Post by ghoul on Jul 24, 2014 5:54:22 GMT
She was a fighter. Oh yes, I haven't had one like her in a quite a while. The struggle she put up was so....stimulating....exciting. But in the end, I watched the life leave her beautiful eyes...just like all the others...As I sit here, gazing at her once elegant corpse, I shall admit I admire her. She was a good woman, mother of two wonderful little children...A successful teacher who had just returned to teaching after having another child. It's amazing...what you can learn about someone when they know they are going to die. When they plead and beg for their lives like mange ridden dogs awaiting slaughter. The stories they tell, the things they say...when in the end it's truly worthless. We are all the same once we are dead. You can be rich, poor, fat, ugly, beautiful...on top of the world, all meaningless when the cold grip of death touches your heart.
My mother was an angel in herself. She looked as if she fell from heaven....daddy though....would.....hit her. One day....I was playing when mommy and daddy started arguing. Daddy hit her...again...and again....and again. Her face...so warm and happy, was reduced to nothing more than a puddle on the floor. Once he had realized what he done...he took out his revolver and shot me in the head...he then put it to his lips and said "God forgive me". I watched, through a veil of my own blood, as his brains splattered across the walls. Why didn't I stop him? I could have stopped him, it's my fault. My fault. Why had God allowed such an atrocity to occur? I survived...but my scars were etched into me forever.
There is no salvation. No hope for a life after this one. When I bring people here...I am God. I determine their fate. I am the man they should fear, the monster created from the wickedness of society. I am a monster...but society created me. Why should I apologize for the things I have done? When will society apologize to me?
After my parents death...I went into several foster homes...I never fit in at school. Every day kids would either beat me up or call me horrible things. They would mock the scar on my face, tell me I was ugly...called me a freak. I had no one. I was never at the same home long enough to establish a relationship with another human being. I became isolated...I had to purge the hatred growing inside. My flesh was the barrier that kept the poison inside. Every day, I had to purge the evil growing. If I was to cut too much, sometimes I would vomit into the sink and see nothing but the bile I was so desperately trying to get out.
One day...I was in the bathroom at school. I was staring into the glass and at my reflection, trying desperately to see the good in my soul. But....he walked in, the worst of them all. He called me a freak...and and smashed my head against the glass. I could barely see or blink through the wall of crimson masking my eyes....but something inside of me snapped. It's hard to say what and it's hard to say why then and there...but I lost all sense of...control. I picked up a shard of glass and started stabbing him. Over...and over...and over...It felt so...good. It felt so right. His blood lubricated my hands and I could feel my own flesh being sliced as I continued to stab again and again. When I stopped...what was left didn't look human. He was so mutilated....his body twisted in such an grotesque and unfamiliar manner...I laughed. My laughter swelled and filled the whole bathroom, I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. I laughed and laughed until I couldn't laugh anymore.
I walked home after that, swaying as I went. I'd never felt this feeling before...it was amazing. I was enveloped by it and I wished to feel it more.
My current foster parents were both home...deadbeats who just adopted kid after kid for the check every month. I opened the front door with a slimy red hand and found the living room to be empty. The blood dripped slowly off the shard of glass as I advanced ever so cautiously up the stairs. I peaked into their room and split open a wide smile. There they lie. Fast asleep. Bliss and oblivious to the fact that their lives were about to end. I felt amazing, like a cat toying with a mouse. I decided their fate...and I chose death.
I swayed over next to my "mother". Oh yes, she wasn't an ugly woman. Not beautiful, but not ugly either. I took the glass and placed it on her throat and sliced deep into her warm flesh. Her eyes shot open and our eyes locked into each other. You truly see someone as they are at their last moments of life...you see their soul. In an instant, she was still, the crimson blood sliding down her neck. "Daddy" stirred for an instant but soon became still again. I walked over next to him and looked at him...I...just lost it again. I stabbed him...over and over and over. When I was done, I crawled into bed with them and lay there for a while. I felt strange then...forlorn almost...
But after a short while, I got out of the bed. I felt empty then. Nothing, I had no idea what I was to do. I then noticed on the blood soaked dresser, lie the keys to my "dads" sedan. I picked up the sopping keys and stuck them in my pocket. I took one last of the room and then turned around and made my way to the car.
I drove for a long time. I hardly ever ate. When I did, I would look for the freshest roadkill I could find and made do. One day, I found myself in the middle of nowhere, when I discovered...my sanctuary. I had become lost and racked with hunger pains, but ended up in a Forrest somehow. This cabin is not much but I feel secure here...To this day, I do not know exactly where I am. But I am alone here. Free from the evil that is society. I still get my...urges...but I am in more control now.
Why am I thinking of all this now as I stare at the corpse of this woman? What is different from her then the others? Why do I almost feel a twinge of...guilt? All of these emotions...why am I feeling them now? After all these years....why now? I can feel my eyes begin to water and a single tear drips down my dirty cheek. I laid next to her corpse and I started to cry. My tears mixed with the blood on her face and it looked as if she was crying with me...
