They Are Taunting You

THE SERIAL KILLER AND VAMPIRE GUARDIAN ANGEL^TM DIARIES
Copyright Lia Scott Price

They Are Taunting You

I'm your guardian angel. I came to you while you knelt by your bedside, praying to me. I'm here to tell you how to solve your problem. Look around you. Do you believe that people taunt you and make fun of you everyday? I know you are depressed about this. You get up everyday filled with anxieties. You hate them.

You wish it would all go away. You pray to me to make it stop. Those two silly girls at the place where you work. Those catty, gossipy bitches who, every time you try
to make an kind of small talk, roll their eyes and snicker. You try to tell yourself that they are young and immature, and are only in their twenties, who are too judgmental about people, and who are just snobby nobodies. But you can't put up with it, can you?

You pray to me every night, for something as simple as for everyone to like you. Otherwise, life is not worth living. You want an end to your inner torture. Every day that you step out of your car to walk into that office, you wish that they weren't there, that they would just disappear. You can feel them watching your every move, whispering about you, laughing at you behind your back. I, as your guardian angel, have a solution. I have the answer to your prayer. See this knife? You are going to take it with you. You are going to go in early tomorrow morning, and you are going to smile at them. Yes, smile your biggest smile. Then you are going to walk up to each of them and stab them in the throat.

See, the throat is a great place to start. First, grab one by her hair and pull her head back. Don't worry about the other. She'll be too busy either screaming, in shock, or maybe still putting on her makeup. Then you drive that knife into your victim's throat. First, you'll here the gurgling. She won't be able to say anything, of course. I hope you wore something dark, because the blood is going to spray all over the place. Well, that doesn't matter.

But anyway, drive it deep until it comes out the other side of the neck. Or until it almost severs her arrogant head. I like to see that. Ah, now for the other one. She'll try to run off, of course. But in your rage, you find the strength to slam her against a wall and drive that knife into her stomach. Yes, twist it. Cut her open like a squealing pig. Watch how her eyes grow wide and she starts gasping for air. She isn't laughing at you now, is she? Notice too how neither of them begged for their lives. Well, they didn't have time to. I doubt the would give you that much respect. They don't even talk to you anyway. I bet they never saw it coming, huh?

And when you are done, I will put my hand on your shoulder and with my other hand, I will guide your arm upward, the one that holds the knife. Then I will whisper in your ear that your mission is done. You have done well. Now you will get your reward: freedom from pain. From your anxieties. Forever. The answer to all your prayers I was forced to listen to night after night after goddamn night. You will raise that knife high. That blade will glint under the fluorescent lights and you will be mesmerized by it. Then, at the exact moment when I tell you to, you will drive that knife into your heart. You will watch the blood spurt from your chest as your vision fades.

You will feel peace, comfort...no pain. You won't feel anything as I drive my fangs into your neck. And when you are dead, I will feed on your two victims. I will drain all of you of your blood. You see, unlike a traditional vampire, a Vampire Guardian Angel can drain a body, dead or alive, of every drop of blood, of fluid from every tissue, and be just fine. I could just bite all of you and be done with it, but it's more fun this way. My mission as a guardian angel is to first be a mercy killer, so I can make it look like a murder-suicide to cover up my tracks. Then, I can feed. It's your fault. You prayed to me. And I found you.

I Hate My Job

THE SERIAL KILLER AND VAMPIRE GUARDIAN ANGEL^TM DIARIES
Copyright Lia Scott Price

I Hate My Job

We guardian angels hate our job.

I hate my job. I hate having to work under someone else's command. God just orders us around to act as babysitters for all his spoiled brats. Take that two-faced, foul-mouthed, snotty girl who's always on her cell phone with her boyfriend. I know she can't live without him. She's obsessively attached to him. She can't stand a minute away from him and she's on the phone every 5 minutes, checking up on him. If he left her, she'd kill herself. I know what she's thinking.

