The night of Christmas Eve 2008 is a blur, depending on how much medication I am given that day. I can avoid the nurses for a couple of hours, but not too long. I suppose you’ve heard about me in the papers or on your favorite serial killer show. No, […]
“Someone has taken their love of fear one step too far.” Don LaFontaine’s iconic voice emitted from the television set. I ran over to the TV cabinet, nearly knocking over the Christmas tree that Ryan was decorating. “Hey! Easy tiger,” he said as he adjusted his Santa hat. “We’re gonna
The bell above the door rang noisily as I entered the bookshop. My hopes of just browsing through the books without attracting the attention of a well-intentioned but usually annoying clerk were immediately dashed. I hate to be bothered while perusing the shelves. But upon closing the door and getting
Hello. My name is Raymond Daws. This recording should be considered my last will and testament. It is intended for whomever takes possession of this house at 12874 N. Pryor Road. After setting aside some money for family and other concerns, I should have approximately three hundred thousand dollars left
“Goddammit! Not again!” screamed Ricky after opening the much-anticipated email. “Pinche pendejo!” he said even louder. “Hijo de tu puta madre!” He picked up his expensive mouse and threw it against the wall. “Besa mi culo, puto!” He slammed his fists down, shattering the tricked out, top of the line
Pistachio nuts littered the thin blue vinyl covering of the table. Salt and dust collected on the pads of Brendan’s fingers. He cracked each nut with excessive force, letting the splintered shells fall idly from his hands. Not that he was paying any attention to them. His gaze was focused
The top half of Councilman Jones’ body hung by a steel cable looped around his neck and tied off to an old oak tree on one end. It was still dripping blood, bones and veins and torn bits of intestines dangling down where the legs should start. The cable was stretched through the air, over to an ash tree ten yards away from where the other half of the body was hanging by the legs.
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I ran as fast as I could. My heart was racing and I could feel my side cramping up. Don’t look behind. I told myself. And so I kept running. I could hear movement behind me. Faster and faster until I felt excruciating pain on my ankle. I screamed and fell on the ground, allowing me to be face to face with my enemy. A python. It looked at me almost as if it knew me. And I stared right back. I could feel it’s hatred. I’ve done nothing to you. I said in my mind. The snake shook its head and moved behind me. I felt paralyzed. As the snake made its way around me, it hissed in my ear.
Nightmarish Realities Read More »
I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed. Today a friend of mine told me a story. His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how
I’ve never posted like this before. But I suppose I’ve never needed to. If you’ve read the title, you know what to expect, and you can move on if you’d like to avoid the topic. I’ll understand. Grief is a funny thing. Professor Farina taught me that in the first
My Son Committed Suicide, and My Wife Blames Me Read More »
There’s a small village out in Alabama called Saint’s Glen. You won’t find it on any map, at least not since 1965. But you can still find the remnants of the town. If you follow the river southwest of Thomasville, you’ll find it, somewhere in the woods between Jackson and
It was a perfect June day. The sky was blue and not one cloud to be seen. It was warm and the breeze was just right. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. It was all perfect as far as I was concerned. I was riding my bike
Dear Friend, This is not a confession. There is nothing to confess. I would have to feel guilty for that. Let me be clear; I do not feel the slightest bit of remorse for anything. What happened was not my doing. I just feel as though writing to you, getting
Jeff the Killer Origins and History You wake at 3AM. Disturbed by some subtle shifting sound within the room, just on the edge of hearing. Propping up on one arm you survey the room looking for some source for the noise, hoping beyond hope that you won’t find one. At
In Finland, there is an old but still inhabited yellow apartment, situated in a small city near an important railroad. Almost all of the people living there are over 70 years old, and in fact it seems that younger people simply won’t stay there for longer than a year. If
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