I walked over to a dusty cabinet and opened it. There, laying on a silk pillow, was a revolver...not unlike my fathers. I had no idea whose it was...it had been there when I had found this place. All these years, I had never had any use for it. There was plenty of vegetation to eat...and every time I held it...I could almost feel it pulsing. I would h ear whispers emitting from it. Calling me...with its siren tune. I went back to her corpse and took her hand..."I'm sorry...for everything" I placed the barrel on my lips and welcomed whatever came next. As I pulled the trigger, I saw many images flash before my eyes. My mother....my father....the bully....and finally fire. As I fell...I felt myself slipping away...I heard a soft voice say "Goodbye son." And with that I sank to the floor...the redness once again filling my eyes...but this time...darkness came...and finally the flames.
My mother was an angel in herself. She looked as if she fell from heaven....daddy though....would.....hit her. One day....I was playing when mommy and daddy started arguing. Daddy hit her...again...and again....and again. Her face...so warm and happy, was reduced to nothing more than a puddle on the floor. Once he had realized what he done...he took out his revolver and shot me in the head...he then put it to his lips and said "God forgive me". I watched, through a veil of my own blood, as his brains splattered across the walls. Why didn't I stop him? I could have stopped him, it's my fault. My fault. Why had God allowed such an atrocity to occur? I survived...but my scars were etched into me forever.
There is no salvation. No hope for a life after this one. When I bring people here...I am God. I determine their fate. I am the man they should fear, the monster created from the wickedness of society. I am a monster...but society created me. Why should I apologize for the things I have done? When will society apologize to me?
After my parents death...I went into several foster homes...I never fit in at school. Every day kids would either beat me up or call me horrible things. They would mock the scar on my face, tell me I was ugly...called me a freak. I had no one. I was never at the same home long enough to establish a relationship with another human being. I became isolated...I had to purge the hatred growing inside. My flesh was the barrier that kept the poison inside. Every day, I had to purge the evil growing. If I was to cut too much, sometimes I would vomit into the sink and see nothing but the bile I was so desperately trying to get out.
One day...I was in the bathroom at school. I was staring into the glass and at my reflection, trying desperately to see the good in my soul. But....he walked in, the worst of them all. He called me a freak...and and smashed my head against the glass. I could barely see or blink through the wall of crimson masking my eyes....but something inside of me snapped. It's hard to say what and it's hard to say why then and there...but I lost all sense of...control. I picked up a shard of glass and started stabbing him. Over...and over...and over...It felt so...good. It felt so right. His blood lubricated my hands and I could feel my own flesh being sliced as I continued to stab again and again. When I stopped...what was left didn't look human. He was so mutilated....his body twisted in such an grotesque and unfamiliar manner...I laughed. My laughter swelled and filled the whole bathroom, I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. I laughed and laughed until I couldn't laugh anymore.
I walked home after that, swaying as I went. I'd never felt this feeling before...it was amazing. I was enveloped by it and I wished to feel it more.
My current foster parents were both home...deadbeats who just adopted kid after kid for the check every month. I opened the front door with a slimy red hand and found the living room to be empty. The blood dripped slowly off the shard of glass as I advanced ever so cautiously up the stairs. I peaked into their room and split open a wide smile. There they lie. Fast asleep. Bliss and oblivious to the fact that their lives were about to end. I felt amazing, like a cat toying with a mouse. I decided their fate...and I chose death.
I swayed over next to my "mother". Oh yes, she wasn't an ugly woman. Not beautiful, but not ugly either. I took the glass and placed it on her throat and sliced deep into her warm flesh. Her eyes shot open and our eyes locked into each other. You truly see someone as they are at their last moments of life...you see their soul. In an instant, she was still, the crimson blood sliding down her neck. "Daddy" stirred for an instant but soon became still again. I walked over next to him and looked at him...I...just lost it again. I stabbed him...over and over and over. When I was done, I crawled into bed with them and lay there for a while. I felt strange then...forlorn almost...
But after a short while, I got out of the bed. I felt empty then. Nothing, I had no idea what I was to do. I then noticed on the blood soaked dresser, lie the keys to my "dads" sedan. I picked up the sopping keys and stuck them in my pocket. I took one last of the room and then turned around and made my way to the car.
I drove for a long time. I hardly ever ate. When I did, I would look for the freshest roadkill I could find and made do. One day, I found myself in the middle of nowhere, when I discovered...my sanctuary. I had become lost and racked with hunger pains, but ended up in a Forrest somehow. This cabin is not much but I feel secure here...To this day, I do not know exactly where I am. But I am alone here. Free from the evil that is society. I still get my...urges...but I am in more control now.
Why am I thinking of all this now as I stare at the corpse of this woman? What is different from her then the others? Why do I almost feel a twinge of...guilt? All of these emotions...why am I feeling them now? After all these years....why now? I can feel my eyes begin to water and a single tear drips down my dirty cheek. I laid next to her corpse and I started to cry. My tears mixed with the blood on her face and it looked as if she was crying with me...
I walked over to a dusty cabinet and opened it. There, laying on a silk pillow, was a revolver...not unlike my fathers. I had no idea whose it was...it had been there when I had found this place. All these years, I had never had any use for it. There was plenty of vegetation to eat...and every time I held it...I could almost feel it pulsing. I would h ear whispers emitting from it. Calling me...with its siren tune. I went back to her corpse and took her hand..."I'm sorry...for everything" I placed the barrel on my lips and welcomed whatever came next. As I pulled the trigger, I saw many images flash before my eyes. My mother....my father....the bully....and finally fire. As I fell...I felt myself slipping away...I heard a soft voice say "Goodbye son." And with that I sank to the floor...the redness once again filling my eyes...but this time...darkness came...and finally the flames.
