Cannibal Man Read online

  Cannibal Man

  By

  Dorothy Knight

  Damnation Books, LLC.

  P.O. Box 3931

  Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998

  www.damnationbooks.com

  Cannibal Man

  by Dorothy Knight

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-975-3

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-976-0

  Cover art by: Ash Arceneaux

  Edited by: Roberta Antunez

  Copyright 2013 Dorothy Knight

  Printed in the United States of America

  Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights

  Worldwide English Language Print Rights

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedicated to Sir Gregory and Lady Caroline.

  Thank you for your patience, love and understanding.

  And to dearest Tonykins,

  Who has always been there.

  A big thank you to Hilke Janse van Rensburg, Regional Court Prosecuter, who explained all the ins and outs of the judicial system to me.

  A big thank you also to Tony Mays, who helped check facts; and Essie and Karel van Wyk, who kept my body and soul together.

  “Woe to the worthless shepherd,

  who deserts the flock!

  May the sword strike his arm and his right eye!

  May his arm be completely withered,

  his right eye totally blinded!”

  —Zechariah 11:17

  Prologue

  The blade spun on his thumbnail. Calmly he waited, keeping his breathing deep and low. Crickets screeched. Dogs yowled aimlessly in adjacent yards. He sat under a massive tree in the back of her garden. The tree took up just about all the space in the garden. It is a nice hiding place. The midsummer’s humidity made the air hot and clammy. He was slightly irritated. His fingers played with the knife—thinking of what was to come.

  The few stars and parts of constellations he could see through the leaves told him it was way past midnight. As a farm boy he would lie for hours at night gazing at the stars. He felt safer under them than in his bedroom, where all kinds of evil things and thoughts disturbed his nights. He tried not to think of the exciting time ahead. He felt his phallus growing hard. He stroked it through his pants.

  “Not yet,” he said to himself, as if talking to an annoying youngster. He couldn’t afford any mistakes. He mustn’t get caught. Not now, anyhow. He was still having too much fun.

  He parked his car at a bar some two kilometers away, had two drinks at the bar and made sure that the barman noticed him. Then he grabbed the first desperate looking woman and dragged her onto the dance floor. Four dances later, he walked her to the bar, ordered drinks and then excused himself to go to the bathroom.

  She was only too glad to guard his drink. He was by far the best looking man in the bar. She noticed his eyes first, light blue, like a clear swimming pool on a hot day. His hair was pitch black, his nose straight and his lips full. His shoulders were wide and his arms strong when he steered her across the dance floor. Ever so tall, she rested her head on his chest during a slow dance. She could hear the slow beat of his heart.

  The bathroom door was next to the door leading into the kitchen. It was easy to slip out through the kitchen back door. The kitchen staff barely noticed him. They were busy frying, slicing, dicing, screaming…

  He walked to his car and retrieved a small backpack from behind the rear wheels. He didn’t keep it in the car when he was not there. One never knows. This way nobody could claim that it was his. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, pulled his cap deep over his face and walked with long strides facing the pavement. He was careful not to make eye contact with the other pedestrians. There were many people on the streets, mainly students. It was beginning February, so students were out enjoying the last heat before the chilling winter set in. Groups of drunken students giggled and howled as they took up the whole pavements. There were a few, solo walkers stumbling their way back to their rooms. He walked neither too fast nor too slow, yet deliberately, like a student going home after a night class.

  He knew she would be fast asleep by now. A lot of lonely people choose to stay near the student dwellings as there would always be something happening. These people seem unable to entertain themselves. They expect others to entertain them. He considered people like that the emotional and spiritual parasites of life. People like Wills, who suck and suck at one’s soul till nothing is left. They then throw you aside, but not for long. They hover by one’s recovering side, only to suck up the little life one musters in mending.

  Her light went out two hours ago. He put the knife back into his backpack and stretched tall as he got up. He walked around to the back of the house, careful not to bump into anything. She had several benches placed in her garden. In the middle of the front lawn was a bird bath. The moon was down and he could only see the outlines of objects. As he walked he took a pair of workman’s gloves from his pocket and pulled it over his hands.

  He found her bathroom window without a problem. Bathroom windows, for some reason, are always smaller than windows in other rooms. It also had frosted glass. The window was left open a few inches. She probably has a cat. Carefully, he unwound the latch and opened the window completely. He then took the burglar bar in both hands and with one powerful push, ripped it out of its inferior spot welding. A gentle clank drifted harmlessly into the night. He held his breath as he waited for a reaction. Nobody stirred. Nothing happened. He carefully pulled the burglar bar through the window and placed it upright on the ground, next to the wall.

