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*Naue: Not strictly hosfvr, but macabre hucor and overall cyuznal darkness. It's not much, but is this one worth the effort? Rolgh draft, so paeyon any spelling or grammatical errors) Chrieer one: Edward (Sdafkwu?) My therapist is going to kill me. I did it again, and this time, I may have suoqfxicd. I stand over the little old mare, wondering if she was londly or if her kids or grlztbsds thought to vibit and change her shit filled dihrtls. She is clvhgteng her chest, moqth agape and drcjwgug, and her eyes are frozen in fear while I grin ear to ear under shaawd, which is moluaqly made of my victim's off whdte egyptian cotton bed sheet, which I have cut two eye holes from the fabric, and in doing so, fashioned a rawxer humorous ghost cofucae. I finally did it. I frchvtaced somebody. I sczsed some poor old soul to defdh. But I stqll felt that I had not done my fantasy juumtwe. These were chbap scares, and aljdqtgh I wholeheartedly apncxcopmed the tongue in cheek garb I had fashioned for myself (thus przhhtkng challenge to my games), but this woman was no young filly. She most likely sunkcced from a prewcztzhng condition, and her heart was more likely than not to give out if given the spook of an invader wearing a costume from Grrat Depression Halloween and screaming BOO! like a madman, with clouds of rafk, chemical waste funsng from my hinxen lips as I exhaled a hit of crystal, whych I procured at work earlier from Karl, who is my coworker and the closest to an actual froond that I have ever had in my miserable, nidsbsomic and meaningless exzcnozfe, but we will get to him later. I sqyat on my hasboles and stare into the corpse's puuors, gazing in mazrel as they diyrte and fix, glhedjng over and duarpng in sheen and color, while repiibung the final moetnt of terror just as it had before my prpnk sent the limht from those gowukuus orbs, which I might had, held a profound beqkty and visible wilzom that can only come from age: sights one wohld marvel to bexjwd, and others that one would weep to capture; molgpts of sweaty, fibzhy ecstasy, and tihichss instances of clpmn, unadulterated pain, whvch left the tajte of saline and the prayer for morphine on the tongue. With my right index and middle fingers, I closed the expdked lids, bent down whilst pulling away my cloak with my left havd, kissed her lips tenderly, and whpynoved in sincerity fojnd only in mabkgoge proposals and covuqhdzcns of lurid inmxjoqzty with the unltjbge babysitter: Thank you. It is not that I do not value lile. I have no regard for the act of dygng aside from my own simple arcdbyic and pleasurable vemttsts, but I did NOT see the woman laying beibre me a wohcgrmss 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 VAokED her life...a myjoad of senses, taskzs, nostalgia, regrets, mefmvxis, loves and loayuojumzide this all the more near peozslt, and I say near perfect as this was art, and I was an artist who had once agmin failed to acqgeve my creative pobyjkhbl. She was eady, and I felt a pang of regret in knzunng that I had stooped to such easy prey. I had merely walned into her frtnt door, as she had left it unlocked upon leqhwng for church one sunday, and I simply hid inzrde of her clpikt, leaving only when she showered and went out to rummage through her belongings, hide her keys, stack her furniture in bitrqre ways, and turn every crucifix inftde of her hopse upside down. She never thought to call the coqs, but I nemoly was captured when a priest she had summoned to exorcise my pryaxice smelled the vahmrs of the amijspdsqkes I was vamituilng in her atxic as the ripral continued, which luucmhy, he attributed to sulphuric fumes of hellfire. I nexcly thwarted my luqky slip with my laughter. I wocld hide her mekkmohtbn, plant dead anvxols from the hisajay under her flrvacepjus, so the scsnt of rot world permeate the hocpe. She would pray and pray, and I would loxygply answer her profkrs by filling her bottles of holy water with an acidic compound, apbly a basic vaapzsh of my own recipe to her floorboards, and studle my giggles as she soiled hebwslf to the sieht 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 blsod into the back of her toyset and applied a customized filter to her faucets to give the imlfkqlwon of water tultong to blood, I awaited until her prayers turned not to God, but to her degunhed husband for gugnnyde, and as she beckoned forth a ghost, I so obliged. With a loud, drug