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Angel of Death

Other men, lesser men, measure power in terms of money or political influence or sexual conquests. But I have seen what true power is, and it is not found in checkbooks, voting booths, or bedrooms. No, true power is the power of life and death. Every time I end a life, I end a universe. Yes, a whole universe. The private cosmos that had been their world. The earth, sun, and stars, human history, culture, and art....all of it had existed, for them, only in their mind. Now they're dead, and, for them, those things exist no more. That is the secret I have learned. To wield power, ultimate power—the power to erase existence, void reality, blot out stars and galaxies with one stroke—it is not necessary to bring on Armageddon. It is necessary only to take a life. The God of the Old Testament is said to have created the world in six days. But I can wipe out a world in less than a minute, and I can do it whenever I please. Who, then, is the more powerful? Who is the greater god? The creator of one world—or the destroyer of many? _____________________________________________ *Discord: https://discord.gg/TeTKhzp Why not try my other book: King of Film or Rebirth of the Entertainment Giant

David_Tieku · Horror
Not enough ratings
119 Chs

Catch Me If You Can

After a moment's hesitation, Kim Hyeok selected the copy of the first audio cassette he'd received. He loaded it in the tape recorder. His finger pressed the button marked Play. Tape hiss rose in his ears like the phantom ocean caught in a conch shell. An anonymous official identified the tape as a duplicate before reciting the case number and other details.

Then a louder hiss sizzled through the headphones, signaling the start of the dubbed portion of the tape.

Baek Eunhye's voice faded in. She'd stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from her morning shower, and the killer had grabbed her from behind. He must have told her not to scream for help, that the first sound she made above a whisper would mean death. Kim Hyeok could picture the young pregnant woman standing just outside the bathroom doorway in her blue terry-cloth towel, drawing shallow scared breaths as the Reaper hissed in her ear and held the knife—if it was a knife—close to her throat.