  Using the burglar bar as a stepladder, he lifted his tall body into the bathroom with one pull. He climbed through the window with ease. Her cat hissed and scattered bewildered out of sight. He could hear it running down the hallway. It rattled him for a moment. He inhaled sharply. For a moment, he sat on the edge of the bath to compose himself. Playtime was about to start. He must get his head right. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt. He meticulously folded it and placed it on the side of the bath. He took his time undressing himself. As his pants dropped to the floor he stroked his hard penis. He was getting high on the anticipation. Completely naked, he placed his clothes in a neat pile. He ripped a condom out of its aluminum packet, slipped it onto his penis and dropped the wrapper on the floor. Only then did he take his gloves off.

  Now for the final touch! He took a plastic container from his bag and climbed into the shower. He lifted the lid and immediately the heavy stench of the pig feces filled the room. He dipped his huge hand into the container and scooped out a handful. With his flat hand, he smeared it over his chest with long strokes, then his face, head, hair, and finally his back and legs. He dropped the plastic container in the shower, picked up the knife, and with long strides, walked deliberately into her bedroom.

  She stirred in her sleep. He watched the bed for signs of her waking, his knife gripped tightly in his hand. She sighed and turned over. He exhaled slowly and composed himself. He walked to the side of the bed and sat on the edge next to her. He looked at her sleeping form under the sheet. He put the knife on the table next to her bed and then slowly pulled the sheet from her.

  As he expected, she was naked. Her fat stomach wobbled as she breathed. Her huge breasts flopped onto her arm. M
ost women do indeed look better with their clothes on, he thought to himself. Her mouth was slightly open. She was probably drooling. He deliberately thought of the pleasure ahead to restore his erection. With the rhythm of her deep breathing he began stroking himself.

  The stench woke her up. At first she thought that her cat might have vomited somewhere in her bedroom. The cat did it sometimes after eating a rat or gecko. She turned over and tried pulling the sheet tightly over her shoulders. It was stuck somewhere. She tucked harder. She wanted to pull it over her head as if to forget about the stench. In her befuddled mind she hoped the smell would go away. It didn’t. It got worse. She stretched for the bedside lamp and flicked it on.

  At first her eyes struggled to focus on the man sitting on her bed. She babbled incoherently, thinking she sounded clear. She was formulating thousands of questions in her mind. Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you naked? What stinks so? Why is your face smeared black? Why, why, why…Then she screamed. Not loudly, because phlegm was stuck in her throat. She cleared her throat and screamed again. This time her scream pierced her own ears.

  He just sat watching her. He was so close he could see how her nostril flared with every scream. She could see the filth on his face and that he was naked and looking at her with his light blue eyes. Her throat became sore and hoarse and she stopped screaming. She realized her screams floated useless into the dark night. Nobody paid any attention to her. Nobody cared—that was the sign of the times. The neighbors were either fast asleep or their television sets were on too loudly.

  She thought she could maybe reason with him. Maybe he just wanted money, her mobile phone, or perhaps the other electronic gadgets in her house.

  “What do you want?” was her first question. “What are you doing here?”

  She sat up, tried to pull the sheet over her nakedness and huddled closer to the wall. She struggled to speak and swallow. Her throat was raw. She watched him. His face was blank beneath all the dirt.

  “What do you want?” she managed louder this time.

  He slowly stroked his erect penis with one hand. She could see the filth from his hand rubbing off on the condom. He also wore surgical gloves. He is going to rape me. God help me…His eyes never left her face. He stroked himself for a long time, watching her mesmerized face.

  “I want to eat you,” he said flatly.

  He saw the fear on her face turn into puzzlement. He saw the way her eyes scanned his body. It made him feel warm inside. He knew he had a beautiful body.

  Slowly he leaned towards her. As her mouth opened to scream again, he grabbed her by the throat with both hands and squeezed the air out. She gurgled loudly for air as her hands slapped helplessly at him. His face hovered above hers. He placed his right hand in the middle of her throat and smashed her head hard against the wall. For a moment she was dazed. Using his left hand, he pulled her feet together and slowly dragged her down. He kept dragging her until she was underneath him. His eyes never left her face. Her body was as stiff as a rake, her hands still aimlessly flapping in the air.

  Once she slapped him really hard across the face. He looked down at her and tightened the grip around her throat. She felt the air being squeezed out of her. She gasped for air. Let him rape me, let him rape me…if I don’t struggle he will let me live!

  His left knee squeezed between her fat thighs, parting her wide. She knew that she was going to be badly bruised. Her arms were again swinging violently as she tried to fight him off. The flagging hands made slapping sounds as they landed on his back. Every slap just excited him even more.

  He grinned at her and she could see his perfect teeth. He lowered his pelvis onto her and she could feel his hard penis on her mound. His face was inches above hers. She tried shaking her head loose from his grip but it was useless. This man was huge and powerful. She gargled for air. His hips pushed fast into her. His mouth came down on hers and his lips touched her only slightly.

  She could feel his warm breath on her skin. She could smell the brandy on his breath…it gave her goose bumps. For a moment she amazed herself by feeling a surge of sexual pleasure. He momentarily released his grip on her throat and she gasped for air.

