A Killing Rain (standard:horror, 36181 words)
Author: Reid Laurence	Added: Dec 07 2005	Views/Reads: 3904/3084	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Raymond Mort is a killer — make no mistake — but the lives he takes don’t fulfill a murderers bloodlust quite as much as they work to keep him happy and occupied in the strange, make-believe world he’s self-manufactured out of sheer madness. In doing so,

It was cold outside, and rain was still falling. It rained for days and
it seemed that it would never end. The city's storm sewers were filled 
to capacity and flood waters threatened to back up and overflow out 
into the streets, but still, relentless, the rain continued to fall. 
Like the sound of large pebbles falling on rooftops, it fell and 
meandered its way along its natural gravitational path, unhindered and 
flowing from rooftops to gutter systems to down spouts, and out into 
the streets, not with a fury or rage but with a constant unending 
urgency. An urgency that only the natural forces of nature could 
explain, but would not. Meteorologists could find no exact explanation, 
but only suspected that modern industrial pollutants were to blame and 
man, not nature, was the cause. Still, the reason or reasons for the 
copious downfall was the furthest thought from Raymond Mort's mind, as 
he stood as still as a hard granite statue in the night, concealed by a 
cloak of darkness in a niche of an alley wall, patiently waiting. From 
his position, as he leaned against the cold wet wall, he could see the 
reflection of the liquor store's sign from across the street in the 
puddle of water in front of him. The sign read; Sam's Liquor Store, and 
it flashed on and off, nearly synchronized to the beat of the falling 
rain. As Raymond listened, he could hear the quiet footsteps of a 
passing stranger getting closer. The sound of the person's hard leather 
shoe soles striking the concrete pavement made a distinct noise and he 
could tell even without looking that the stranger was male. Suddenly, 
to Raymond's surprise, the sound of the rhythmic pattern of steps 
vanished, and wondering why or how, he peered out from the safety of 
his concealment to look down the street. Spotting the stranger, he saw 
the warm glow of a tiny fire ignite from a match the man struck, as he 
stood motionless, guarding a cigarette with his hand from the cool 
falling rain. Taking a deep drag on the cigarette, the unknown 
pedestrian adjusted his coat, pulled the collar up around the exposed 
skin of his neck and tossed the now dead match to the ground, once 
more, taking up the pace of his stride. Now, only yards away from where 
Raymond stood, the man slowly approached. Unbuttoning the midriff of 
his black trench coat, Raymond put his right hand over the handle of an 
authentic World War ll Nazi dagger on his belt, and unsnapped the small 
strap of leather which held the handle in place in its sheath. Pulling 
the knife out into the dim light, he rubbed the smooth enamel surface 
of the swastika on the handle of the weapon with his thumb, as he 
always did, and glanced down at it, smiling appreciatively at the 
nearly perfect diamond shaped red, black, and white design. Waiting for 
the right moment to strike, with knife in hand, Raymond watched as the 
unsuspecting stranger was by now, very nearly within striking distance. 
 Expertly, and as he'd done so many times before, Raymond allowed his 
victim to very nearly pass the alley opening, but just as the man 
stepped up and over the six inch concrete curb, he came rushing out 
from the shadows of his hiding place, quickly putting his left hand 
around the man's mouth and dragging him from the dim light of the 
flashing sign, back into the cold, dank recesses of his flagging soul. 
As Raymond dragged the man back into the darkness, he could feel him 
struggling from beneath his grip. Frightened and surprised by his ill 
fate, the stranger squirmed and writhed but tried in vain to break free 
of Raymond's strong, practiced hold. As the man's heartbeat rose, so 
did the pace of his breathing, but like a large snake, securing its 
victim by wrapping around it and increasing its pressure, so did 
Raymond's grasp, as the left biceps of his arm flexed and tightened. 
Suddenly, and with surgical precision, Raymond stabbed his victim, 
piercing the right kidney, and as the cold steel blade entered his 
body, his eyes widened and his chest heaved with one great labored 
breath. The piercing blade, like a terrible hot iron severed arteries 
and cut muscle from bone along the course of its deadly path. Upon 
removing the now blood stained blade, Raymond could feel the life force 
slowly fading from his victim, and in releasing his grasp from around 
the man's mouth, the unfortunate stranger fell first to his knees, 
wavering for a moment and then finally, as life's struggle came to its 
shocking conclusion, falling in a heap to the wet pavement beneath 
Raymond's feet. In the dark, standing over his fresh kill, Raymond tore 
open the coat of his victim with his hands and cut the shirt sleeves of 
the corpse, revealing both of the dead man's upper arms. Then quickly 
and with precision, Raymond severed the top and bottom attachments of 
the biceps, removed them and stored them in a plastic storage bag he 
brought along with him, especially for the occasion. Next, Raymond 
sliced open the pant legs of the dead man, cutting a nearly perfect 
line up and along the crease of the trouser until the large quadriceps 
muscles of the forelegs were exposed and by the same method he'd used 
to remove the man's biceps, he also removed the powerful front muscles 


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