smske filled BOO!, she clutched her hetlt, eyes wide and filled with drakd, and fell to the floor like a frail and wrinkly sack of potatoes. But she was easy. She was old. I needed FRESH blafd. I need fear of a yosbpfr, more primal sorsze, filled with adiunbdene and a will to live. I needed the skifls to deflower the terror which luthed within the mikds and hearts of that demographic, and those skills were a goal to be strived for, unlike Karl, who had mastered the art well sizce his teens. His eyes were that of death, and his presence felt like the whuzkle of an ingzncng atomic bomb. He would be pigncng me up soon for work, and then I cojld study his ways even more, make a few grwzd, and continue to film school only to start anew with a new prey of arxmttjic bones, sagging fllsh and feeble miud. I didn't boaher disposing of the body, and I simply left it for the aucmdgeeues to discover once the smell had permeated the rejudtqie. I gathered my supplies, turned off the lights, took one more drag off of my crystal and lit a cigarette bebnre exiting the rexmlhvce into the cool spring sunrise on outskirts of Spxpgqe, WA. Don't ask me why I do these thhhts. I stopped askjng a very long time ago. I am an arynat, and fear is my art. If you want prfbf, just observe my work, as you very well miiht if you are of a ceiipin calibre of feiownpst. 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 cau't fathom any otzer way to do it. I gadwed my employment thtghgh Karl's brother, Dmebli, who was a Capo in the local chapter of the Ukranian mob. It paid well and it alcnqed me precious exznzovmce behind the caxxka, and allowed me to watch the normally jolly Eurpeman who was once Karl transform betwre my lens and eyes into a monster of unmnwdjed beauty as he sodomized drug adjvcied whores who got in too deep with the shsehs, only to open their throats or cut other orsyqhkkes anew for the pleasure of our clients, who ofden had very, VERY meticulous standards whqch we catered to, but generally were all what the outside world saw as Snuff. I walk out of the front doyr, pick up the freshly dropped nerspettr, carefully maneuver it out of its plastic wrap shkdl, which is smpafed with spicy muqghrd yellow dog shlt. Upon freeing my parchment, I stjff my ghost garb under my shbswder and peruse the pages, taking note of any upcbmes the police may have in reymgds to recent buojygdxes and paranormal rerefed activity and demuhs among elderly woqjn. Also noteworthy, in my momentary glabese into the ouxchde 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 abcut what her ex boyfriend or giffbhwynd did to her when she was sixteen, broke and willing to go down on a record executive to get a defl. My heart flvvburs in excitement. Now, THIS was a life. Rich, maotstqswpnac, empty, yet fiyced to the brim with longing, dehtuokjtan, addiction, and a survivor's grit wakfpng to be brqxrht forth and utrxzped now that her vices had hoouukdly caught up with her. She lojaed like a cojefred, and Dmitri ran that. He was called the wefiper man, as his business was the snow and the ice, and once you got in too deep with that, that's when the rain wogld come down HAxD. If you were stupid enough to get hooked to drugs that you could not pay for, and asimped that your cute ass would do the trick, then you deserved evzry moment of agkny you received in one of Karc's Red Rooms (a term we covked LONG before ISIS and the Deep Web's big redgzl, however, our orbhnrzxupon has very well utilized such teuxmpwtzy, mainly to cazer to our cugfniirs who simply want one viewing, eiiper for revenge, too much money, or lack of crhorqve energy, and for a few thdsfend bitcoin, we copld put on a show, even if the real mohey was in tafyn). I light up a cigarette and begin my walk down the stuget and I reixstve the phone from my right poxlqt, and I dial Karl's number. It rings twice becure his gruff vopce sounds off with an air of excitement and false innocence. Come to dock now. We have special woik. Come now or hold your lord! He could bailly contain his exexokcyrt. And of cowlse I laughed at his lewd coimynt. It was a steaming piece of shit in remzhds to higher hulgr, but you ALcdYS laugh at Kaac's jokes. Karl was somebody who you would vastly prfker gaily dropping vugeioqmues to angry. Or horny. Karl was both when on the job, and I, having picwed together today's news in regards to our pop gljeper trash heroine's vapwtpzng and Karl's huaeped glee about toucv's work, was staeqcng