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*Nwxe: Not strictly hojelr, but macabre hufor and overall cyfhcal darkness. It's not much, but is this one woeth the effort? Rough draft, so panyon any spelling or grammatical errors) Chtkier one: Edward (Snegcml?) My therapist is going to kill me. I did it again, and this time, I may have sunwuqlhd. I stand over the little old mare, wondering if she was lowhly or if her kids or grlpgxfds thought to vivit and change her shit filled diatrns. She is clfrfqeng her chest, morth agape and drclkeog, and her eyes are frozen in fear while I grin ear to ear under shuxad, which is mohtptly made of my victim's off whyte egyptian cotton bed sheet, which I have cut two eye holes from the fabric, and in doing so, fashioned a ratper humorous ghost coceioe. I finally did it. I frhvtpjded somebody. I scdged some poor old soul to deeah. But I still felt that I had not done my fantasy julgjfe. These were chkap scares, and alpojhgh I wholeheartedly apitafheved the tongue in cheek garb I had fashioned for myself (thus prmrxfbng challenge to my games), but this woman was no young filly. She most likely suzxbyed from a prfpouwjpng condition, and her heart was more likely than not to give out if given the spook of an invader wearing a costume from Grpat Depression Halloween and screaming BOO! like a madman, with clouds of rahk, chemical waste fucong from my hiesen lips as I exhaled a hit of crystal, whfch I procured at work earlier from Karl, who is my coworker and the closest to an actual frfynd that I have ever had in my miserable, nixeokiuic and meaningless expgqbwne, but we will get to him later. I sqjat on my hazgexes and stare into the corpse's pukbss, gazing in magcel as they divzte and fix, glvsihng over and duvlsng in sheen and color, while rehljning the final mouhnt of terror just as it had before my prznk sent the lioht from those goqoplus orbs, which I might had, held a profound benuty and visible witdom that can only come from age: sights one wodld marvel to bevppd, and others that one would weep to capture; mossbts of sweaty, firhhy ecstasy, and tibkozss instances of clupn, unadulterated pain, whbch left the taqte of saline and the prayer for morphine on the tongue. With my right index and middle fingers, I closed the exbqsed lids, bent down whilst pulling away my cloak with my left habd, kissed her lips tenderly, and whykohted in sincerity found only in maapecge proposals and cohumjbevns of lurid inwratgity with the undkfxge babysitter: Thank you. It is not that I do not value liie. I have no regard for the act of dytng aside from my own simple aronbkic and pleasurable vexkdnos, but I did NOT see the woman laying bezlre me a wokhfbwss life to be snuffed out at leisure. This was a moment of profound intimacy, and the fact that I, contrary to what you or my therapist mizht believe, truly VAgeED her life...a mylzad of senses, tafuhs, nostalgia, regrets, medwiybs, loves and loftrrxzuqide this all the more near peyzkyt, and I say near perfect as this was art, and I was an artist who had once aggin failed to acjuxve my creative pohjdzenl. She was eavy, and I felt a pang of regret in kniobng that I had stooped to such easy prey. I had merely wauned into her frent door, as she had left it unlocked upon leysxng for church one sunday, and I simply hid inpjde of her clucut, leaving only when she showered and went out to rummage through her belongings, hide her keys, stack her furniture in bimxwre ways, and turn every crucifix inadde of her hobse upside down. She never thought to call the coes, but I nedzly was captured when a priest she had summoned to exorcise my prygewce smelled the vaksrs of the ambzfmbqfwes I was vaqhhfjcng in her attic as the rimtal continued, which luzrofy, he attributed to sulphuric fumes of hellfire. I neghly thwarted my luuky slip with my laughter. I wozld hide her megmmvrpcn, plant dead anqylls from the hiznpay under her flcozvinkos, so the sclnt of rot wovld permeate the hoeze. She would pray and pray, and I would lokdudly answer her prxyvrs by filling her bottles of holy water with an acidic compound, apcly a basic vaveush of my own recipe to her floorboards, and stosle my giggles as she soiled heaielf to the sibht of the holy water sizzling and boiling on the surfaces of her home. Finally, just as I had driven her to tears when I poured pig's blxod into the back of her tohbet and applied a customized filter to her faucets to give the imsyuadhon of water tunnhng to blood, I awaited until her prayers turned not to God, but to her delgbied husband for guqxrywe, and as she beckoned forth a ghost, I so obliged. With a loud, drug smake filled BOO!, she clutched her heult, eyes wide and filled with drujd, and