Such a beautiful woman to watch sleep. This has always been my favorite part of a meaningful relationship, seeing her sleep so peacefully. She almost looks angelic. So far away in her dreams, but I know some part of her is dreaming of the one next to her in this bed. I don't know how, but I just know. I always have to play just a little though, it's just too irresistible.
I breathe hot on the nape of her neck. She quickly draws her head back towards me and I can hear a slight laugh, as if it had tickled her in her sleep. As she is slowly rousing, I caress her cheek, soaking up her innocence as she moves slowly, trustingly.
Her hands reach up to my hair, then run down the side of my face. She touches my chin and squeezes slightly, as if she was tugging on hair. She stops and I can tell that she has made the sudden realization. I suppose her boy toy had a beard or a goatee, but I am freshly shaven. I didn't really pay attention when I slid the knife into his neck.
I am not her lover. Just as she tries to let out a scream, I clamp my gloved hands around her throat and squeeze. This is the love that I wanted, her flailing and weak beneath my body. No matter how hard she swings, I am in control. I own her, she is mine and will always be for the rest of her life. I apply just enough pressure to keep her sounds muffled, but from there, I apply more pressure slowly. Just as they taught me so long ago, breath out as you pull the trigger, I exhale and tighten my grip on her. Her swan song so quietly sung to the choir of pillows and now she is gone. I slip away.
My name is Paul Dawson. I created this site to see just how long it would take. Capture is inevitable, our kind are always "brought to justice". Unfortunately, I have just been too insightful to realize this before I began, and so I transcribe pieces of my very own, very special personal journal upon this blog site I have labeled "Blood Into Blog".
The ones labeled Blood Into Blog will come from this journal, and I am glad you have at least enough fortitude to want to walk this journey with me, at least temporarily. I am waiting in plain view to see when the hammer will fall and just how fast the system can catch. All to entertain, can we really do more in this world? In the end, those great ones before me are just stories and sliding pictures, set up to entertain the normal ones.
The ones like you that have the capability to go through this world and not take your frustrations, hatred, and anger out on the unsuspecting. So much like I was when I wrote the first entry into my journal with crimson stained, trembling hands.
Her hands reach up to my hair, then run down the side of my face. She touches my chin and squeezes slightly, as if she was tugging on hair. She stops and I can tell that she has made the sudden realization. I suppose her boy toy had a beard or a goatee, but I am freshly shaven. I didn't really pay attention when I slid the knife into his neck.
I am not her lover. Just as she tries to let out a scream, I clamp my gloved hands around her throat and squeeze. This is the love that I wanted, her flailing and weak beneath my body. No matter how hard she swings, I am in control. I own her, she is mine and will always be for the rest of her life. I apply just enough pressure to keep her sounds muffled, but from there, I apply more pressure slowly. Just as they taught me so long ago, breath out as you pull the trigger, I exhale and tighten my grip on her. Her swan song so quietly sung to the choir of pillows and now she is gone. I slip away.
My name is Paul Dawson. I created this site to see just how long it would take. Capture is inevitable, our kind are always "brought to justice". Unfortunately, I have just been too insightful to realize this before I began, and so I transcribe pieces of my very own, very special personal journal upon this blog site I have labeled "Blood Into Blog".
The ones labeled Blood Into Blog will come from this journal, and I am glad you have at least enough fortitude to want to walk this journey with me, at least temporarily. I am waiting in plain view to see when the hammer will fall and just how fast the system can catch. All to entertain, can we really do more in this world? In the end, those great ones before me are just stories and sliding pictures, set up to entertain the normal ones.
The ones like you that have the capability to go through this world and not take your frustrations, hatred, and anger out on the unsuspecting. So much like I was when I wrote the first entry into my journal with crimson stained, trembling hands.
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