Note: This story contains snuff, violence and if you don't want to read about that sorta stuff, or are sqeamish and reactionary, please don't read this. Thanks!
Mumblings
My name is Great Harper. I am 54. My parents had been hippies. This was the reason behind the name. Great. I thought about changing it a few times when I was younger. But I know now, it fits me. It fits exactly who I am. I am Great and I can do anything I want without consequences.
I don’t exactly remember when it first happened. I was probably 9 or so. I remember the panic welling up inside as I saw the flames built up. I was alone.
The kitchen was on fire. Mom said never use the toaster oven when she was not home. But, I had to make some garlic bread. So, now the kitchen was on fire. My short life passed before my eyes, and I prepared to run out of the house, scream for help. Then my life would be over. Fire engines, neighbors, Mrs. Garfield staring at me, reminding me that I was the kid who biked through her rose garden and I was just no good. This would prove it. Then mom would come. And, then dad, from his house across town--long story. I would be dead. Or, I would be punished always. No games, toys, no friends. Life would be over.
The panic welled up. I was just about to turn and run. Then suddenly I was falling. Not really. But it felt like it. Tumbling down, down, down--pressure on my chest, my groin, my hair follicles tingled.
And then I was sitting in my ass on the kitchen floor. There was no fire. I got up in a daze--still holding the unreasonably buttered bread. I started to put the bread into the toaster oven when I jerked to alertness of what I was about to do. The soggy bread fell on the counter and I quickly swept it to the floor, stomping on it as if it was on fire.
But, it wasn’t.
Nothing had happened. No fire. Everything was fine.
As I think back, I remember it as if it was a dream. A vivid, very real dream.
And, at 9. I thought it was. And later that day I was back to my old self, playing with friends, not a care in the world.
But, as time went by, I learned that it was not a dream.
Today I was at the mall. Carrie, my wife, was shopping with my daughter , Emily and her friend Beth. They were both graduating seniors and looking for clothes. Boring for me. But, I will be proud none-the-less as a good father should. And, I was a good father--inn this timeline.
I was looking for an “Outing” while they shopped. That is what I named it. An Outing. I don’t know why I picked the name. It seemed appropriate. It was a little adventure of sorts but the word had a second meaning...”out” as in out of my body. Though, the effects was anything but that. It is real, because I believe it is real. And, as you read, you will see what I mean.
I searched for a victim.
The Lady in Red
The mall was not croweded. In a town whose population is, well under 50,000, mall’s are’t big or busy except maybe around Christmas. And, it was not Christmas but March. It was raining outside. It was after 7pm. Not many here at all.
Perfect.
I spotted her sitting on the bench. Shopping bag next to her. Shoes I think. She was cute. Body was average maybe slight tummy. Nice tits, 34D being held loosely by a bright red v-cut dress. The fabric was soft. I could see some cleavage. The dress just covered her knees. No nylons, but her legs were smooth and northwest white. She had sandals. Her toes were also painted red. Nice. I would say she was 27 or so. What struck me even more then the dress was her hair. Brown, long, some waves to it. It looked silky smooth from where I was, about 10 feet away.
I stood my ground. I looked around to see what would happen when I did it. I had gotten really good at it. Knowing how others would react.
This type of outing I called a “spectacle”. There would be no secrecy. No time to hang around. I just had to do it and get out so I did not get “stuck”.
10 feet away. This is where I would reset when I was done. I had to make sure it was clear. I had to be sure there were no mistakes.
I leaned forward. Took a step. Another. I was almost to her. My hand in my pocket. I was good at this. My knife coming out, she looked up and I was straddling her. I leaned in hard, cupping my hand over her mouth, the blade across her throat, sinking in, sliding, warm liquid soaked her dress and I pushed my body into hers, covering any view and feeling her blood soak through my clothing. My cock throbbed, pushing out of my loose shorts against her warm tummy as it quivered. Her body jerks 3 or 4 times--little sounds came from her mouth and her eyes glaze over.
She did not last long and I did not mean it to. She was still. Dead.
I was still straddling her. Corner of my eye, I saw an old lady--mall walking. I leaned in and kissed the woman on her bloody lips, letting my tongue slip into her mouth, feeling her warmth, tasting her salty blood.
My cock was still pushed against her tummy, throbbing. I could get off like this. Better if I could take her somewhere, get the full show. I looked around. Two more people, 10 feet away, walked by. I looked like I was kissing my girlfriend. Blood was beginning to pool on the floor.
I looked at my watch. 13min. I could go back or I could make it last more. What to do?
I decided to try to move her. The service door was 20 feet down. I know this mall. The girl at the keychain kiosk, Linsey, would be reading her crosswords. I could do it. I had done it before--with Linsey in fact, but that is another story.
