Irish Spring : Scary Stories – Short Horror Story

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For the past two weeks, I’ve been working on building a good rapport with him, and now he lets me enter his cell whenever I want. He’s been locked up on Riker’s Island for three months because he beats his wife, and I’m here because it’s an excellent place to find guys like him. The life of an inmate is very dull and routine.

I wake up early to make sure I’m in line to get breakfast. They’re serving Cinnamon Toast Crunch today, a high commodity in jail. After I’m done with breakfast, I walk over to his cell to make sure he’s awake for our morning outdoor recreation. Our morning consists of basketball and walking around the yard. While walking around, he likes to talk about the beatings his wife has suffered at his hands; according to him, he once beat her into a miscarriage.

We arrived back at the housing area just in time for lunch. It’s Chicken day, so if you’re late getting back, someone will probably take your food. After lunch, most inmates head to the day room to watch old episodes of the Maury Povich show. I must admit this has become one of my favorite shows. Lock-in is usually announced at 9:00 pm, and by 9:10 pm, everyone is in their cell.

I break out of my cell and head towards his, where he’s already expecting me. Inside his cell, we talk about life on the outside and drink prison wine. After drinking for 30 minutes, I told him that I had to run to my cell to grab something, and when I returned, he was sitting at his desk writing a letter to his wife.

I told him I’d proofread the letter once he’s finished so that he could take his time. When he turned around to continue Writing, I placed him in a chokehold. Within two minutes, he was unconscious, and when he came to, he was tied down to his bed facing the ceiling. He had a look of complete shock and terror when he awoke to me standing over him. When I went to my cell, I grabbed a few bars of Irish Spring soap and a sock. I began to pack the sock full of soap and compress it until it was hard. He was still in disbelief about what was happening to him, but after the first blow to his face shattered his jaw, he knew he was in real danger. He tried to break free, but eventually, the repeated blows to his head left him paralyzed. After several more crushing blows, he was dead, and I returned to my cell. I didn’t take his life in the name of Justice or because of what he did to his wife. I kill because the look of shock and terror in their eyes gives me the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known. I am a serial killer, and this is my design.

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