rtc143
09-07-2008, 12:55 AM
Here is another story from high school that I found today. Brace yourself.
I once killed a man. With my hands, I pressed on his neck until his squirming body simply, stopped. It felt empowering, and I quickly imbibed how to escape consequence. I learned to burn bodies, and then dissolve the leftovers. Gruesome, is it not? It feels remarkable to release your anger on others. Trust me when I say I was closer to heaven then I’ll ever be.
For years, I studied anatomy, and aspired to be a writer. Some combination of employment had been in my mind before serial killing, as they call it. My mind still lies within the numerous areas of which I committed my slaughters. The crisp air from decaying bodies would always greet my face with a heavy tickle every time I walked into my chamber of death. The stench of deceased victims and experimental tools formed a wide smirk across my, and I must admit, already demented face. Death is kind of my, guilty pleasure, if you will. However, they just do not understand my methods of research. I like the human body; it interests me. And for me to study every genealogical discovery known to man, I needed to harness what modern scientists have that I did not. Live and dead bodies, for research, of course. That was all. But, no one would just give those bodies up.
So, I had to find some way to obtain these corpses. Murder became my game from that day on. It began with just a few, but preservation liquid was expensive, so I decided I would need fresh “research materials” once every two weeks or so. I was quick about it, unless I was feeling meticulous on a night. Usually, I would use alcohol to create a state of unconsciousness in my victim. From there, I might caress and examine the said victim, and gently drag him or her into my laboratory. Then, once in my cozy chamber, I would conduct my usual experiments. Test the subject’s nervous system with my patented needles method. I’ll stab several needles into major pressure points, and note the reactions and endurance of the average human body, etc. Basic torture follows, and then the murder takes place. On a normal night, I’ll probably stick with a basic stabbing routine, but on my rather kinky nights, I like to commit such acts as decapitation, or I’ll test different poisons in my laboratory. I believe I ended with a new world record or something. The police have a more exact number, but I killed approximately 120 people if I am not mistaken. Isn’t it such a fun and exciting process?
Unfortunately, however, I was caught in the act, and at the hearing, can you guess what I did? I simply chuckled and pled guilty. I even told them where to find my chamber, so they, too, could marvel at the complex experiments, traps, and poisons. I learned so much during my medical studies. Maybe that’s why I didn’t care too much to join my brethren in this asylum. I had learned all I needed to, and had some exhilarating, insane times. I left a pool of blood and knowledge in my path and the reward was sweet. Who said science couldn’t be fun? If I work with the world, perhaps we can change that, but I doubt that will happen, considering my days are numbered. Death Row awaits me just through the looking glass, and I welcome death. The way I see it, life goes as follows: kill, learn, and die happy. I tip my hat to you good sir or m’am for surviving this gory tale of madness.
Your Fears and Temptations, A Dead Scientist, Murderer, and Madman.
I once killed a man. With my hands, I pressed on his neck until his squirming body simply, stopped. It felt empowering, and I quickly imbibed how to escape consequence. I learned to burn bodies, and then dissolve the leftovers. Gruesome, is it not? It feels remarkable to release your anger on others. Trust me when I say I was closer to heaven then I’ll ever be.
For years, I studied anatomy, and aspired to be a writer. Some combination of employment had been in my mind before serial killing, as they call it. My mind still lies within the numerous areas of which I committed my slaughters. The crisp air from decaying bodies would always greet my face with a heavy tickle every time I walked into my chamber of death. The stench of deceased victims and experimental tools formed a wide smirk across my, and I must admit, already demented face. Death is kind of my, guilty pleasure, if you will. However, they just do not understand my methods of research. I like the human body; it interests me. And for me to study every genealogical discovery known to man, I needed to harness what modern scientists have that I did not. Live and dead bodies, for research, of course. That was all. But, no one would just give those bodies up.
So, I had to find some way to obtain these corpses. Murder became my game from that day on. It began with just a few, but preservation liquid was expensive, so I decided I would need fresh “research materials” once every two weeks or so. I was quick about it, unless I was feeling meticulous on a night. Usually, I would use alcohol to create a state of unconsciousness in my victim. From there, I might caress and examine the said victim, and gently drag him or her into my laboratory. Then, once in my cozy chamber, I would conduct my usual experiments. Test the subject’s nervous system with my patented needles method. I’ll stab several needles into major pressure points, and note the reactions and endurance of the average human body, etc. Basic torture follows, and then the murder takes place. On a normal night, I’ll probably stick with a basic stabbing routine, but on my rather kinky nights, I like to commit such acts as decapitation, or I’ll test different poisons in my laboratory. I believe I ended with a new world record or something. The police have a more exact number, but I killed approximately 120 people if I am not mistaken. Isn’t it such a fun and exciting process?
Unfortunately, however, I was caught in the act, and at the hearing, can you guess what I did? I simply chuckled and pled guilty. I even told them where to find my chamber, so they, too, could marvel at the complex experiments, traps, and poisons. I learned so much during my medical studies. Maybe that’s why I didn’t care too much to join my brethren in this asylum. I had learned all I needed to, and had some exhilarating, insane times. I left a pool of blood and knowledge in my path and the reward was sweet. Who said science couldn’t be fun? If I work with the world, perhaps we can change that, but I doubt that will happen, considering my days are numbered. Death Row awaits me just through the looking glass, and I welcome death. The way I see it, life goes as follows: kill, learn, and die happy. I tip my hat to you good sir or m’am for surviving this gory tale of madness.
Your Fears and Temptations, A Dead Scientist, Murderer, and Madman.