Creepypasta Files Wikia

Whilst other critics waste their time on trivial matters like literature, film, cuisine, or art. I, on the other hand, dare to review one particular facet of life at your behest. It is a subject not only controversial but is one that leaves us curious and makes us feel a compelling need to understand why. My name is Benjamin Keller and this is my review on murder.

Peter Gill, a close friend of mine had recently brought to my attention that his wife, Maria, is having an extramarital affair. Peter expressed he was deeply upset by this revelation and contemplated murdering his wife in an act of revenge, or how he simply put it in his own words, “I feel like killing that fucking, lying, whoring bitch” and further proclaimed, “I'm just wondering what it would feel like”. Peter’s murderous rage raises an interesting point. Murder. Just what are the effects of taking another’s life? In this review, you will find a detailed analysis based on genuine real-life experiences in a trail of anger, violence, and grief.

Earlier this month, Jack Henderson, of my local newsagency had accidentally short-changed me of 60 cents. Now, normally the motivation for murder would’ve been far more passionate, but for the purpose of this review, I'm afraid Jack had to be the one to suffice. Over the coming days, I began to feel sympathy for this unfortunate young man. However, I had to put aside these feelings and simply only focus on killing him. As I watched for days on end, I quickly learned Jack’s typical pattern. An alleyway through which Jack walks home after going to the grocery store. This is the part where it becomes a waiting game. Hours had passed on that rainy night but as if the trepidation of this pending act weren’t enough, I feared I might have also caught a cold. I began to wonder whether I can really go through with this at all, but then the moment arises. As soon as he appeared around that corner, I stabbed him under the rib cage with a single-edged folding knife. It was just enough to bring him down, where I then reached around the front to slit his throat

...I’m sorry, Jack.

It was an exhausting evening, both physically and mentally. A gruesome, stomach-churning experience. I found the smashing end of the teeth to be particularly unsettling, and whilst I do feel a sense of satisfaction and relief to have his corpse underground, the feelings of guilt and remorse had really begun to take effect over such senseless violence. What a waste. As the weeks pass, that incident with Jack still continues to have a staggering effect on my own life. Whilst the immediate one was the sheer inconvenience of the fact I now have to walk five extra blocks each morning just to buy my newspaper and packet of Virginia slims, it was almost as if it was something deeper than this. A sense that I had crossed over. I am now no longer the same person I once was. Jack’s murder had become a terrible burden, weighing me down, tormenting me in my sleep.

I felt strangely compelled to witness his burial at the town’s local cemetery, partly because of a morbid fascination as I know for a fact that grave is empty, but also to get some closure on Jack’s death. In an ironic twist to this tragedy, I later discovered the 60 cents in my back pocket. It seems Jack never short-changed me after all, which subtracts even more sense from this already senseless crime. In summation, murder does hold a brutal almost primeval thrill. The rush of adrenaline as you snuff the flame of life from your victim’s wick does bring with it an incredible surge of power. However, this barbaric sensation is quickly eclipsed by endless waves of guilt crashing against you in a storm of remorse, which has been whipped into a frenzy by a cyclone of self-hatred. Whether it be a crime of passion or in cold blood, murder is morally void of all sense and all reason. It is a brutal, malicious, often time-consuming act of ungodly evil.  

Murder, it’s as good as fishing without bait. Not recommended.