Poetic Imagination
Her Name Was Cally

Her name was Cally is a interesting story. It is about a man obsessed, over ridden by his guilt.

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Her Name Was Cally

By Jaystone

Simple things in life are disturbing, this I have to admit. Maybe everything would disappear if I will it away. Nothing seems to be what I represent. I try in life, but does life try for me? I could sit here and tell you bullshit stories about how I was abused as a child, how drugs influenced my life, how I have raped and murdered 15 women. Would this make you wanna meet me? Probably not, but hell it was worth a shot.

I am a monster created by the all-seeing Madison Avenue. I have pondered the greatness of god, and I realize he bores me. Why should I worship someone or something that has made me into the shit I am? Fuck god and Jesus, or whomever everyone seems to worship. I am god, isnt this what Shirley McLain stated? I am in control of my life. Nothing controls me.

My erratic thinking has me perplexed. I never chose to be like this, they chosen me. These women. You know the ones who I had to rape and murder. They didnt want to be my companion. I know give me your theories of serial killers, and how they need a companion. No, I am not a fag. I detest those fuckers, but I guess they are ok as long as they dont wanna stick their cocks in my ass or mouth. Back to my thinking. Sorry for getting off on those gay people.

I think the one girl I murdered whose name was Cally I think, meant a lot to me. She was my friend. All the others seemed distant. Cally had red hair, small breasts and a nice round ass, and wore glasses. We met at the Jesse James Saloon. I saw her and realized she was the one. I had to have her. I know you think I am being selfish, fuck you. I needed her. I bought her a Southern Comfort and Mountain Dew, which is what she was drinking. I also ordered myself one.

We sat and talked about everything. She has three kids, two boys ages 6 and 4 and a girl 3. I told her how I always wanted kids, and that I cant have any. Really I do love kids. She was so nice. I fell in love her at first sight I believe. She just had that attraction which made my heart thump like a drum. Know what I mean. I asked her if she wanted to go to a dinner and movie. She was eager. We set up our date for the next Friday.

Our date went well. We ate at the Bluff View. I had a sirloin steak well done, with salad bar. She had a porterhouse I believe with the salad bar. We drank some cheap ass wine disguised as a fancy label. I wanted her. I needed her. But I think our attraction was not mutual. I think she was using me for my money. I barely had enough for the date, but I think she thought I was rich. This had me perplexed. Did she only want me for material gain, or did she love me for who I was?

We went two weeks before we got in touch again. I was scared she never wanted me. I wrote her poetry in my notebooks. I will recite you one if you want.


She was as the most high,

Eager and willing to give me desire,

I stand in her chapel destined for love

Giving her my will to become as one

Her face made me melt

Her body made me feel heat

I needed her soul for my collection

A treasure I cant rid of

She wants it I know

I will have her

She will have me

We will become as one.

Lovely poem huh. I write shit all the time. I really meant what I wrote. I would have her.

I called her house and left messages about 45 times. I would call, her son would answer, and I would grow nervous and said I would call back. I am a morose of a man. I cant seem to grasp that I can be who I want to be.

I drove up to her house on February the 9th. A Monday I believe. She was alone. Her kids were in school and daycare. I asked her if she wanted to go to eat some lunch. She went. We ate at a Mcdonalds. I then knew that this was my chance to have her. As we went to my car, I pulled a .45 and held it to her head. I said I hate to do this Cally, but you are now mine. She was in fear I could tell, and I hated to make her shed a tear. After all I loved her.

My place was a mess. I tied her up in the master bedroom and I began to force my love upon her. We made love, even though she was crying. I didnt know why she was crying. I thought she wanted my love. I knew I wanted hers.

I kept her well fed. I am not an animal as everyone in your fucking media thinks. I took care of her. Ok I will tell you the details now. She somehow got the gag I had in her mouth out. She began to scream. I told her to please be quiet. I pleaded with her. She began kicking and screaming. I fucking panicked. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the sink, which was used when I cut a cake I bought on the clearance rack. I took the knife and plunged it to her throat. Please Cally be quiet. I pleaded. She refused and I in order to keep her had to kill her. Give me a moment please.

I stabbed her about thirty times. She was dead on the first jab, but I needed to be sure. Her death was the death of me, which is why I turned myself in to you officers. She is in my closet wrapped in a new dress and new blanket. If you go there please tell her I love her, and that I am sorry. She may not talk to you, but I know she will listen. Ok. Thank you.