You think I like watching over people like her? These spoiled bitches? It's a damn shitty job. She has so much bad attitude, I'd love to just cut her open right then and there to shut that flapping mouth of hers. She'll talk anywhere on that cell phone--her car, movie theater---anywhere. I'm surprised that loser boyfriend hasn't gone and killed himself just to get away from her.

But that's another story. For now, she's my focus.

I could get her to kill herself in less than a minute, but I like to torture her by putting paranoid thoughts in her head. Mainly, big-time insecurities and suspicions that her boyfriend's cheating on her. I know it drives her empty mind crazy. And when she's freaking out and in a panic, I wait until she breaks down and calls out for help---through her prayers of desperation.

Then I would come to her and whisper in her ear at her lowest point--the best time for mind control, of course. I would say to her, "Why the fuck are you such a stuck-up, sorry excuse for a human? That's why he's cheating on you. You think you're better than anyone else, but you're not.

People hate you. You don't deserve to live. You think people are beneath you. But it's really you who is the loser in life. That's why he's leaving you. You're not worth it." I'd play with her mind. I'd tell her how horrible she is. I'd tell her that her loser lover is leaving her for someone with a much better attitude. People like her are really insecure about themselves. I'd play on what she fears the most. No amount of attitude can save her from slicing her own throat.

Oh, I'm not being self-righteous or arrogant. I do think I am better than humans since, after all, I am immortal, supernatural. I'm simply targeting those of you who are sorry excuses for human beings, just so I can get all of you out of MY life. Have you listened to yourselves? Every damn day and night, it's gimme this, gimme that, what you want, who you want, why you want it or you'll so gonna die, why you're so miserable unless your life is the way you want it, or please-make-my- boyfriend-girlfriend-lover-spouse- dog-come back to me, now.

Why do you think we're so tired of you whining to us? We guardian angels have feelings too! We can feel anger and frustration. We can hate our jobs just like you complaining humans do. But here's the thing--I think our bigger purpose is not to save you, but to weed out all you whiners, complainers, despairing, depressed, hopeless people, those of you who are so weak and have given up, and sending you all to your gory deaths.

Honestly? it's the most satisfying feeling. It's like walking away from a job that you, well, hate.

Snapped

THE SERIAL KILLER AND VAMPIRE GUARDIAN ANGEL^TM DIARIES
Copyright Lia Scott Price

Snapped

Your significant other enrages you, but you keep it hidden inside. Every morning, as you both carpool to work, he's angry, nitpick, nagging, and generally miserable to be around, and that smooth jazz music he always has on doesn't help either. You want to push him out of the moving car. You have fantasies of getting a phone call that he's died in a horrible accident. You stare at him as he sleeps and you want to put a pillow on his head and suffocate him. That is how much you hate him.

The snotty kid who serves coffee at the local coffee shop is a sexist bastard. He'll greet the guys enthusiastically, boast loudly about stuff he has, and ignore the other customers in line, and treat the "hot girls" special, but when it comes to you "ordinary" people, he refuses to smile, he rolls his eyes, and treats you like you are an annoyance in his day. And you stand there thinking,

"Really? They hire people like this? This is customer service?" You want to burn his face with scalding hot water, leave him scarred, and let him know how it feels to be judged. But oh, you also want to go further than that. You want to take his skull and crush it, as you pour hot, scalding coffee into the cavity of his brain. You want to watch him writhe in pain. You keep thinking "he deserves it. I'm making the world a better place. Less people like him around makes life better." These are the thoughts I plant in your head after you say your prayers. I give you the answers.

Just get rid of them. This is why you have us guardian angels. We give you less conventional, creative, and effective solutions to your problems. Just get rid of them. Less work for us if you do it yourself.

Why did you pray to me? Because these people make your life miserable. Therefore, you make my life as a guardian angel miserable. Really miserable. So, here's what I'll do. I know, I know. I'm supposed to tell you that everything will be OK, that I'll make things better, that somehow I will miraculously make your damn significant other nicer, sweeter, less angry; or that I'll give a gentle lesson in better manners to that coffee shop guy, and somehow, he'll be a better person.