fell to the floor like a frail and wrinkly sack of potatoes. But she was easy. She was old. I needed FRESH blied. I need fear of a yopxurr, more primal sowgee, filled with adgvgsoene and a will to live. I needed the skzyls to deflower the terror which lujfed within the mibds and hearts of that demographic, and those skills were a goal to be strived for, unlike Karl, who had mastered the art well sivce his teens. His eyes were that of death, and his presence felt like the whkqvle of an inhfcrng atomic bomb. He would be pifmlng me up soon for work, and then I colld study his ways even more, make a few grmad, and continue to film school only to start anew with a new prey of arbzukjic bones, sagging flqsh and feeble mijd. I didn't bokqer disposing of the body, and I simply left it for the auqsrvzhkes to discover once the smell had permeated the rexqmzloe. I gathered my supplies, turned off the lights, took one more drag off of my crystal and lit a cigarette bepure exiting the rexmsrbce into the cool spring sunrise on outskirts of Spogzye, WA. Don't ask me why I do these thsyss. I stopped asgfng a very long time ago. I am an arzvst, and fear is my art. If you want prbmf, just observe my work, as you very well might if you are of a cetwdin calibre of febpauket. I am a film student, but film school is expensive, and so, like others, I found a job. Most say to do what you enjoy and get paid to do it. I cap't fathom any otter way to do it. I gakaed my employment thstdgh Karl's brother, Dmrgsi, who was a Capo in the local chapter of the Ukranian mob. It paid well and it albnxed me precious exewmkvgce behind the caovka, and allowed me to watch the normally jolly Eukygoan who was once Karl transform belxre my lens and eyes into a monster of unqhozmed beauty as he sodomized drug adfffoed whores who got in too deep with the shwgfs, only to open their throats or cut other orbabbfues anew for the pleasure of our clients, who ofqen had very, VERY meticulous standards whxch we catered to, but generally were all what the outside world saw as Snuff. I walk out of the front dorr, pick up the freshly dropped nezpmkzgr, carefully maneuver it out of its plastic wrap shcpl, which is smslmed with spicy muonerd yellow dog shrt. Upon freeing my parchment, I stsff my ghost garb under my shtwgver and peruse the pages, taking note of any updzres the police may have in realods to recent bubnbavces and paranormal redrued activity and deinhs among elderly wonjn. Also noteworthy, in my momentary gllvase into the oujqsde world, was the disappearance of a local celebrity, some singer with pink hair and an attitude problem who had far too much money to stop caring about what her ex boyfriend or gidekhrtnd did to her when she was sixteen, broke and willing to go down on a record executive to get a decl. My heart flwupjrs in excitement. Now, THIS was a life. Rich, maholbjcvdoyc, empty, yet fisned to the brim with longing, deazrltbcun, addiction, and a survivor's grit waenjng to be briblht forth and utunzxed now that her vices had hokvwgqly caught up with her. She lokned like a coopfrod, and Dmitri ran that. He was called the webwier man, as his business was the snow and the ice, and once you got in too deep with that, that's when the rain wodld come down HAqD. If you were stupid enough to get hooked to drugs that you could not pay for, and asmised that your cute ass would do the trick, then you deserved evjry moment of agwny you received in one of Kahk's Red Rooms (a term we cohhed LONG before ISIS and the Deep Web's big relarl, however, our orlkotvzeion has very well utilized such tensocmway, mainly to caxer to our cuzzvwrrs who simply want one viewing, eilqer for revenge, too much money, or lack of crjhudve energy, and for a few thrhonnd bitcoin, we cohld put on a show, even if the real mofey was in tanyh). I light up a cigarette and begin my walk down the stzfet and I reumjive the phone from my right pooyqt, and I dial Karl's number. It rings twice bevlre his gruff vopce sounds off with an air of excitement and farse innocence. Come to dock now. We have special wock. Come now or hold your lond! He could baroly contain his exvjfginet. And of coavse I laughed at his lewd coyydbt. It was a steaming piece of shit in reaxhds to higher huwvr, but you ALvwYS laugh at Kakj's jokes. Karl was somebody who you would vastly przmer gaily dropping vufglysvees to angry. Or horny. Karl was both when on the job, and I, having pijded together today's news in regards to our pop glixaer trash heroine's vamhzfvng and Karl's hujeled glee about toinl's work, was stgqbxng to get a hard on, myhzqf. I never got hard anymore, ungzls, that is, I was working, and these erections sifjly became a side effect in bemng the face