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a story for creative writing.

corrections and feedback would be great!

The cold air of the dead autumn night was sharp on my soft skin. My nose and ears became numb and raw as I stood and waited. I waited in the dark of the night in a garbage littered alley. Black trash bags lined the alley along with a few dumpsters and blended with the shadows where the unknown lay. The only people around were hooded and grimy. I wasn’t afraid of them though. How could I be afraid of my own type? I could hear the cries of murdered bodies that once lied in these dumpsters. The sharp cry of crack babies that had been thrown along the side of alley with the rest of the garbage echoed through my head as I looked around. I didn’t want to be a part of this anymore; no more would I take care of my “boss’s” business. Killing people then cutting out vital organs is not what my mother would have wanted me to do. What does that matter though, she has left me. I no longer wanted to be cutting fingertips off and dispersing them through the trash bags in the alley. Did I even want to do it in the first place? Either way it became an obsession. This is not what I destined to do, was it? The past cries seemed to get louder and louder the more that my sane conscious took over. My ears felt like they were beginning to bleed. What would I say tonight though? I no longer felt the rush of watching life ebb out of the eyes of my boss’s victims. It actually became more like work and less pleasure.
        I could not sleep in this alley anymore. The voices of those who I have slain would never let me rest my eyes in their resting ground again. Every time I would shut my eyes I’d see the faces, the blood, and the organs. Nothing made me more disappointed to be myself. What else could I do though? This is the only life I know and can succeed in. How could I let myself walk among the innocence and purity of the rest of the people in my city? They aren’t innocent or pure though either. Only the children who saw the world as it should be.
Headlights beamed on the corner of the brick building and began to light the alley. The car came around corner and the headlights flooded my pathetic home. It was my boss. He had arrived in his car, most likely with a person for me in the trunk. He stopped the car, stepped out without shutting the door behind him, popped the trunk and didn’t say a word. The trunk lights lit up a young girl, about 12 years old with duct tape over her mouth. She just looked up at me and just stared with big wet eyes. I didn’t know what to do.
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