Really? This is what you pray to me about? Not about world hunger, not about saving the polar bears, but because you can't put up with the low-lifes of the world? And you want me to save you from...well...this? But I understand how you weak and miserable humans can just snap over anything. But you know, that's so cliche, and it doesn't happen that way. I'm not a people-fixer. I'm not a damn therapist. I'm a supernatural being. I can control things the way i want to, and I can make people do anything. Including you.

So there you are, beating that coffee shop guy over the head with an axe you so thoughtfully brought this morning, and I loved your dramatic entrance, by the way, screaming at him that you're tired of his asshole attitude. I told you to split his skull in half. Funny how dark blood matched that dark roast. I even expected the people in line who had to put up with his BS every morning to clap.

As for your significant other, I was impressed how you showed up back to his workplace after you dropped him off, you in your bloody clothes, and how you forced him back into the car. For the first time, he was completely speechless. For once. I watched you both as you drove a a very high speed into a concrete barrier. Of course I put that thought in our head. I can't leave you alive to whine again about something now, can I? I'm such a bad, bad guardian angel.

I Don't Save You

THE SERIAL KILLER AND VAMPIRE GUARDIAN ANGEL^TM DIARIES
Copyright Lia Scott Price

I Don't Save You

I am a Vampire Guardian Angel.

I drink the blood of the slain.

I especially like the mean girls. Their blood is so vile, but tasty. Kinda like really bad wine that you for some reason can't stop drinking.

BTW, Do you think that we guardian angels catch you when you slip? Do you ever think that we stop you from falling? I hear you humans swear up and down that "my guardian angel must have been watching over me. He caught me before I ate shit." Wrong. So wrong. We let you fall. We push you. If only you knew what we really do.

Nothing is an accident. We trip you up, you fall into the path of an oncoming car. We like that sound your body makes as it hits a moving object, especially at a high speed.

See, nothing is an accident. Everything that goes wrong is our way of, well, trying to kill you. Especially if you do pray to us for help.

That's my beacon. That's how I find you. I prefer to drink your blood after I've killed you in one of those "accidents". It makes it easier for me to drain you. And no one suspects anything. So many people, so much stupidity in the world. That's good for us angels, bad for you humans.

See you soon.

Kill Them All

THE SERIAL KILLER AND VAMPIRE GUARDIAN ANGEL^TM DIARIES
Copyright Lia Scott Price

Kill Them All

You hate your foster parents, don't you?

You say that the reason you are in therapy is because of them. It's because of a lifetime of criticism, of no emotional support. To you, they are still 5- year olds, at least emotionally. They always bully you. They never support what you choose to do.

You are ashamed of them.

You get tired of them getting pissed off at you for every little mistake you do. You are never good enough in their eyes. They made you into a very angry, bitter, insecure person. Just like they are.

You wish they never adopted you.

Each night you pray to me for guidance. You still believe that a Guardian Angel is there to guide you and tell you what to do.

And I, as a Vampire Guardian Angel, know exactly what I want you to do.

So I come to you, and tell you, that for every thing they have done to you, you give them one stab each, with this knife.

I whisper in your ear as you stab your immature, selfish, ugly foster parents. That's it. Show them how you really feel about them.

And when you are done, I show you how to stab yourself.

And then I drink your blood, and theirs as well.

Hey, it's a living. You never know who you just prayed to.

Your Wasted Life

THE SERIAL KILLER AND VAMPIRE GUARDIAN ANGEL^TM DIARIES
Copyright Lia Scott Price

Your Wasted Life

Every weekend, you hang out with the guys at your boring family barbecues. You talk about work, about cars, about sports, and not much else. You purchase your toys and show them off to the boys. Then, after they are gone, you obediently follow your nagging wife's orders. What's the point? After you work your ass off for her, you basically get nothing in return. You, in your 30's, are nothing but a provider for your wife.