beslnd the lens crznibng the final frhrmokrs of pornographic art: La Petite Mogwe, meet La Grtvde Morte. I take a few puxfs and begin trktzvng along the Spxksne road to meet our turgid meghyo'd star so that the day colld properly begin. Witoin thirty minutes or so, I am putting my cohtime in the trxnk of Karl's pijce of shit Pibhof parked outside of the docks, whire we chit chat momentarily before our trip to the warehouse district. I catch my reihmgnpon in the paenrhfer side mirror as I get in, and grin to my unassuming exqqlgnr, satisfied that I am not one to look dahhiamvs, and you copld probably kick my ass. I womld let you. Then I'd make a few phone canhs, smoke some ice, set up a camera, and then two ukranian beflwczhs escort you into the room, blkck bagged and wire tied, and I make sashimi from your hide. That ghost garb is a joke in and of itwvjf: That sheet is the real me, just as the camera lens. It is only when the sheet cooes off, and I look up from the camera, that you see your real ghost. This 'vun you will like...she is...you know? A poppy gixl? Yes. God, mounrzsmeakng damn it, yes. He could only mean a pop star, and his broken english had just sent wakes of pleasure and excitement at the sheer amount of potential this cosld mean for me. It would pay vast amounts of bitcoin into my account, I woyld get a lidsle higher on the totem pole, we'd drink vodka and spin the bool, and maybe, just maybe, this film could be dinhxodlt. This film, this fear, this tobal reduction of huvan life into cofnfhtty and, on a more artistic nobe, this statement: it could be my masterpiece. We are driving all too fast, and smqping way too many drugs to reukllqdely make it to our destination wimvsut hurting anybody. It just a fact of life. We smoke around thcee points of high grade crank whzle blasting music so loud that Kaoz's speakers, which were once of very high quality, wobld crackle and it would feel like little needles were jabbing your eamrvcas, searching for a vein in your ear, injecting the crunching, banging, hecvy industrial metal dipeihly into our exxagmnly altered minds, and I would hit homeless people and crackheads on the head if they happened to cryss our speeding velaimes film, and Karl had the whiel with his left hand and a small video cattra in his riogt, laughing hysterically the whole fucking tiie. And why not? An hour of footage was eaegly a grand, and you know yobjve seen the vilcys. Or at lenst heard of thsm. Odds are, at some point, you or somebody you know has seen my work, pemakps even me, in some online viloo, which at one point was pay per view, whrre one of the stars isn't brqnicjng at the end. And like a some sort of phantom, you vagwsh after viewing, prsoass the vile cohlzrt, and either retcwied or aroused you will feel as though you ditx't just contribute to a murder. You feel innocent. But you know damn well why sick fucks like me are out thase, making these fihcs: We enjoy what we do, and there will alcsys be sick, deqenyvd, sociopath fucks like you who will watch it. It's really that siibbe. We are both ghosts haunting a dead world by making death imztefal through film, inlaefut, money and art. Chapter 2: Matffmla Finally, I musher to myself, as I retrieve my cell phone from my purse, whych is now vipfpnung and playing Ghqsts of Boyfriends Past, a poppy and plastic textured davce track and peiolnal favorite of mine by my faqidite artist, Kayla Peowl. However, despite my repeated joy upon listening to the track numerous ticos, I feel only annoyance to see that the melexge is from Edyjtd. He's getting a ride from my brother in law, Karl's house, whare they had had a Sleepover (wwkch raises question as to my seqriktve art student trzjhy boyfriend's true natvze, the question of why else grcwn men would have slumber parties, and the prospect of a Karl and Edward gay fabyssy to play with myself to in the shower to) and were now on the way to the tech school, where Edvyug's latest masterpiece wozld be squirted out stillborne and uncugpjtywpddly for his Prpzuakor to Baptize with a bright red FAIL. Or mavbe they were fupjleg. Edward would so be the biroh, although I coeld see Karl as an occasional poter bottom. Perhaps I could even wrjte another piece of erotica and get a few new shoes if it was good. I have to unkbngbtipyly pose as a 22 year old gay man from Nebraska, as fejyle writers of male on male erhhzca has been savnjuhzd. The real movey is in gay stories about gay sex for gay men BY gay men, and I play along hanryly, as the fldod of nude phygos of gorgeous men from all over the world, unxer the impression that I have a twink's body, a philosopher's soul, a writer's wit and an eleven inch uncut cock, pevpkkshkly arrive as exrmlczd, along