  Then he kissed her softly. At first, his tongue played on her lips, but slowly probed deeper into her mouth. It was incredibly sensual. She lay stunned underneath him—frozen stiff. He never closed his eyes. His tongue flicked over her lips before prodding deeper into her mouth again. This is nice. I am getting turned on.

  Then she kissed him back.

  God knows why she did it. It was just instinctive. Man kisses you, you kiss back. His hips slowed down to long, deep strides. She tasted the alcohol on his tongue and pushed her own tongue deeper into his mouth. My God, he tastes so good. He kissed her for a while. Slowly he lured her tongue deeper and deeper into his mouth. She lifted her body to feel his warmth. He could feel her body moving under him. He deepened the kiss even more, luring her tongue deeper and deeper into his mouth. He bit lightly into her tongue holding it tight. She panicked for a moment, not knowing what to expect. Her eyes flew open. His blue eyes were inches above, looking down at her. He fondled her tongue gently with his, circling the tip gently. She sighed deeply and relaxed once more.

  Then, with one hard, sideways movement, he ripped her tongue out of her gasping mouth. She heard the tearing sounds in slow motion. Her brain refused to acknowledge what was happening. The tongue did not rip off clean the first time. He bit deep into the tear and ripped her tongue again, again and again. With every rip, blood streamed down into her throat. All this happened long before the pain set in. I am going to die!

  Blood streamed down into her throat. She suffocated in her own blood. Panic made her swing her head sideways so that she wouldn’t drown. His hand was still tight around her throat. Her eyes burned with denial. Her arms flapped wildly again, slapping, scratching, hitting and pulling. Blood poured out of her mouth as she spat and her pillow became soaked. Blood splashed over his face. With every spit he merely closed his eyes. Blood dripped from his nose back into her mouth. Streaks of blood ran down his forehead and accumulated in the corners of his eyes. Yet, the light blue eyes never left her face. He now saw the fear he so needs. Now the real fun is going to start. The feasting has begun!

  The moment he was spent, he got off her. He stood naked in the front window catching his breath. He exhaled deeply a few times. He turned back and picked up her right hand. With swift movements, he cut her nails down to the flesh with the sharp knife. After cutting a nail off, he carefully laid it on the bed next to her. Then he did the same with the left hand. He piled the clipped nails into his left palm.

  He got up and walked to the bathroom, never looking back at the bloody corpse on the bed. He stretched out tall as he walked feeling good and energized. He pulled the condom from his limp penis and lifted the toilet seat. He threw the condom and the nails into the bowl and flushed.

  He opened the shower’s hot water faucet stripped the gloves from his hands and put them in the plastic container. While waiting for the water to run warm, he stretched out through the window, picked up the burglar bar and carefully placed it back into its position. He closed the bathroom window and used her face cloth to wipe all the areas he thought he could have touched. He stepped into the shower, and for a long while just savored the hot water flooding over his body. It felt good when the dried feces became pulp and eventually slipped off his body down the drain.

  He took his time washing himself. He used her shampoo, conditioner, soap, and loofah, and brushed his teeth with her toothbrush. He made sure he rinsed everything well before replacing them.

  He closed the faucet, dried himself carefully and combed his thick, black hair back with his hands. He tied a towel around his waist, picked up his bag and clothes and walked to the living room. He flopped down on the nearest chair and flicked on the television. He meticulously dried the water from between his toes. He rubbed the towel over his back. Then using both hands, he ru
bbed the towel over his hair. He threw the towel on the seat next to him and dressed himself carefully.

  When he finished, he buzzed her security gate open and walked out the front door, careful not to slam it or leave prints. He heard the electric fence close behind him again as he walked the few blocks back to the bar—happy and fulfilled.

  Chapter One

  People living in cities seldom know their neighbors, especially in Johannesburg. Properties are surrounded with eight to ten foot walls with electric barriers installed on top. The city became known as a gated community. Entrance could only be gained if an occupant chose to open an electric gate and a string of smaller security gates. Yet the murderers, burglars and rapists get in. That is part of their genius. Inside the gated community’s homes are laser beams, panic buttons and more security doors. Still, evil always finds a way in.

  His latest victim had all those gadgets, but also a massively big tree with branches hanging over the pavement. It was easy to scale them.

  It was only when her corpse started reeking that the neighbors alarmed the authorities. They first alerted the council thinking that it may be a drain that was blocked. That was a sickness of the new South Africa: very poor service delivery, which, among other things, saw raw sewage running down the streets. The council workers came a few days later after numerous irate calls. They saw nothing wrong in the sewerage systems, but admitted that the air reeked of something rotting. They left after spending their extended lunch hour and tea time under the shady tree on the pavement. If the drain was blocked on a private property, the onus was on the owner to get a plumber. So they shrugged their shoulders and left.