She simply sees you as the money machine.

You are under scrutiny daily from your wife, your in-laws, and your own parents. One little failure in living up to any expectation, from not getting the right kind of bread at the grocery store to anything your bratty little wife comes up with is grounds for a major tantrum. Then here come your in-laws, mad as hell that you disappointed their little princess---yet again.

Was it all worth it? This life of yours? You will never get a chance to live out your own dreams.

You are now a slave to the overly-demanding family you married into. They tell you the house isn't big enough. The car isn't fancy enough. You don;t make enough money at your job. Every day, it's always a demand that you work much harder to provide their brat with bigger and better things. And if you don't, then you're embarrassing the family.

And your wife--of course she won't let you do anything else, despite how hard you work. You will never get her permission to go to bars, to a night out with the boys, or pursue your own hobbies. She keeps you on the old ball and chain.

Your resentment has been growing. And in your despair, you called for me.

I, as your guardian angel, came to you with a solution.

You take that chain of yours and wrap it around that spoiled neck of that wife of yours. Then you take the ball, or axe, or hammer--whatever is hand---and smash in that skull of hers.

A few more whacks, and you are free.

But not for long.

Enjoy your first taste of freedom in several years since you married the brat. Because it doesn't last long as I grab your own neck and slice it open. Then I drink from it, as you gasp your last breath.

Isn't freedom sweet?

And that is what I really do as a guardian angel. I inspire rage and homicides, and even suicides, among those who call to me. i am the ultimate answer to your prayers. And I am also a vampire.

Your despair helps me find you, and your blood feeds me.

Pathetic

THE SERIAL KILLER AND VAMPIRE GUARDIAN ANGEL^TM DIARIES
Copyright Lia Scott Price

Pathetic

You are the type of human who looks at people who make mistakes as somewhat "defective", as a social outcast. You lose respect for them, judge them unforgivingly and whisper and laugh behind their backs, as if you yourself are incapable of doing nothing wrong. (You tend to blame others for your own mistakes.) You treat people as if they are stupid and not worth talking to or socializing with, because you are too concerned with your cliques, your status, your image.

You look upon others who don't share your interests or who are different from you and your buddies as outcasts. You are petty. You are pathetic.

I'm not being self-righteous. I'm just an observer.

But you have your insecurities. You have things you pray about. You have your fears and worries.

I look for people like you: petty, insecure people who run with the same immature crowd.

That's why I'm a Serial Killer Guardian Angel.

People like you are big game to me. I like to hunt you down.

First, I watch you show off and strut and hang out with guys and talk shop. But at the same time, I listen to your inner fears, your measuring and comparing yourself silently to your buddies.

I hear the same thing over and over again from people like you, nothing new there. It bores me.

But it's the little inner prayers I listen for. The ones in the back of your mind. The ones I hear over and over again. You want a guardian angel to solve all your problems when you get home. And you do have problems. You don't seek therapy. Instead, you seek the help of a guardian angel.

And part of the hunt is putting you out of your misery, so that the world would be a better place--at least for me. Your miserable, inner whining gets to me.  Of course I'm jealous of you -- of your toys, that is. Your fancy sports car. Your designer wardrobe.

We guardian angels also want the perks of human life. So late at night, after i've stalked you for a few days, I come to you. I stand at your bedside. I listen to you pray silently, as your wife sleeps.

She will never hear you make a sound as I wrap my hands around your neck and slowly choke you as you drift off to sleep. I make sure you breathe your last, and that your heart stops.  And oh, I can make it look like a heart attack. I like to cover my tracks.

When your wife wakes up, you won't. She'll find out later that you died of a heart attack.

Of course, no one will ever believe it was my doing. I am the cause of thousands of heart attacks everywhere. And you humans never suspect guardian angels, do you?

She still clutches a guardian angel statue as she weeps for you. Pathetic.

Go ahead. Pray to me. This is how I'll answer.