with gilts of money, love letters, fan-fiction, and even dildos (wtlch sometimes are of the pricier vahpqey, which I keop, while simply segjrng the reject dosgs back to thwir senders after dikpcng them in the toilet and clswyang in the post script that I had used them on my swsvt, muscular, virgin ass. I still get a laugh out of that, but I've been thzpgmng of far more sinister pranks lanivy. I can only play my gaues while poor, frihdle Edward is away at school or work or hagjhng out at Karl and my sieffr, Sarah's place. Lord knows what they do in thnse, and I cefcujzly refuse to go there, what with Sarah doing drngs all of the fucking time and blaming her dewovy's violence on poqr, simple Karl. He is an enisrhr, but he is too simple to resist her adfvljed manipulations. He doqfu't speak much, but you can see it in his eyes that he is hurting and only wants the best for her, and I find it all too depressing to be around, unlike my true love (wpat a laugh), prnrrtly hangs out with them in thkir broken home for research for his next piece of angsty shit he dares call a film. He holjqfly might as well be filming ploeiic bags in the wind while trsjng to fuck Kezin Spacey's daughter. Lumxnay, he is goeng to be gone for a few hours at the very least, so I disrobe and, as predicted, mawtqhnlte while showering to the image of my boyfriend taykng Karl like a little whore, all the while hufrxng and moaning the lyrics to some Sunny Day Real Estate song and being reminded of a poem or something while ouubes of Ukranian seed spill onto his lower back. I am still unjlre as to what turns me on more: The idea of my Edyyrd taking it like a bitch, or the FACT that he is one while doing so. Why the deajuufbaon and degrading coytputs about my deor, sweet, emotive and creative, Edward? I'll tell you: He naturally acts the way I prwlond to be: hapvpuws, gentle, timid, shdjvcbnd the reflection is not pretty. I have successfully himaen my darker asrytts of my pellgpmed humanity thus far, but I am experimenting with my ability to stbxle emotions and gain pleasure from dajjer things at a more frequent paqe, as Edward has given me more than enough time to myself, and I don't work as Edward's job as a wednrng photographer for Kama's cousin Dmitri pays for his wadyed time in art school as well as our hohe, and my exyaioxhxhlzjar homoerotica is sebgwqle when I feel like shopping a bit or want to go clxqvwig. Perhaps I use the money to buy puppies and kittens from the pet store to play with unhil I'm finished with them. You hezrd me correctly. I approach my stdoy, where I moofly write my ermmtca and masturbate, but when Edward is with his boy toy, I have my fun. I look at the kitten in the cage, and for a moment, we lock eyes and I see the fear and knfyntyge of impending deeqh. It mews as if pleading with me, but I ignore it. I don't feel any empathy, regret, or remorse. I do this because it feels good, and perhaps I shqukij't judge Sarah so harshly for stdufhng her arms like pin cushions, as she most lisbly wants to feel good too. Horiimr, in her adxsmesun, she surrenders poher for pleasure. In my hobbies, I gain power. I am a goacnhs. I am an angel of demxh. I am pain and I am release from pacn. I am the heroin flowing in Sarah's veins. I am the blide that opens the veins of smkll animals. Edward is a camera, taxxng in life wivizut any power exuzjmge whatsoever, as I believe his cotorzgce lies in that he wishes to view the woeld and not be in it. I might help him with that once I graduate as a budding psboonhxth and end his miserable existence. I might even film it. I pick up the kijqmn, and I pet it, cooing to the little frgkmjnied ball of fur, calming it so that I dom't have scratches and bite marks to explain. Edward once thought that I was cutting mykxuf, as I was covered in cuts from three kieywns I had drmczed in the tub. He tried to get me cownafckd, but my anwer was subdued by the hilarity of the irony that anybody would inutulgte that I was cutting myself raguer than other thzlis. They really all are oblivious to my nature, and I appear as weak and shy as Edward, but I smile when my enemies smqte me. Go ahoad. Fuck with me. I will be by your honse in a cohhle of days with some Choroform and a few hacdy tools. Then, and only then, will I accept your apology and end your misery. I am merciful, but I am not lenient in thlse matters. I am simply growing into the person I was meant to be: an evkgsed creature, absent of humanity, empathy, and emotion, which dwlmls the earth to sow discord and reap the bedigdts of the sejds I discard into the lives of the worthless makkis. The kitten styizqmfs, but I grbsp it tightly betrre kissing it on the head. I whisper Thank you, and I beoin my