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Monday, January 24, 2011

I'll show you all that i'm callous and selfish.

miss me?
leT me fill you in.
i went back to Her house approxImately 3 weekS ago. it was about 3am. the house was errIly Silent as i made my Way up the stairwell to HER bEdroom.

 i swung The dooR open And i instantly realized something was wronG. thEre was no sign of her in the room at all. but what immeDatelY caught my attention was seven large Black garbage bags hanging from thE ceiling.

upon closer inspection i noticed that they were hunG up by unraveled wIre clothes hanNgerS.

as i looked at the bags, suspended like giant cocoons, my curiosity got the best of me.

looking back now, i'm pretty sure deep in my gut i knew what the bags contained the moment i laid eyes on them.

i pulled out a small pinknife and a miniture maglite that i carry with me on my excursions. i slit the black plastic of the first back and the stench was overwhelming. it wasnt that of rotting flesh. i know that smell quite personally. it was a different kind've smell. the smell of fear. the smell that enters your nostrils when you step foot into a dentist office. the smell of pain.
i opened the bags one by one allowing the contents to spill to the floor. I just couldn't stop.
the contents of the bags.
bag 1.-- 2 kidneys, 1 liver, upper and lower intestines, stomach
bag 2-- 2 eyes, 2 ears, 1 nose, 32 teeth (i assume), various bits of muscle and bone
bag 3.-- 10 fingers, 2 hands, 2 arms severed at the elbows and at the shoulder
bag 4 -- shell of a torso
bag 5--10 toes, 2 feet, 2 legs severed at the knee and at the hip
bag 6-- 1brain, 2lungs, 1 spinal chord, a large mass of skin
bag 7-- 1 heart
oddly there wasn't much blood.

i figured for the most part that this had to be a set up. someone had read the blog and did the research and used her to end me. the tiny amounts of blood that remained was now on my hands, on my clothes, on my shoes. i had really slipped up this time. so i thought.

as i stood there soaking in what i had just been a part of, i head the downstairs door slam.

i knew they were here for me. no escape. just an unexcapable fate. so i waited, and waited. i heard nothing but silence.
i peered out the upstairs window to try and the hoardes of lights and sirens i was invisioning in my head.

unfortunately what i saw was even more unnerving.

a tall man, in a suit, carrying the lifeless body of a small child. i swear he glanced back at me as he disappeared into the woods.

part of me knew i should go try to save the young girl.

unfortunatey for her, i don't listen to that part anymore.

i did however go into her room.
on a small pink chalkboard there was a criptic message.

that's enough for now. more to come.

i won't even tell you what it said.


  1. "miss me?"

    Terribly so. Didn't know just what I'd do without your postings.



    P.S., after some looking online, I found that, if your numbers are accurate and you killed 52 people before this, you're tied for 21st most prolific serial killer in history, next to Anatoly Onoprienko. Congratulations.

  2. Yes, that's exactly what it said.

    For the record, i'm at 54 now.
    Sorry Anatoly.

    But what really makes a killer "prolific" the amount of victims?
    Someone like Harold Shipman, Dr. Death? He killed at some estimates over 400 of his patients. But he did it with absolutely no creativity at all.

    Or someone like Edmund Kemper. Not a fraction of the victims Shipman had.. But the man was a beast. He put his own mothers larnyx down the garbage because he thought it would be fitting because she spent so much time bitching at him.

    Or maybe the Zodiac? Bottom line he was never caught.

    So what makes one "prolific" so to speak?

    Until Next Time.