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Usually, horror is not something I delve into, but recently, I've had the urge to write in this genera. Maybe suspence is the more correct term. I have been kicking this back and forth with a fellow AH'er and have decided to do something along the lines of a journal of a woman convicted of Holiday Serial Killing. In any case, I wanted to post it here, though I am just starting off, to see if I am going in the right direction.
So, without further (not farther) ado, here it is:
Confessions From Cell Block H (working title)
December 1, 2004
They have spent so much time trying to analyze me here. What they fail to understand is that I am no text-book psycho, ready to be labeled and set into some bullshit program to be rehabilitated. I am, for all intents and purposes, sane. Sure, it may not seem sane to murder, but really it’s all about natural selection.
The weakest must be annihilated. Who is to decide who is weak or strong? I think that we all must make that judgment. I had decided that whatever power there is that lurks down on us had fallen down on the job. Why shouldn’t I take over? I am like a suckerfish cleaning up the algae of humanity.
I started my ‘job’ about 15 years ago and would still be working on it if I hadn’t been caught. My strategy was to work holidays only. This way, I would have plenty of time to make the scum fall for me, get to know them and make sure they no longer added to the moral deficit of man.
I would seek out the misery of men; become their concubine, their mother figure, their hearts desire, while getting to know if they met the criteria for slaughter. They must be morally bankrupt and misogynistic with few or no redeeming qualities at all.
Thanksgiving Day was my very first strike. I was so nervous that I wouldn’t go through with it. I shouldn’t have worried. I completed my task with stellar ability. Dig it.
It was September and I thought that finding my catch would be much easier where the most distasteful of all men herd, the bar. I had met Josh at a nightclub in town. I was sitting at the bar and sipping my cosmopolitan, basically minding my own business. I have to roll my eyes when I remember what he was wearing that night. Polyester should always be banned. In any case, Josh came up to me with that predatory look as if to say, “I plan on having you for dinner.” I arched a finely plucked eyebrow as he sat down beside me and ordered me another drink.
I don’t remember the words verbatim. All I can remember was the distinct taste of metal in my mouth as Josh began talking me up. I knew, almost immediately that he would be the first of my victims. I went home with him and allowed him to have sex with me.
Slovenly. It’s the only word that closely describes his efforts to fuck. I tried to glean some enjoyment from it but it was such a disaster that I excused myself. I went to the bathroom and applied some KY jelly to make it appear that I was excited. This could have been the only reason why I should be canonized. I made the world a brighter place when I took this fucker out of it.
I digress. I want to write about that day. The first day.
So, without further (not farther) ado, here it is:
Confessions From Cell Block H (working title)
December 1, 2004
They have spent so much time trying to analyze me here. What they fail to understand is that I am no text-book psycho, ready to be labeled and set into some bullshit program to be rehabilitated. I am, for all intents and purposes, sane. Sure, it may not seem sane to murder, but really it’s all about natural selection.
The weakest must be annihilated. Who is to decide who is weak or strong? I think that we all must make that judgment. I had decided that whatever power there is that lurks down on us had fallen down on the job. Why shouldn’t I take over? I am like a suckerfish cleaning up the algae of humanity.
I started my ‘job’ about 15 years ago and would still be working on it if I hadn’t been caught. My strategy was to work holidays only. This way, I would have plenty of time to make the scum fall for me, get to know them and make sure they no longer added to the moral deficit of man.
I would seek out the misery of men; become their concubine, their mother figure, their hearts desire, while getting to know if they met the criteria for slaughter. They must be morally bankrupt and misogynistic with few or no redeeming qualities at all.
Thanksgiving Day was my very first strike. I was so nervous that I wouldn’t go through with it. I shouldn’t have worried. I completed my task with stellar ability. Dig it.
It was September and I thought that finding my catch would be much easier where the most distasteful of all men herd, the bar. I had met Josh at a nightclub in town. I was sitting at the bar and sipping my cosmopolitan, basically minding my own business. I have to roll my eyes when I remember what he was wearing that night. Polyester should always be banned. In any case, Josh came up to me with that predatory look as if to say, “I plan on having you for dinner.” I arched a finely plucked eyebrow as he sat down beside me and ordered me another drink.
I don’t remember the words verbatim. All I can remember was the distinct taste of metal in my mouth as Josh began talking me up. I knew, almost immediately that he would be the first of my victims. I went home with him and allowed him to have sex with me.
Slovenly. It’s the only word that closely describes his efforts to fuck. I tried to glean some enjoyment from it but it was such a disaster that I excused myself. I went to the bathroom and applied some KY jelly to make it appear that I was excited. This could have been the only reason why I should be canonized. I made the world a brighter place when I took this fucker out of it.
I digress. I want to write about that day. The first day.
