Uncle Johnny
(?)Community Member
Springtime Autobiographer
Offline
- Posted: Fri, 17 Aug 2007 00:45:31 +0000
Note; My inspiration comes from 'Hostel', a journal post by Issei Sagawa and one of my close friends, Mr. Murder.
...Have you ever thought about torture? When the pain of it all becomes too much and you can no longer cry or scream about it, when all you can do is take it. That is the sort of torture I've become addicted to. Laughing at people as they scream for the first time, virgins to torture, virgins to immense pain.
...The pain infects their simple bodies, numbing the mind, leaving them with words. Simple words, begging words. These words have no effect on me. In fact, they have started to excite me, fuel my love of this torture.
...The screams that travel through the sound waves, the tears that form in front of me, the simple thrills of feeling the body try to jerk away from me only to find out that they can't move, can't escape.
...Let me tell you about one of my experiences, the first one, in fact. Her name was Charlie, blonde, blue eyes, around 5'3", beautiful long legs. I met her in a night club, gave her straight vodka followed by whiskey.
...At that moment in time, I had no intentions of torture, just wanted a little fun with her. I'll admit, I never asked her age ... I didn't need to know. I lead her into the spare bedroom and put her to bed.
...I sat next to the bed, waiting for her to awake. Thoughts were going through my mind at a record speed. Thoughts that hadn't been there before. Murderous thoughts, deathly thoughts. She stirred. I took that as the trigger to act.
...In the basement was a chair, I had no purpose for it until now. The chair had always reminded me of an old fashioned eletric chair. I had butterflies zooming around inside my stomach, I was excited about what I was going to do.
...I cleaned out my basement quietly, trying not to awake my sleeping victim. From there, I went to get my tools. I set them out in an alphabetical order, still smiling to myself. I looked out the small window, the sun was rising, it was almost time.
...I went back to my chair beside her bed, still watching her sleep. She awoke about an hour later. I asked her if she wanted breakfast, she said that she just wanted to get out of my house. This wasn't an option anymore.
...I told her to come down stairs for breakfast, that I'd make it worth her while. After a little, she agreed. While walking down the stairs, I kicked her heel, making her fall down them. She hit her head and was left unconcious. My plan was falling into place.
...I whistled as I pulled her into my basement. I strapped her into the chair and closed the door, leaving the lights off. I went upstairs to enjoy my own breakfast. The thoughts had spread like a disease, infected my mind and my body. Although, unlike any disease I knew, I enjoyed this feeling.
...I heard sounds of weeping in my basement, my prey had risen once more. I made my way into the soon-to-be tourture hut, whistling again. I opened the door only to be greeted by terrified eyes. She knew she wasn't going to leave, there was a silent connection between the pair of us... we both knew what was going to happen.
...Have you ever thought about torture? When the pain of it all becomes too much and you can no longer cry or scream about it, when all you can do is take it. That is the sort of torture I've become addicted to. Laughing at people as they scream for the first time, virgins to torture, virgins to immense pain.
...The pain infects their simple bodies, numbing the mind, leaving them with words. Simple words, begging words. These words have no effect on me. In fact, they have started to excite me, fuel my love of this torture.
...The screams that travel through the sound waves, the tears that form in front of me, the simple thrills of feeling the body try to jerk away from me only to find out that they can't move, can't escape.
...Let me tell you about one of my experiences, the first one, in fact. Her name was Charlie, blonde, blue eyes, around 5'3", beautiful long legs. I met her in a night club, gave her straight vodka followed by whiskey.
...At that moment in time, I had no intentions of torture, just wanted a little fun with her. I'll admit, I never asked her age ... I didn't need to know. I lead her into the spare bedroom and put her to bed.
...I sat next to the bed, waiting for her to awake. Thoughts were going through my mind at a record speed. Thoughts that hadn't been there before. Murderous thoughts, deathly thoughts. She stirred. I took that as the trigger to act.
--
...In the basement was a chair, I had no purpose for it until now. The chair had always reminded me of an old fashioned eletric chair. I had butterflies zooming around inside my stomach, I was excited about what I was going to do.
...I cleaned out my basement quietly, trying not to awake my sleeping victim. From there, I went to get my tools. I set them out in an alphabetical order, still smiling to myself. I looked out the small window, the sun was rising, it was almost time.
...I went back to my chair beside her bed, still watching her sleep. She awoke about an hour later. I asked her if she wanted breakfast, she said that she just wanted to get out of my house. This wasn't an option anymore.
...I told her to come down stairs for breakfast, that I'd make it worth her while. After a little, she agreed. While walking down the stairs, I kicked her heel, making her fall down them. She hit her head and was left unconcious. My plan was falling into place.
...I whistled as I pulled her into my basement. I strapped her into the chair and closed the door, leaving the lights off. I went upstairs to enjoy my own breakfast. The thoughts had spread like a disease, infected my mind and my body. Although, unlike any disease I knew, I enjoyed this feeling.
...I heard sounds of weeping in my basement, my prey had risen once more. I made my way into the soon-to-be tourture hut, whistling again. I opened the door only to be greeted by terrified eyes. She knew she wasn't going to leave, there was a silent connection between the pair of us... we both knew what was going to happen.
