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I worked in an Abattoir that's where I developed my skill for slicing throats, skinning carcasses and scraping out foul smelling offal.The townspeople called my family the slaughterhouse family.My first kill I hanged him up in the archway between the kitchen and the living room,it's his skin hanging all contorted and shapeless, like a wet suit on a nail.A man melted like a Dali clock. A human curtain. The face a sick rubber mask without a skull to give it shape. The eye holes vacant under an exaggerated eyebrow arch. His mouth twisted and distorted, falling in a silent scream. There are ears, or what remains of them. His scalp is crowned by bloody curls.The rest is slashed and punctured, hanging in porcine strips right down to his flanged feet. I hanged him on a butchers hook, beyond the curtain his denuded body lies on the carpet, headless and skinless.I remember him running from me but I followed him every step, stabbing and hacking. Relentless.Wanna know more lol don't piss me off! Read carefully I opened this coffin inside a crypt in a Parisian Graveyard. I found embalmed remains inside, oozing with death fluids. It was a man, and he was wrapped in a white shroud. The shroud sticked to his skin like fly paper. I stabbed him with a screwdriver. I tried to sever his head, but I did not have the right tools. I took Polaroid snapshots. My mom said in the courtroom that I never cried or laughed. They thought at first that I was autistic. I don't have brothers or sisters so I was a lonely child. I don't remember much about my childhood. I don't like kids. They are dumb and they have no sense of humor About Me In the papers they described my kitchen as Hells kitchen you see I served his remains up to his children.On my stove I put his head in a cooking pot. Inside is a skinless head, the flesh detaching into fatty, soupy stock of onions and vegetables. One cooked eye looking up. A metal roasting tray sits on top of a cooker, filled with unconcealed fat.Nearby are 2 plates which had their meal. Course chunks of zucchini, potato,squash,cabbage and big chunks of dark, fatty meat.I forgot to pour the gravy on the meal,but the kids didn't complain.
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My first Kill The first time was much like it when people say losing their virginity was... Clumsy all thumbs and in the end fluids all over the place way to soon. I used a quick thrust and a few jabs, but it was fast and without passion. The knife... yes knife I used worked well but as I say it didn't last to long. But as with the action the more you do it the better you get. Today I use long slices, and slow thrusts. I savor the braking of bones and the flow of fluids. I control the agony till it reaches ecstasy, and the moment I reach my peak my subject reaches its end. I still haven't found any way of realizing my thoughts except carving them in tissue, muscle and bone. My diary is layed out in the flesh of all those Ive met and loved in my way. I keep the last look tightly in my memory and have found it to be soothing. Carnal pleasures don't fill my void. Only the severing of limbs and sewing flesh with muscles fills me.... I guess thats it for tonite.... my first nite without someone... More later... Mausoleums Cemetries and graveyards! Over time, simply lurking in graveyards and breaking into mausoleums was not enough to satisfy my desires. My fantasies became sadistic blueprints �" tools for fulfilling my new cravings. Whether this change began at this point or years earlier is a matter of speculation, but it is clear that I believed that I had stepped up to an entirely new level. . I woke up one day feeling this sinister urge to dig up a corpse and mutilate it. I gathered a small crowbar, a pair of pliers, a screwdriver, black candles and a pair of surgical gloves in a backpack. Then I took the subway until the ? station. It was nearly noon. The gates of the ? Cemetery were wide open, but nobody was inside. The undertakers were out for lunch. "? is a small Gothic graveyard with plenty of huge mausoleums, which were built during the 19th century. It is located right between two large avenues, so it is impossible to climb inside at night. But anyway, nobody could ever imagine that there was someone robbing graves at noon. "I had this special grave in mind. It was a small mausoleum, the burial site of a family of Russian immigrants from the 1917 revolution. I had already pried open the iron door a few days before, and I had closed it afterwards so it would seem that nobody had ever touched it. All I had to do was kick it open ... At this point, my mind was in total chaos. I had flashes of death in my head. I took a deep breath, and I climbed down the steps leading to the crypt. "It was a rather small one, with damp walls, buried deep inside the cemetery ground. There was no other source of light than the candles I had brought. To begin, for more than an hour, I removed one of the heavy coffins from its stone casing. It was especially hard not to let the coffin fall all of sudden to the ground, but somehow I managed to slowly lay it down without making too much noise. However, one edge of the coffin scratched my lower leg when it touched the ground. But that didn't stop me at all. I examined the casket for a while. It was solid oak and sealed with big screws. It looked like brand new, so I expected to find a recently deceased corpse. First, I unscrewed the coffin, which took me less than 10 minutes. Then I pried it open with the crowbar. Once opened, a horrible stench of putrefaction came out of the box. It smelled like Thanatyl, the product embalmers use on a corpse in order to delay the process of decay. "Then I saw the body inside. It was a half rotten old man, shrouded in a white sheet, covered with brown stains. His face seemed to be smeared with oil, but it was simply the death fluids oozing from his skin. The stench was so intense that I nearly fainted. I tried to lift one side of the sheet, but it was glued to his petrified skin. The teeth were protruding from the mouth, but his eyes were gone. I stared into the empty eye sockets, and all of a sudden something broke into my mind. I felt like I was falling into a whirlwind. "That's when I picked up a screwdriver. The corpse inside the coffin started to move slightly, like if it had guessed what would happen next. So I began to stab the belly, the rib area and the shoulders. I stabbed him at least 50 times. I really can't remember. All I can remember is that when I woke up my forearms were covered with corpse slime." After violating my first grave, I spent much of my free time searching the cemetery for new graves to desecrate.
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back again? yeah I've been living like usually. and I decside to go back to college, and change my major too. not much to do here. beside school, home, sleep, shit, awake and cook.