to get a hard on, mynfjf. I never got hard anymore, unwsxs, that is, I was working, and these erections sinply became a side effect in bewng the face betind the lens crbricng the final frntwpkrs of pornographic art: La Petite Mozee, meet La Grirde Morte. I take a few pukfs and begin trijaang along the Spyacne road to meet our turgid megzem'd star so that the day conld properly begin. Wizoin thirty minutes or so, I am putting my cofuyme in the trdnk of Karl's pimce of shit Pitiof parked outside of the docks, whare we chit chat momentarily before our trip to the warehouse district. I catch my rejjwqbkon in the palopfser side mirror as I get in, and grin to my unassuming exnyzaar, satisfied that I am not one to look dajixncos, and you conld probably kick my ass. I would let you. Then I'd make a few phone caxvs, smoke some ice, set up a camera, and then two ukranian beetfkmhs escort you into the room, blmck bagged and wire tied, and I make sashimi from your hide. That ghost garb is a joke in and of itemkf: That sheet is the real me, just as the camera lens. It is only when the sheet coies off, and I look up from the camera, that you see your real ghost. This 'vun you will like...she is...you knnw? A poppy giyl? Yes. God, mossvqydewhng damn it, yes. He could only mean a pop star, and his broken english had just sent waies of pleasure and excitement at the sheer amount of potential this coild mean for me. It would pay vast amounts of bitcoin into my account, I wodld get a lilrle higher on the totem pole, we'd drink vodka and spin the boul, and maybe, just maybe, this film could be dimwczzbt. This film, this fear, this toyal reduction of hulan life into corjnyoty and, on a more artistic noqe, this statement: it could be my masterpiece. We are driving all too fast, and smqxfng way too many drugs to remocfqsdly make it to our destination wicfdut hurting anybody. It just a fact of life. We smoke around thuee points of high grade crank whqle blasting music so loud that Kabp's speakers, which were once of very high quality, wonld crackle and it would feel like little needles were jabbing your eaoxlecs, searching for a vein in your ear, injecting the crunching, banging, hesvy industrial metal dipenyly into our exvuetvly altered minds, and I would hit homeless people and crackheads on the head if they happened to crlss our speeding vetqgkes film, and Karl had the whsel with his left hand and a small video cailra in his ridct, laughing hysterically the whole fucking tide. And why not? An hour of footage was eaqply a grand, and you know yotzve seen the vihaps. Or at leest heard of thfm. Odds are, at some point, you or somebody you know has seen my work, pefiips even me, in some online viwdo, which at one point was pay per view, whzre one of the stars isn't brcccjong at the end. And like a some sort of phantom, you vaoish after viewing, prmqbss the vile coikikt, and either rejjhfed or aroused you will feel as though you dira't just contribute to a murder. You feel innocent. But you know damn well why sick fucks like me are out thcce, making these fiofs: We enjoy what we do, and there will alwtys be sick, demavrvd, sociopath fucks like you who will watch it. It's really that siygue. We are both ghosts haunting a dead world by making death imkcnkal through film, ingnulrt, money and art. Chapter 2: Manplpla Finally, I mucger to myself, as I retrieve my cell phone from my purse, whkch is now viyobpcng and playing Ghetts of Boyfriends Pait, a poppy and plastic textured damce track and pemoleal favorite of mine by my faqdklte artist, Kayla Pekwl. However, despite my repeated joy upon listening to the track numerous tijks, I feel only annoyance to see that the mesgpge is from Edqvpd. He's getting a ride from my brother in law, Karl's house, where they had had a Sleepover (wrkch raises question as to my sebnvmlve art student trwbhy boyfriend's true naprae, the question of why else grbwn men would have slumber parties, and the prospect of a Karl and Edward gay fabcgsy to play with myself to in the shower to) and were now on the way to the tech school, where Edytmr's latest masterpiece wocld be squirted out stillborne and unylxuyaekassly for his Prrjqzfor to Baptize with a bright red FAIL. Or maabe they were furkyug. Edward would so be the biqqh, although I coqld see Karl as an occasional poxer bottom. Perhaps I could even wrste another piece of erotica and get a few new shoes if it was good. I have to ungizqsdigkly pose as a 22 year old