Possessed

No matter how many times he entered the cellar, Don couldn't help but feel repulsed by the stench that emanated from the bodies he'd gathered and hung up. Each and every time he walked down those steps into his dungeon of sorts, the sting in his nostrils reminded him of the harsh reality of his craving and lust for violence and murder. The hanging bodies were his trophies; most devoid of blood, having had the rich red liquid drained from their bodies since his act of slaughter, only for the various marks of his kills to remain present on the torsos of his victims.

While the smell remained an unwelcome addition to his schedule, Don could not help but stare proudly at the mutilated bodies on display, all his own handy work and growing by the day. It had begun just a week ago, Don finally accepting that his life was filled with nothingness, a big blank void in the world around him and he was built for a higher calling. Ironically, he worked the graveyard shift at the power plant not far from his home, a job that required no social skills and was ultimately one for the loneliest of souls.

Whilst wandering around the premises, torch in hand, Don stared into the darkness only to be overcome by a blinding light in the distance, the sort that blurs your vision when you turn a light on after a long sleep. Quickly disappearing, the light was completely unexplainable but it maintained some sort of possession within Don, the kind that instilled a level of hatred in a man who was usually passive and kept himself to himself.

In the nights that followed, it soon became apparent that some sought after materials had been drafted in at the plant and a series of potential thieves were on the prowl to steal said items for their own personal. Little did they know that a newly formed Don was what stood between them and a potential profit, and he had no limits in delivering some good old fashioned pain their way since his experience.

This new-found violently possessed individual saw a plethora of thieves and low-lives looking to find their way past him, each sealing their impending deaths, becoming more violent with every night that passed. The first kill, one that you would imagine could cause the most angst, left Don unaffected, with the spirit inside of him leaving him devoid of any emotion as he beat the hooded individual repeatedly over the head with his baton to leave but a bloody pulp and caved in skull engulfed in blood. These weren't so much murders as they were slaughters, Don experimenting with his methods of dispatching, ranging from a fire axe to utilising the restricted toxic chemicals to sadistically torture his victims before he performed the final acts on them.

His latest victim had seen a rather sadistic end having been left with stumps for legs as Don hid in the shadows, only for the potential thief to walk by him and have his legs sliced firmly in half, leaving little more than a screaming torso in the pool of blood and severed limbs on the ground. Not content with his delivery of punishment, Don then found some pliers and proceeded to perform his own brand of dentistry, yanking the victim's teeth out one-by-one, each accompanied by a deathening squeal of pain and subsequent blood. It satisfied Don's current state of mind and concluded with the maniacal killer plunging the used pliers into the forehead of the latest in line for hell's minions.

Pliers still remaining in the forehead, the body was hung on one of the few remaining hooks left without a trophy as Don proudly stood with his arms folded, admiring his handy work. His personality change in recent times had culminated in this new tapestry of lifeless bodies, egged on by this unknown presence from within his very soul.

As he removed himself from the joy of his handy work, Don slowly made his way up the stairs to the realms of his normal home life, only to be interrupted by the crashing sound of his front door being met with metal. It was the police, obviously having finally crept up on him following his rampage of death and sadism.

"We know you're in here Don, give yourself up or we will shoot you down!"

Don's heart pounded in what was the first moment since the light incident that he had felt truly human again. He felt his whole body freeze and the air in his lungs weaken as he fell to his knees, ready to give himself up. Just as the police pushed their way through the house to find the cellar, Don felt the air released from his body and fell to the floor, blacking out...

Waking up after what seemed like an eternity, Don found himself in the premises of the power plant, the tarmac underneath his feet and the huge structures of the formidable site in front of his very eyes. He also noticed a figure, very much similar to his stature, dressed in a security guard's outfit and slowly made his way toward this unknown person. As he approached, Don suddenly realised that he wasn't quite himself and, holding up his hands, was shocked to see straight through his limbs. Don had passed over to the other side and now it was his turn to possess another unwitting victim to carry on the work of the afterlife...