A Sociopath

[I was not sure if I wanted to post this or not. I have been working on a short story about a sociopath for a couple months, which I am excited to possibly finish by this summer. It’s a bit dark. Anyway, this writing is much, much older but gives a taste into the short that I am writing.]

Outside her window, the crisp wind tears through my clothes in gusts,
Watching her sleep softly through the night upon the softened plump bed,
Subtly imagining my body upon her, stifling her screams between thrusts,
Afterwards, splitting her open to hide my secret in satin sheets colored red.

For a few more moments, the thought echoes in my mind and cleverly I grin,
As the smile vanishes, I detach all emotions, knowing where I have to begin,
I am quickly pacified by the panic that I could inflict upon the woman’s heart,
In the moment, she will gurgle questions of “why”; however, I must not impart.
My eyes turn to the sparkling stars, contemplating this freedom so easily spent,
Laughing at those that gaze to the eccentric heavens for guidance and consent.

Leaving the pane, I unlock the backdoor with the key she places above the sill,
My boots softly tread through the kitchen, nearing my way to the bedroom door,
Walking by dimming flames in a fireplace that earlier had removed the cold chill,
I pause in my footsteps, wondering if she should come here to moan like a whore.

Notably, by the furniture in the living room, there sits a pile of books and papers,
Added information on my victim will only add to my debt when paying the pipers,
Intrigued, my fingers leaf over a small diary bound in leather with a simple red cord,
I pluck it aside and open to the delicate pages that write of this woman’s life adored,
She scribbled, in her own hand, of things felt in her heart of significance and worth,
Nowhere in the writings can I find my name, and so I toss it to the ember-like earth.

Turning to the bedroom, I crash through the weakened door eager to see her visage,
Her bloodcurdling scream echoes through the house, and I take it in with appreciation,
As she backs up into the pillows on her bed, defining her innocence by her cleavage,
I keep all expressions off my face, although satisfied, before acting upon temptation.

 
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22 thoughts on “A Sociopath

    • Yeah, its a bit scary when you start delving into the darkest places of your mind. I am writing the story completely from the perspective of the “bad guy”. It is enjoyable, but I have to walk away from the dude sometimes.

  1. The grandiose language of the protagonist seems to detract from the story but within context it does seem to signify madness. A little but of thoughtful editing will give this tale more oomph I think.

  2. I have to admit, after the first paragraph I had to stop. It was creepy and terrifying and taking me somewhere I really didn’t want to head. Which is to say, it was really well written and I could totally see someone thinking that. I just don’t want to know what else they’re thinking. 😛

    • Definitely understandable, Paul. The short story I am writing can be a terrifying read. It really delves into the mind and warped logic of a sociopath, giving them rationalization for their actions and reducing their empathy and guilt for the victim. You start off almost connecting with the protagonist (the sociopath), but end it back on the side of moral justification. I am enjoying piecing it together, but it is challenging.

  3. Wow! Deliciously dark! I hear what your saying about ‘having to walk away’ from a character sometimes ( I really loath some of mine) – but I think that’s a sign you’ve got a strong character. Great stuff, can’t wait to read more!

  4. I think this is fantastic ~ hard to write for sure (indeed I believe lest we be misconstrued) ~ To be able to delve into the darkness and place ourselves in it is a mark of a good writer – to understand human nature and all forms it keeps..brings the story to life.
    AND – without the darkness – what would be the light? 😀

  5. Others may see the need to read this, because they want to know what darkness is like..But I stopped after the first two paragraphs. I’ve known a similar character. One who delights in power over others; one who enjoys seeing the “powerless, insignificant other”—cringe in fear.
    Above, someone commented that–”The grandiose language of the protagonist seems to detract from the story.”
    Actually, he grandiose language is exactly correct. Viewing himself as better than everyone else, smarter than everyone else–the typical narcissistic sociopath. His emotions are the only ones that count. In his mind; everything and everyone in the world exists solely for his enjoyment.
    Knowing what I know, I prefer to read stories of light.

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