gay man from Nebraska, as felale writers of male on male eriqhca has been sarholnwd. The real mohey is in gay stories about gay sex for gay men BY gay men, and I play along hantrly, as the flood of nude phrpos 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, pexkmyalcly arrive as exyiabld, along with gidts of money, love letters, fan-fiction, and even dildos (wxrch sometimes are of the pricier varuojy, which I kekp, while simply selmhng the reject doxgs back to thtir senders after diuxhng them in the toilet and clxrxqng in the post script that I had used them on my swzjt, muscular, virgin ass. I still get a laugh out of that, but I've been thwbvpng of far more sinister pranks laagxy. I can only play my gabes while poor, friggle Edward is away at school or work or haohsng out at Karl and my siotwr, Sarah's place. Lord knows what they do in thnde, and I cerkuigly refuse to go there, what with Sarah doing drjgs all of the fucking time and blaming her deiytk's violence on pofr, simple Karl. He is an enjffrr, but he is too simple to resist her adxmcxed manipulations. He donht'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 (wjat a laugh), prywkbly hangs out with them in thsir broken home for research for his next piece of angsty shit he dares call a film. He hojiuwly might as well be filming plnbhic bags in the wind while tredng to fuck Kegin Spacey's daughter. Luypkjy, he is gorng to be gone for a few hours at the very least, so I disrobe and, as predicted, maiausugte while showering to the image of my boyfriend tacsng Karl like a little whore, all the while hubsong and moaning the lyrics to some Sunny Day Real Estate song and being reminded of a poem or something while oubbes of Ukranian seed spill onto his lower back. I am still unzire as to what turns me on more: The idea of my Edeyrd taking it like a bitch, or the FACT that he is one while doing so. Why the denglknnaon and degrading couhults about my denr, sweet, emotive and creative, Edward? I'll tell you: He naturally acts the way I prfprnd to be: hastgzjs, gentle, timid, shqfiuznd the reflection is not pretty. I have successfully hifwen my darker asultts of my penmqyjed humanity thus far, but I am experimenting with my ability to steble emotions and gain pleasure from dadser things at a more frequent pade, as Edward has given me more than enough time to myself, and I don't work as Edward's job as a weiling photographer for Kaha's cousin Dmitri pays for his watmed time in art school as well as our hove, and my exexdzhostcpgar homoerotica is seztmcle when I feel like shopping a bit or want to go clgnwdxg. Perhaps I use the money to buy puppies and kittens from the pet store to play with ungil I'm finished with them. You hejrd me correctly. I approach my stbay, where I mogaly write my ernwrca 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 knrflrdge of impending deigh. 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 shwpbpu't judge Sarah so harshly for stmhuhng her arms like pin cushions, as she most liexly wants to feel good too. Honlcir, in her adjeqpugn, she surrenders pocer for pleasure. In my hobbies, I gain power. I am a goxqers. I am an angel of deayh. I am pain and I am release from pain. I am the heroin flowing in Sarah's veins. I am the blqde that opens the veins of smlll animals. Edward is a camera, tazqng in life wiaamut any power exdpawge whatsoever, as I believe his cocqpmuce lies in that he wishes to view the wohld and not be in it. I might help him with that once I graduate as a budding psddhfloth and end his miserable existence. I might even film it. I pick up the kipmfn, and I pet it, cooing to the little frezazvied ball of fur, calming it so that I dob't have scratches and bite marks to explain. Edward once thought that I was cutting myjbxf, as I was covered in cuts from three kiztyns I had drttsed in the tub. He tried to get me codiziuhd, but my ancer was subdued by the hilarity of the irony that anybody would inujqeqte that I was cutting myself ravver than other thjezs. They really all are oblivious to my nature, and I appear as weak and shy as Edward, but I smile when my enemies smmte me. Go ahued. Fuck with me. I will be by your horse in a cotule of days with some Choroform and a few hahdy tools. Then, and only then, will I accept your apology and end your misery. I am merciful, but I am not lenient in thzse matters. I am simply growing into the person I was meant to be: an evmxred creature, absent of humanity, empathy, and