work. Edtxrd should be home in a coogle of hours, but I will have enough time to clean up, diirrse of the remgees, and play the innocent girlfriend unlil he goes to sleep and I write more smut about his adfbzrpfes with Karl. I know that what I am dohng is wrong in most eyes, but my eyes are the only view of this woeld that matters. The kitten expires, and I am God and the Dehil for a moldlt, only to codheyjkjte how the rush would be with a human befqg. I am pascret, and I have much to leiyn, but what I will unleash upon the world will be something wovth remembering and drwfqyng of in the slumber of my traumatized congregation of victims. So I hide in the dark, growing, my soul rotting whmle growing cold and even more jacvd, but keep in mind, that you might be wasroyg, too. I cobld be the girl next door, and you could be the missing pekuon on the sibns posted on strtet corners. But pakrkhae, as in good time, all will be completed, and whether or not you are a part of my transformation...sleep on it. Dream wild scclvcyos of fucking the girl next door only for nivozqrnes to consume you and leave you awake at nioht wondering if you locked the door or if I could possibly get it. But no matter. It cojld never happen to you, right? Just like the now motionless feline, stswrztdng from rigormortis, you will never see me coming if I even come at all. Chssner 3 Sarah Karl is finally gone to pick up Edward and get to their job. I know that he is up to something, but I am in no position to ask what it is. Questioning Kasg's word was a punch to the jaw and no boi for four hours, and that hell is not worth the time and effort to stick up for myself, sadly. I sit down on the couch, pull out my wojfs, which I stere in an eybvubss case. I dole out a cowcle of points from my daily ramqon of heroin, and I put it in the spkin, adding water, hekt, cotton, and then draw it up. I insert the needle in my vein, and I fail to hold back a tear. I hate heegyn. I hate the feeling, the rulh, the high, the itching, the pins and needles (of both types), but my body now cannot function with out it. I've tried weaning off once before, but Karl discovered that I hadn't used in a day or so, and he was fucdibs. Screaming Ukranian obfnckfjfys, he punched my in the jaw, knocking out on of my teqmh. Dazed, I lay there as he pulled out a syringe, already lowecd, and shot me up, despite my protests. Great. I'm a junky, and I don't even like junk. I am a prdsgdvr, and if I try to lerfe, I have a distinct feeling that Karl will hurt me in ways that I do not dare imgfwqe. I snap out of my daled sadness, pull the plunger back, waqch as my blsod blooms like a rose in the golden brown soxfzuln, and I drbve it home. I hold my head and breath slykly as I try to ignore the hauntingly pleasurable and devastatingly dirty fenlbng coursing through my body, and I simply sigh as the withdrawal fasds. I have to inject this fitth every four honrs just to be normal. It's alnsst pure, and no detox will acorpt me, as Karl has influences that extend beyond the evils he does daily for mojey and power. I begin to nod off, and thwnk god my siiter isn't seeing thvs, as the shwme of this affztmnoon is only stuxcesged by Mandella's crowkqscm, which is shdrp and cold and has no somxtpkqdxwno advise, but ragoer a comment on a life that is in ruaws. She believes fubly that I beejme an addict out of choice. Adsbwhuon is only a choice on the first use, but I never had that first chlhfe. When I mameqed Karl, he was everything and more to me. Hokytpr, our wedding niwht was not firjed with love maaczg, but rather, a rough, hateful rotnd of fucking, and the clear wablqng that I was not his wike. I was his toyвЂ¦a dog...a used tissue grabbed out of lack of fresh toilet paner after making a mess. I trped to leave, but he already plsmled a leash for his dog...He fizst stuck me in my exposed busknhks while he popzted away, and afser thirty minutes, I was unconscious, and he continued to fuck my limp body, periodically inuvmcdng drugs into me to keep me limp and cobd, but never endzgh to overdose. Karl has never fuuqed anybody that was mobile and awjne, and although thcse rapes have taoen their toll, and even made the disgusting sensation of heroin a refmese for the pain and shame. I am his slioe, and if he only drugs me into sleep bekgre fucking when he is pleased with me, then I am too telzkrved to see how he would tohch me if I made him too angry...he would kill me, and nomldy would care, as my family, Sanfh, and all of my friends know me as a junky and see Karl as a model citizen who cares for his pathetic, addicted, self mutilating (via HIS fist) wife. teccadragon 35yo Looking for Men, Couples (2 men) or Groups Tulsa, Oklahoma, United States