An exercise in the macabre
I was a killer. Not just any killer, a serial killer. That I took a freak pleasure in watching my victims struggle against the ropes or chains or leather straps. I dreamt that when I had my first victim, she was a very special friend. One that I had always relied on, one that I could say had a special place in my heart. She was so special that she broke me apart. And it drew me over the proverbial edge. She was my friend, and she had to die. She owed me that much since she was special. I remember how I operated, I asked her out to talk. I was giddy, worried even; I felt the acids rise up from my stomach to my mouth. I tasted blood from biting my lips so hard. I wanted to hear what she wanted to say, but then when I saw her walking towards me in her cute little dress, my resolve only grew…to make her repay what she owes me.
We talked, and she said all the wrongs things I didn’t want to hear:
“I have a present for you” I said.
She was puzzled but was expectant. And then I snapped, I struck my fist down the side of her temples. She wasn’t knocked out cold, she was stunned. A stunned stunner and her lips bled from the blow. It was beautiful. But if I wanted to savor the moment, I had to have her sleep. And I beat her again and again and again until her eyes rolled back from the love of my fists. I took her to my house. I strapped her to chains hung on the ceiling. I watched her writhe unconscious. It was exactly 6 hours 43 minutes and 7 seconds later that she came to. I sat right at the light of her sight. Bathed in glorious yellow light, and she in front of me, was the same. But she was in chains and I was free.
“You owe me this.”
She was hysteric, panicky and bloody. She was more beautiful then than in all the times we were together. But I was kind and patient, I took my time before her beauty would be immortalized. I showed her my tools, how I would make her forever. I had knives, and nails, and screws and skinners and a dissecting kit.
The first cut was always the most difficult.
I had a very difficult time with her. She trashed and screamed a lot. But like a mother giving childbirth violence and pain go hand in hand with beauty and eternity. The universe was made with destruction. Art is the same way, we destroy to create, we bleed to achieve. Pain is transient, but such a corporeal feeling gives birth to forever.
Her screams intensify. I have already skinned her entire right upper quadrant, running an incision through her midline right above the umbilicus. I was very careful to preserve much of the skin; I did not want a marred product. Everything below the skin is unnecessary. My endeavor lasted about 5 hours, 14 minutes and 23 seconds. I recorded her screams. I want to relive this moment in the near future.
Her skin lies bathed in formalin, and I ready the plastic bathe to immortalize her skin….
In hindsight, I should have done something else to the body aside from just throwing it in my yard and constantly spraying it with an air freshener. Ants are such a bother this season.
Nevertheless she watches me everyday, her immortal gaze looking at me. But I am distressed my first effort did not seem so refined, her smooth skin hangs loosely from the mannequin I fashioned from her bones, wires and paper Mache. I should take classes to improve my technique.
We talked, and she said all the wrongs things I didn’t want to hear:
“I have a present for you” I said.
She was puzzled but was expectant. And then I snapped, I struck my fist down the side of her temples. She wasn’t knocked out cold, she was stunned. A stunned stunner and her lips bled from the blow. It was beautiful. But if I wanted to savor the moment, I had to have her sleep. And I beat her again and again and again until her eyes rolled back from the love of my fists. I took her to my house. I strapped her to chains hung on the ceiling. I watched her writhe unconscious. It was exactly 6 hours 43 minutes and 7 seconds later that she came to. I sat right at the light of her sight. Bathed in glorious yellow light, and she in front of me, was the same. But she was in chains and I was free.
“You owe me this.”
She was hysteric, panicky and bloody. She was more beautiful then than in all the times we were together. But I was kind and patient, I took my time before her beauty would be immortalized. I showed her my tools, how I would make her forever. I had knives, and nails, and screws and skinners and a dissecting kit.
The first cut was always the most difficult.
I had a very difficult time with her. She trashed and screamed a lot. But like a mother giving childbirth violence and pain go hand in hand with beauty and eternity. The universe was made with destruction. Art is the same way, we destroy to create, we bleed to achieve. Pain is transient, but such a corporeal feeling gives birth to forever.
Her screams intensify. I have already skinned her entire right upper quadrant, running an incision through her midline right above the umbilicus. I was very careful to preserve much of the skin; I did not want a marred product. Everything below the skin is unnecessary. My endeavor lasted about 5 hours, 14 minutes and 23 seconds. I recorded her screams. I want to relive this moment in the near future.
Her skin lies bathed in formalin, and I ready the plastic bathe to immortalize her skin….
In hindsight, I should have done something else to the body aside from just throwing it in my yard and constantly spraying it with an air freshener. Ants are such a bother this season.
Nevertheless she watches me everyday, her immortal gaze looking at me. But I am distressed my first effort did not seem so refined, her smooth skin hangs loosely from the mannequin I fashioned from her bones, wires and paper Mache. I should take classes to improve my technique.