractive, geeky with coke bottle glasses. But despite her almost cruel rejection, Todd still hit her. Didn’t even offer a reason.
“At this point, all that others become is prey. No different from the lion who thinks only of the gazelle as food, the “more than humans” see others only as potential needs being fulfilled: future entertainment, sex, money, murder, or useless. Nevermore as others, but as things, goals, objectives.”
No one will notice this one. She’s gotten that good. It’s covered. As she turns to stand, Todd is there, clearly furious.
“Todd, what…”
She doesn’t get to finish as a vicious backhand cuts her off mid sentence and spins her. She clips the side of her head on the corner of the desk, tumbling to the ground. Probably a concussion. She feels woozy and disorientated. But he doesn’t care. He grabs her by the collar.
“You stupid bitch. Craig called again, asking you out. I told you, you’re MY girl, and you need to stop flirting with other boys.”
She tries to respond, but can’t.
“I’m getting tired of this bitch. Don’t you think about leaving me, cause if you do…I swear I’ll kill you.”
She believes every word of it. And is filled with fear.
“Any thought of others beyond that are just the challenges of the goal. Obstacles, road blocks, what has to be overcome to get what they want. Morality fades completely, and society’s rules are now just things that thwart their goals. To stop the conquest or enjoyment.”
Another baby. Try threes to replace him. They just don’t learn. One little brother off a cliff. The next was sickly from birth. Tampered with his pills and he was gone too. Now, a brand new baby. Helpless in a crib. And crying. ALWAYS crying.
“The worth of others, their status necessarily diminishes as the self-importance of the predator increases. They are inversely connected. As one goes down, the other goes up. The more important the predator, the less the prey. Soon one is not just more than human, or the prey less. They become something on a completely different plane. Inherently superior . Better. “
Why couldn’t they be happy with one child? Why did they have to keep trying again. A sister might be more useful than a brother, but still unwanted. And years of annoyance before any use could be obtained. Simply not worth it. Surely his parents would get the hint this time.
“Power equals worth. And having power therefore is having worth. The more power, the more worth. Even if the perceived power doesn’t exist, the perceived worth is real to them. So worth is like power. They get more and more worthy as they age. At least in their own mind. “
They say SIDS is quite common in babies…Taking a small pillow, he places it over her face. Careful not to push down, he holds it gently on top. Just barely enough to keep air from entering her little lungs. She begins to thrash futilely. He can hear the tiniest little cry from beneath the pillow, then nothing. She stops moving. So much quicker than he expected.
“The less power, the less worth. Again, tied inversely. Of course, with worth changing so drastically, self-importance leads to superiority complexes. Self love leads to a form of self worship.”
He looks down at the lifeless infant and feels a want. Hopefully his parents won’t get the lesson. Maybe he’ll encourage them to try again. Suddenly, he wants another new sibling. Not to keep. But to use…just like the last three.”
“And with worship, the individual places himself on a unique pedestal. Only gods deserve worship. And with worship, they begin to see themselves as a God.”