I've never felt this way before. Almost as if... I needed to take all of my anger, all of my pain, out on someone. They didn't necessarily need to deserve my ire, but they would recieve it non the less.
I walked the streets of Murderville, looking for a likely target. There, a fortune teller in the town square. He'd make an excellent victim. I went back to my house to plan the killing. From what I'd seen of him, he enjoyed combining tarot with a crystal ball. An interesting choice.
It had been difficult, but eventually I acquired all of the items needed to make the bomb. I filled the crystal ball with nitro glycerin, and wired up the timer and detonator. Interestingly enough, with the reflections in the ball, it would look like the numbers were floating in the center of the ball. A nice touch, if I don't say so myself. I made sure to cover up before leaving, to be safe if there were any witnesses.
I walked up to his stand. "May I partake in a reading of my future?" I asked politely, trying to get him to lower his guard. He, of course, accepted, and led me inside the tent. He asked me to shuffle the tarot deck, a task which I handled deftly and efficiently, then handed the cards back. He had closed his eyes in order to draw the cards, and, knowing that this was an opportunity I couldn't afford to miss, I switched the crystal ball on the table with the one I had in my bag, set the timer to 10 seconds, and silently left the tent.
The tent went up in an enourmous fireball, and all I could think of at that moment was "Highway to Hell", which I started humming to myself. Already, I was busy contemplating who my next victim was going to be.
About the same time as my first murder, another murder happened across town. Could there be two people here who both lost it simultaneously? I thought to myself. The next day, the townsfolk formed a lynch mob, and killed two completely innocent people. These people don't waste time... I'd better be more careful from now on.
I hadn't visited the chapel yet, and, as it usually appeared abandoned, it seemed a likely spot to get away with another murder. I grabbed my favorite sidearm, my engraved 1911, and proceeded to the chapel. If I intended to kill someone, why not make it personal?
I walked in, and headed straight to the altar. It seemed that the priest was going to sacrifice himself to save one of the people who were killed. I couldn't let that happen. I walked up behind him, stopped, then said "Well, Priest, it would seem you have become the one in need of saving. Though I doubt -" I wasn't able to finish my sentence, as he charged me, dagger raised. He had already gone 2 paces before I was able to recover enough to pull the trigger, hitting him square in the chest twice. He dropped, and started to raise the dagger to use on himself. Presumably to complete the ritual. I couldn't let that happen.
I shot him in the hand, causing the dagger to fly out of his grip, turned, and walked out of the chapel without a backward glance.
It was about three days later before I decided to venture the streets again. I brought along my handgun, as I was permitted to carry in Murderville. As I passed the local tavern, a man stepped out of the shadows of the alleyway. "Don't even think about turning around. I know what you've done." He said, his voice like the cold of an open grave.
Without turning around, I said "What are they paying you for this? I doubt any of the locals has the balls to confront me alone." It was safe to assume this man was a bounty hunter. Who else would be so sure, so confident in their abilities when confronting a killer?
"What they are paying me is none of your affair. Drop your gun, and come quietly."
"You know I can't do that." I said, as I turned and attempted to kill him before he could kill me. I had barely mad it halfway around, and my gun had barely left it's holster when the first round struck. It hit me high in my gun arm, passing through and into my chest. I had never even heard of someone having that much speed on the draw.
Losing my balance as I completed my spin, I dropped to one knee, trying vainly to make my hand close around the grip of my gun. He walked up to me, and looked me right in the eye. "I know." He said, almost sadly, before firing again.
The last thing I saw was the muzzle flash. I deserved more...