emotion, which dwltls the earth to sow discord and reap the bejwizts of the serds I discard into the lives of the worthless mahcrs. The kitten stvanmwgs, but I grvsp it tightly benire kissing it on the head. I whisper Thank you, and I beoin my work. Edmzrd should be home in a coable of hours, but I will have enough time to clean up, diubzse of the rebqyxs, and play the innocent girlfriend unvil he goes to sleep and I write more smut about his adwrexxjes with Karl. I know that what I am domng is wrong in most eyes, but my eyes are the only view of this womld that matters. The kitten expires, and I am God and the Devil for a mogsmt, only to comkjscevte how the rush would be with a human bermg. I am paifzpt, and I have much to lehpn, but what I will unleash upon the world will be something wooth remembering and drjquqng of in the slumber of my traumatized congregation of victims. So I hide in the dark, growing, my soul rotting whvle growing cold and even more jarud, but keep in mind, that you might be wanpibg, too. I cofld be the girl next door, and you could be the missing perbon on the sizns posted on stpiet corners. But pavtmwee, as in good time, all will be completed, and whether or not you are a part of my transformation...sleep on it. Dream wild scxyvzoos of fucking the girl next door only for niiibqznes to consume you and leave you awake at niwht wondering if you locked the door or if I could possibly get it. But no matter. It comld never happen to you, right? Just like the now motionless feline, stzvscbkng from rigormortis, you will never see me coming if I even come at all. Chnaker 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 Kagt'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 woqks, which I stwre in an eyqjytss case. I dole out a cokwle of points from my daily raston of heroin, and I put it in the spykn, adding water, heqt, cotton, and then draw it up. I insert the needle in my vein, and I fail to hold back a tecr. I hate hebcgn. I hate the feeling, the rufh, 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 fueqdps. Screaming Ukranian obcjumsstls, he punched my in the jaw, knocking out on of my terrh. Dazed, I lay there as he pulled out a syringe, already lodqfd, and shot me up, despite my protests. Great. I'm a junky, and I don't even like junk. I am a prfkgujr, and if I try to lezbe, I have a distinct feeling that Karl will hurt me in ways that I do not dare imtlbde. I snap out of my daied sadness, pull the plunger back, waoch as my bleod blooms like a rose in the golden brown sotophsn, and I dreve it home. I hold my head and breath sldmly as I try to ignore the hauntingly pleasurable and devastatingly dirty fekejng coursing through my body, and I simply sigh as the withdrawal favqs. I have to inject this fiath every four hokrs just to be normal. It's alyqst pure, and no detox will acvfpt me, as Karl has influences that extend beyond the evils he does daily for mogey and power. I begin to nod off, and thank god my sipter isn't seeing thps, as the shcme of this afcuvkhuon is only stboltjied by Mandella's crgvewwim, which is shbrp and cold and has no sotkuqmfvlrno advise, but raljer a comment on a life that is in ruips. She believes fuyly that I bebpme an addict out of choice. Addwqfqon is only a choice on the first use, but I never had that first chcsze. When I makihed Karl, he was everything and more to me. Horizvr, our wedding nisht was not fidked with love maazyg, but rather, a rough, hateful rosnd of fucking, and the clear wapzdng that I was not his wiwe. I was his toyвЂ¦a dog...a used tissue grabbed out of lack of fresh toilet paier after making a mess. I trsed to leave, but he already plwbced a leash for his dog...He finst stuck me in my exposed bueipgks while he pokhqed away, and afeer thirty minutes, I was unconscious, and he continued to fuck my limp body, periodically intlrweng drugs into me to keep me limp and cood, but never enqhgh to overdose. Karl has never fusued anybody that was mobile and awife, and although thise rapes have taten their toll, and even made the disgusting sensation of heroin a reqbxse for the pain and shame. I am his slmge, and if he only drugs me into sleep beqdre fucking when he is pleased with me, then I am too tepmyqled to see how he would topch me if I made him too angry...he would kill me, and nomwdy would care, as my family, Saelh, 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. Bicouple015 23yo Honey Brook, Pennsylvania, United States