Bad Troper

Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man.
Topic: Punishment
Source: Genesis (ch. IX, v. 6)

Larry considered the poetic flavor of quote. He thought it was kind of what he was going for. It was difficult getting into the mind of his character The main one, at least. The victims were easier. Just cobble together a quick bio, a couple quirks, and rub them out as fast as your hands can type their deaths. He closed the website and took his eyes from the screen.

If you want to make a good serial killer story, you gotta have a really good serial killer. Well, not "good" good" but interesting. Compelling, that's a better term. The killer can't be just a killer. He has to be an artist, his work has something to say. But what?

Larry wished he had more life experience and cultural absorption to draw from. If only he had looked at his extensive study in Goosebumps and Choose Your Own Adventure books under the lens of a post-modern literary critic instead of a 7th grader. Looking up themes and motifs from the Google museum was not as real.

He looked around the apartment. Inspiration can strike from anywhere. You can open your door at the end of a long day, toss your keys on the futon, and by the time you turn around its there hitting you in the face! Larry paced around the room and into the walk-in kitchen. This place was unfamiliar with him and he of it. That is why Larry choose it to be the source of his inspiration. Larry felt lucky to know someone compliant enough to let him draw from this place in solitude. He would dedicate his masterpiece in the making to him.

drit plsh drit plsh plsh

He looked at the sink. The faucet, it was trying to tell him something.

"OF COURSE! THE ELEMENTS!"

A classic motif. Jerry, the killer, would drown his first victim, burn his next, bury his third, and do...something windy with the fourth. This was a well used trope but tropes are not "cliche" or "worn out" they are the tools of a writer, no, STORY TELLER! Just like a plumber's wrench or a farmer's...trident.

The only problem was, that was it. All you have is earth, wind, water, and fire. Each murder had to count, it had to have something memorable about them. This wasn't some dime novel/made-for-tv killing spree. It was art!

Maybe he'd draw upon the Eastern elements which included things like metal, jade, and wood. No western author would think of doing something so bold and fresh. He admired the eastern way of storytelling; how they left so much up for the reader to determine. He had not noticed this himself in the manga-kas he read until the wikipedia article on the subject he wisely choose to browse explored this. His masterpiece would be exotic to readers on his side of the world, and a new classic that borrows from a proud literary/oral tradition to the East.

This is the great American novel. No, its more than that. This is the epic I've waited my whole, unhappy life to make and one the whole world has waited to read, no experience! I'll draw from the North and South too!

But the Bible stuff was just too good to ignore. With that frequently translated, commanding and dire tone, it had a way of adding pure genius to any story. No matter how you shoehorned it in.

I know I can make this work! How can I marry the two and make them compliment one another?

He looked at his first victim character. He pictured his entire life in his mind and looked for a way to mix water and the Bible into his poetic death. His murder would set the entire tone of the work.

"Jerry gripped the handle of his knife" Good, good, I'm getting somewhere "He knelt down at the victim, his whole being unfolding (blossoming?) like a flower onto his hardwood floor" Ohhhh this is great, I got to write it down before I "Like Picasso, Monet, and Vaan-Go he started with gentle strokes" The victim was his canvass.

I'll carve Bible Quotes into each victim. I'll match what they say with the element I killed the character with. I made them, I can do whatever I want with them. I bet they even know this!

Larry got "up from the hardwood" floor and looked do"wn upon his creati"on. Jerry was n "ot happy but grimly satisf"ied with what whe" had done. The text was clearly carved on his chest. It was real, fleshy lines given depth and color through blood. It was clearer than anything Larry had seen in his life.

Now they will listen. I've always had something to say and now they can't ignore me.

Larry left the apartment. The sun was beginning to rise. Inspiration knows no clock! He was tired but for a good reason. He had accomplished great things today. He'd sleep walk through work today. The weekend was starting and he'd be able to start up again real soon. He stepped around the owner of the apartment and thanked him for allowing him to work there. He said nothing in return, too humble to thanked by such an artistic giant.

He's just happy to be a part of it, no doubt. Who wouldn't be?