"It was with this redundancy that I had another one of my psychedelic snaps that declared all matters of Physics and natural order to cease their existence. I was about to kill again."

Well, I'm in the mood for writing another first person horror story so sit back and enjoy.
I'm coming up with this as I write so bare with me.

I. Welcome

If you are reading this, than it is likely safe to assume that I am now dead and the doctors have found my diary; thus confirming my insanity and my cozy spot in Hell. My name is William P. Davis. Although I am more commonly referred to as Willy. I live here in Oak Valley Asylum where I've been confined for the past seven years for several accounts of psychological murder - The likes of which could absolutely devastate your soul and renounce all of your faith at the mere sight of the rotten, disemboweled body of a newborn child.

I have kept this diary to write about the events of my life that have led me to this hellish place and the many disturbing thoughts that run through my mind on a daily basis. If you are strong at heart and have a strong stomach, than by all means flip through the pages of this diary. However don't be shocked if you end up hanging from a noose in a closet.

I am William P. Davis and these are the events and thoughts that run through my fucked up mind.

II. Dear Insanity

I have always been considered an 'odd-ball out' and morally disturbed. As a child, I would acquire a wide, thin piece of wood and catch a bullfrog from the marsh in the woods on the outskirts of my neighborhood. The lively green and brown ones were usually the best. I would return to a building which, as cliche as it sounds, was an old abandoned slaughterhouse.

I would go to the back corner and tack the frog to the piece of wood like it was on a dissection table. Next I would pull out a pocket knife I had found in this same slaughterhouse. It was still sharp, although it had completely rusted open.
Now, the frog would be squirming quite violently at this point which as I brought the knife to it's belly would utter, "the more you move, the more this will hurt, yanno." The rusted blade would usually have no trouble cutting a opening in the frogs stomach, leaving flakes of rust sitting in the open, often bleeding wound. This is where i would have my fun.

If the frog hadn't already gone into shock from having it's stomach wrenched open, I would take a salt shaker from the pocket opposite to the one that I pulled the knife from. I would start pouring salt into the wound and the frog's head. If it struggled, I would watch and laugh at it's misery. If it just sat there, or was already in shock - I would stand up and bring my foot down upon the poor creature with all of my strength.

Before you claim me to be insane. It wasn't until the second semester of my seventh grade year that I became what one would call, "insane".

III. My Beautiful Crush

Like most twelve year old boys, I was curious about what "love" really was and had my crush; Sarah Lansing. She was quite an attractive girl. She had bleach-blonde hair that would reach her middle back and gorgeous green eyes that would enchant your soul with the most profound bliss.
I was an outcast, you see. My peers would simply ignore my existence and never allow me to play sports with them(not that I ever wanted to) and Sarah was the only person that ever showed any form of sympathy towards me. I have little regret of May 7th. I was a jealous child and upon hearing that Sarah was going to ask out another guy, I seemed to snap out of the conformity that is the logical world and be entranced to a wonderful world full of delightfully disgusting creatures that would whisper their darkest desires of genocide into my mind.

One evening I politely asked her to meet me in the abandoned slaughterhouse to show her something. She arrived at the decrepit building a mere twelve minutes after 5:00pm. I ushered her inside to where I already had one of my frogs pinned to a piece of wood. I wanted to win her heart by showing her my favorite activity. I knew she would love it and join me! This was my chance!

She thought otherwise.

As I gently cut open the frog's stomach, she screamed. As I whirled around to look at her beautiful face I saw her with her hands to her mouth. "YOU'RE AN ANIMAL!" she screamed. Upon hearing those words from her mouth, all the hatred and demonic thoughts whirled inside of me. I grabbed her arms and threw her to the ground. As I climbed on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground with my knees, she screamed again. I retrieved the knife from my pocket and began to gouge her left eye out. She was flailing quite violently so she ended up with a couple severe cuts on her face. It was her fault. When she had been blinded after removing both eyes, she somehow managed to keep from succumbing to shock and let out another blood-curdling scream that could even make the devil himself run in fear.

I ripped her shirt off and began cutting into her torso. I was amazed to see how similar a human's internal organs were compared to a bullfrog. By the time I finished making the cut, she was unconscious. It was then that I got the sickest, most wonderful idea. I cut into her throat, just below her chin, yet still above her larynx. I reached into the hole and began to yank on her tongue. After a couple minutes of ripping and tearing, the fleshy, bloody tongue came through the hole. What a way to return the girl to her parents than with a Colombian Necktie? I waited until dusk began to settle over the neighborhood before hauling her to her home in a wheel barrel.

I dumped the bloody, half-naked girl onto her family's porch. I returned to the slaughterhouse for the night and played with the eyes that I had gouged from her face. It was a shame the eyes had fogged over, I wanted to look at her beautiful eyes again. Oh well, she was a whore for talking to another man. Now I do believe it to be safe to consider me insane. Demons in my mind and human blood on my hands. However that was misdemeanor compared to the revolting and ruthless murders I was yet to commit.

As for tonight, I have told you enough about the blood I have spilled. The doctors will soon make their rounds and I need to put my diary back under the broken floorboard where it will be safe for me to write in another night. Goodnight, reader.

Okay, that's enough blood for tonight. I'll do part two tomorrow or Monday night so please be patient. Regardless- comments, ideas, and reviews are appreciated!

That was fucked up. I loved it, great job considering you wrote that on the fly. I might have some problems sleeping tonight
No problem, bro. (;
I've always had a preference towards psychological horror and once did an essay on different forms of psychological warfare. Should help a lot with upcoming entries of this. (:
Kumorii wrote:
No problem, bro. (;
I've always had a preference towards psychological horror and once did an essay on different forms of psychological warfare. Should help a lot with upcoming entries of this. (:

Haha I'm not sure if i'm looking forward to it in a positive or negative way.. nonetheless i'm definitely looking forward to it =P
Can i appear in one of your stories o-o.
Preferably the psycho in a cult, which you look up too that outwits you and disfigures your arm and makes you imputent, teaching you a lesson about the harsh realities of reality. Then you can kill me!
Seeing as William is already in an insane asylum and dead, I was going to go around the works of a more subtle and believable death seeing as he died while living in the asylum..
Oh, well the story was cool i would like to see more.

Good Job
That was pretty fucked up.

I enjoyed it.
One. Two. Two.
I'm sorry, I just don't catch what you're saying. Haha.
OH. Nevermind.

I'll fix that.
I must say that is a gruesome story, I like it. Just hope those kinda twisted thoughts aren't always on your mind!
Didn't like so much, insane protagonists are hard to do well. Seems like he just randomly does crazy stuff; not a very interesting personality. Gore can be tasteful but it needs justification.
Toadfish wrote:
Didn't like so much, insane protagonists are hard to do well. Seems like he just randomly does crazy stuff; not a very interesting personality. Gore can be tasteful but it needs justification.

I'm here now, they say I did bad things, I don't remember doing bad things, did I do bad things? No, I didn't do bad things! They're framing me, I don't deserve to be in here! Let me out! I want out now!
Well, the guy you're talking about wasn't really insane, Tib. Just really clever (if morally misguided). =P