The Chair

In Promo by Kaine Knightlord

Power can be an incentive. You present a man with enough power, enough prestige, and he will cut off his own pinky to achieve it.

A man watches a serial killer documentary and begins thinking “I can do better than him.”

So, he gets a mask, a knife and begins stalking the streets.

He stalks his first victim. But he hesitates, just for a moment, as the first spurt of blood splashes his face, but the thrill overtakes him, and he kills in the most savage of manners.

He rests, reliving the moment like a drug addict, enjoying the thought of what he did.

But like every addict, the high wears off and he’s out again, stalking.

And again, a spurt of blood, and the ecstasy that goes along with it.

He sees the headlines of a killer on the loose, and a city in terror as he unleashes his horror upon them.

The high becomes more fleeting, and he kills and kills and kills.

But eventually a mistake occurs.

He makes the wrong move, leaves too much up to chance.

He is now sitting in the electric chair, and awaits the flip of the switch.

You know that high, don’t you? You’ve experienced it once before. The adrenaline the terror provides, the fear as a city waits for the moment to come when they wake up the next morning to the screams and cries of the broken families.

You’ve donned a mask of a hundred people before you, and you’ve done the same as everyone of them.

The high is powerful, isn’t it? It’s a driving force behind everything you do. You want that high more than anything, and have chased it like a dragon.

But you’re starting to slip now. The kills aren’t coming as easy, the high even less.

But you need it, more than life itself. You need to feel the terror of those who hear your name, the fear that at any point you could choose them as the next victim, to spill the blood and hear the screams.

So, you take the chance once again.

You go for the biggest target you’ve ever thought of yourself. Your fate now lies on the next victim. The crème de la crème of victims.

But you went too big, bit off more than you could chew.

Now I sit at the switch. I’ve seen it all, the horrors you’ve committed. It was fun watching. It was fun seeing what a man in a mask could do to a city as bleak as ours. You went for a prize too great, a victim too powerful.

You tried to live up to your name sake, to be the Impaler.

I watched as you begged and pleaded. You now feeling every bit of terror and horror, screaming like the victims you’ve piled up screamed. The echo in our ears of the souls reaching out.


Your switch is flipped, and now you’re nothing.

I’m sure this is a shock of a lifetime.