"100 before I die"- The journal of M
an achievement (chapter 2)
Entry #1086 – Sunday, 6:45 AM
I slept like a saint. Woke up to silence. No crows this time, just that hollow nothingness that settles over the house after a clean kill. I sat in the kitchen with my tea, watching the steam curl like breath from a dying mouth.
Seventy-eight. It’s starting to feel close now. Tangible. My century. There’s a soft hum under my skin, like electricity. It used to happen after every kill. Now it happens when I plan.
The ritual’s evolving.
Entry #1086 – 4:19 PM
Spent the afternoon polishing the earrings from #77. Dancer. They still smell faintly metallic—blood never really goes. I wore them for an hour. Watched myself in the mirror. I didn’t smile. But I felt seen.
I think I’m ready for a double. Haven’t done one since #51 and #52—those college twins in Vermont. truly, that was art. Maybe I’ll top it.
Entry #1086 – 11:30 PM
Confirmed the targets: a couple in their twenties. TikTokers. Influencers. I scrolled through their posts until I wanted to puke. Fake smiles. Fake lives. But perfect symmetry.
Their names don’t matter. What matters is the aesthetics: high-rise apartment, glass walls, vanity everywhere. It’ll reflect every angle. It’ll watch me work.
They’ll be #79 and #80.
I like milestone kills.
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Entry #1087 – Monday, 10:02 AM
I broke into their place last night—scoped the layout, set up a small camera in the ceiling vent. They’ll never notice. I left a single red glove on the floor near their bed.
Just to see if they’d mention it online.
They did. This morning.
Caption: “Y’all. Creepy? Or just drunk last night??”
56,000 likes.
God, people are so desperate to be watched. It’s tragic.
They’ll get what they want.
Entry #1087 – 8:44 PM
Tonight’s the night. My gear’s laid out: gloves, rope, camera, and a smile. That’s all I need. But this time I think I'm gonna use a mask. I’m going in clean. No blood unless I want it. Control is everything.
If I get it right, they’ll die looking at each other.
Frozen in the loop of their own curated fantasy.
Entry #1088 – Tuesday, 3:36 AM
Perfect.
They were filming when I came in. Doing one of those couple Q\&A videos—“Who’s more likely to cheat?”
Cute.
They didn’t see me until I stood behind the ring light. They froze. For one beautiful moment, they didn’t scream—they just watched. Like their brains refused to admit it was real.
I told them, “Say goodbye to your audience.”
Then I cut the feed.
She went first. He begged. I let him watch her go limp, mascara bleeding into the rug. Then I whispered, eighty, into his ear before I crushed his windpipe with my knee.
His pupils were still dilated when I left.
Entry #1088 – Later That Morning, 11:11 AM
I watched the footage over pancakes. His hand reached for hers, twitching. Just out of reach. That kind of poetry should be illegal.
People online are calling it a robbery gone wrong. Cute.
I carved two new marks into the wall. The red is still wet.
Twenty more.
Entry #1089 – Wednesday, 7:00 PM
I walked past the cemetery today. Funny, how many names I know now. I could fill two whole rows by myself. Maybe one day, someone will discover them all. Map them out like constellations.
I started humming the tune from Dancer’s lullaby. Can’t get it out of my head.
I think I’ll need to return to something raw next. No more fancy apartments. Maybe a farmhouse. Isolated. The kind with a creaky barn and a dusty attic.
Something pure.
Entry #1090 – Thursday, 6:01 AM
Dreamt about my mother again. She was peeling an orange, but it bled like flesh.
I woke up smiling. First time in months.
I think I know who #81 is. A woman who runs a local daycare. People call her “Ms. Ruby.” Her laugh makes my brain itch. I’ve walked past that building twenty-seven times. She always waves at me.
Next time, I’ll wave back.
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Entry #1090 – 8:00 PM
I sharpened the garden shears tonight. Haven’t used them since #43. They’re awkward, messy. But fitting. Daycare centers are too bright—too clean. I want to smear something across those walls that no bleach will fix.
One more night of prep. Then Ruby’s getting cut from the storybook.
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Entry #1091 – Friday, 12:09 AM
You ever notice how the world feels still just before a scream?
It’s like time holds its breath.
I live for that moment.
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To be continued…
About the Creator
E. hasan
An aspiring engineer who once wanted to be a writer .
The Devil's Cut
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By Matthew J. Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
How To Never Feel Pain
If you are reading this, that very likely means that you are alive, and the scary thing about being alive is that you can get hurt. Most of us don’t like doing it, and will go out of our way to try and avoid it, but once you’re born, it seems as though pain is inevitable- but not anymore! With this step-by-step guide, we will teach you how to avoid pain in your day-to-day life- not PHYSICAL pain obviously, we’re not wizards or anything(As far as YOU know…), but we CAN teach you how to not get hurt by others!
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Comments (1)
This is some seriously messed up stuff. You should probably get help or at least stop writing about it.