No one around. I hoisted her up and started dragging her down the mall. Blood trailing. It was going smooth. I could see a couple coming out of the music store about 40 feet away. They could not make sense of what I was doing. I kept going.
“What the hell.”
It was Linsey. Fuck. She was just staring at me. Then, she screamed. I looked at my watch. 15min. Time for a side job.
I dropped the women. She fell to the tile floor with a splat, staring blankly. I started seeing more people as I turned toward Linsey. She was a sweet girl. Petite. 22, with tiny breasts. She would be here in this kiosk through the summer, then back for her senior year at Clarksdale University. We’d talked a lot--under varying circumstances.
I walked up to her as she screamed and plunged the knife into her chest. She went down instantly. I dove over the enclosed kiosk and was on top of her her as she was dying.
Not much time. I started hearing a lot of activity, but I know I could do it.
He had my cock out, in my bloody hand and I looked down at her bleeding out, looking at me with fear and pain. I stopped for a second, took my blade and ripped into her shirt, tearing it off. Her supple breasts looked up at me, nipples hard. Her body was spasming, eyes rolling back. Mouth open. No one could see me. Not yet. I could tell they were getting to the women. All they had to do was walk to the kiosk and look over the counter.
My cock was throbbing as I jacked off over the dying girl. 18min. I needed to speed it up. I thrust the knife into her chest a couple more times with sucking sounds. More blood poured out. Her eyes twitched and half closed, then her face relaxed. She stopped moving. Her lips were slightly parted. I was going to cum on her. It was building. I looked up. Some woman was looking at me. Then another.
19min
I closed my eyes, focused, opened them--looking into dead Linsey’s partly opened eyes and mouth, thinking of her pretty young smile and sweetness, then my harsh attack, knife tearing into her--cutting her down, plunging it into her chest again and again, killing her---killing this poor innocent young woman. And here she was, dead, laying under me, staring blankly, mouth open, waiting for me to fill it. My juice shot out, landing in her mouth,, across her eyes, then hitting her bloody chest and soft white breasts. Then, I was being pulled back and up.
I was running out of time. I had to be standing.
Over the top they pulled me, I landed hard on the floor. Only a few seconds left.
A crowd had formed. People yelling, screaming crying. I realized my cock was still hanging out, cum dripping. I was covered in blood. Through the crowd I could see my wife---my daughter and friend to the left of her, huddled, sobbing. She started walking toward me.
“Shut up!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
This shocked everyone for a moment. I stood up. Probably 20 people all around me now, ready to pounce and my wife, my dear sweet wife approaching. It could all be over soon. This would be my life.
Then I fell backward...
...and landed on my ass on the hard tile. The lady in red on the bench looked up at me, a look of concern. Did the old man hurt himself. I stood up. Nodded that I was ok. Then I walked away and as I often did--just by the skin of my teeth.
Lessons in Time
19 min 57 seconds. It was the year I was born. That is how much time I can turn back.
I learned this the hard way when I was younger--but fortunately, before I started doing the really bad stuff--like killing people.
Basically, what I learned is that, if I do something that I want to change, I can go back 19:57 in time. I do this by falling backward. Then I land exactly where I was before by that amount of time. I can always leave earlier. I will still go back 19:57. So, typically, I stake out the spot I know I will come back to and wait a few minutes. Don’t want to fall back while driving. Now, hopefully all that is before events of dire consequence have happened. I found out, that essentially 20min is not very long. And, let me just say, back in the mall, if I had waited until 19:58, my ass would of just fell down right in the middle of the mob and I would be sitting in death row. The timeline would become the permanent one.
I have made plenty of mistakes though, and have moved into several new timelines. But luckily, it was for things that I could deal with. When I was 11, I did not quite make it out of Barney's in time before the security guard caught me. But it was a small town, my dad know the owner and squared everything away. But, I was in THAT new timeline--where my parents knew I tried to shoplift. Course, I had done it many times before and never got caught. I would do it again. Another time, it was feeling up Marcy Patchow in her bedroom. Got to 3rd base and was almost there---lost track of time when her mom walked in---home early. Boy was I in trouble. But, that new timeline was great. I was the kid who got to 3rd base with Marcy. I was cool now. This new timeline really helped out. And, sometime, it just worked out that way. I have many stories of course. Many involving changing rooms at department stores---or the girls locker room. But, with killing, I have to be oh so careful. To get stuck in timeline where I have killed and been caught---life would be over for me. But, I am hooked. It is the killing that gives me the best rush.
I guess I can start by telling you the first time.
It was my senior year of high school. 1975. I was on a double date with my pal Vinny and his girl Darlene. I was with my girl Carla. It was the summer after our senior year and we were all stupid teenagers. It was date night and we were on the way back from the drive in. Let’s just say, I really learned who I was that night. And, it’s been like cake every since.