Before you read: This story is about a serial killer that I made up. He isn't based on anybody, and any names that sound familiar (besides references and the use of the names in Horror films, music, comics, companies ect) are completely coincidence. Anything in here that is from a certain company, show or ect belongs to that company or ect and is not mine. Do not follow this character (Like making a shrine to him and worshipping him) . Do not kill people please....
Everything starts somewhere. Be it a child or a planet, they both started out as something else. But over time, they become something bigger, better, with a sharper mind and skill. Why? Why can't they be born something big, and just die having reached their best potential? Why must everytime I pick up that knife or axe, slice them up and throw them out, they have to be still writhing, wanting to become something better? Even I am still growing, and for that, I hate it and everyone else who has it. And that, my friends, are almost everyone.
We also have something called flaws, and there are people who have more flaws than others. I find that a little unfair, but that must be how the world goes. It's cruel, but true. So when I look upon the faces of my victims, at their perfectly pretty expressions or their horribly mutated ones, I ask this every time. We all have flaws, and that cannot be solved. Or can it?
My duty, dear listening individuals, is to stop the flaws from spreading, and to stop others from becoming like me. Always trying to become better, going against a race we are just too small to win. I keep them from achieving this thought of useless potential, because we never become our best. And we don't realize it until we're dead and gone. An early death can make everything better. And the more elaborate, the more potential is erased. And I have to admit, partially the more elaborate, torturing deaths are for pleasure, as I must make some use of my time here. A decent smash of a machete to the skull is fast, something used when I am in a rush. I never use guns, prefering to see the blood of the individual. I also use gullotines, acid tanks, poisons of many sorts, wires....ect ect.
But enough of that, what you guys want to see is the beginning of my story. The day when I decided my dream job was to be a serial judge. No not killer, judge, since I put judgement on my kills. Makes sense? Well, in my first few days alone before joining some friends, my days were different. I was at the beginning of my killing story, not that good with the knife. Back then, my style was not as planned and perfect as I hoped. In fact, back then, I copied several guys from movies I watched. Funny eh? Well, to me that was serious at first.
So sit back and relax, pull out a bag or two of guts and blood, and get ready for my story. The story of me, Skirah, once known as Justin Takada.