So, why are you even here? Why are you even wasting your time to read my scribes? Looking for some cheap horror story that you would find in the trash section of however you are read this? Looking for some type of mockery to go to your friend and rip on? Well, why? Yeah, I don’t know why I am doing this and probably am just writing whatever comes to my mind. But I am not insane! I know as God as my witness that I am not! Yet everyone says so. I see people, but they cloak themselves in the eyes of others. I know thing the ended up being proven true.
If you think I am still sane, you are now wondering as to who I am, where I am from, and all of that other David Copperfield bullshit that you have come to expect. Well, my name is Soren. My last name is of no importance. If you with to know about my past and the life I was thrust into, go to the government officials and bug them about releasing my files. I tried so has some of my friends. The end result was not at all that pretty.
As I said before, I don’t know the reason as to why I am even writing any of this. It might have been my friends that have told me, the painting of the reaper that hangs above me always, or maybe it was the dead animals that people have that to hang from the tree in my front yard. I should remove them, and I want to. But, with the decomposed heads turning to me and shrieking with a sound that should awaken everyone in sight, I decided that it would be for the best to leave them.
I am an outcast, someone that you would want to leave alone. I do leave this house when the time and mood fits me, but not all that often. I have been considered this town’s main vampire on the account of my rather sharp teeth, shagged to the point, long mails, and beyond pale white skin. When children went missing and the bodies were found bound together in my front lawn, I was to blame. Yet, here is the kicker: I have no knowledge of any of this.
I am not a murderer! I never took those innocent creatures and tortured them! My entire life, I have been hated upon, put down as being different. And for what reason? Why exactly? Yet, here I am. Now, I am not complaining, I really hate to. But, I need to get all of this out somehow and for the past few years of my life, it has been building higher and higher.
I do know a few things about my past. Mainly with me never being supervised and wanting to recreate all that I had seen on an invention called a television. Mainly with the blood of animals and a few needles I found laying around. The animals were already dead when I found them. Freshly killed, too. Once it was inside of me, my eyes were clear. I could see the thing that people never could.
Above the heads of some people, I would see hazes of different colors. Depending on the tone of the color, I could tell who was who. But as time wore on, I started injecting other things. And then the consumption of different spirits that I made myself. Once it had all taken their own effect, I started to understand.
Then I saw the God of Death.
He greeted me, for a reason I can not fathom, as an equal. Then he decided to fuse with me, another thing I can not imagine as to why. As time wore on, and as my mind blocked out all of this, the authorities started coming about missing people. I never even heard of half of the people they claim to have gone missing. Then I found the bodies in my house.
I don’t know how they got in their nor do I still know. All I knew at the time was that I must get rid of them. I had no way of burying them, and that was out of the question. I knew that the states’ people were going to o another observation (when you have are an outcast of society, you are the first to be suspected). One idea that I did have was to go and eat their bodies. I mean, the bodies were fresh and with the right spices and chemicals you could resurrect their freshness, but something in me told me not to. So, I forgot about that.
Then about a week of sleep went by.
I had no dreams and the only recollection I have is that of darkness of sleep.
Then I felt sick. Going to the restroom, I felt a great pain in my stomach as I went in. after committing for about ten minutes, I started to notice something: about a few fingernails.
Rushing to the storage room where I had last seen the bodies before I passed out, I noticed that the skeletons were burnt to ashes and the meat that was on the bodies was chopped up. Stunned and looking around, I backed out with all the blood in my body no longer being near my head nor my heart. I turned and looked around until I saw something of an army of ghosts. But they were young and they were the spirits of the children that I found in my home. Turning my head away from them and screaming on top of my lungs, I tried to block out their shouts and screams and moans as they pointed their dead fingers at me with blood coming out of the tips.
They were chanting about how I had killed them, violated their bodies, and then I went on to consume them. I tried everything to ignore it. Grabbing a knife on a table, I, in a fit of madness, tried to kill the spirits. Once it dawned on me that I was stabbing spirits, I tried to end my own life. For about twenty years I have dealt with all the madness of spirits, the corruption of ghosts, and my own mind driving me to the point of insanity. Why I never did this before, I don’t know.
Taking the knife and baring my cheat, I decided to thrust the blade between my ribs and into my heart.
Then, to my own shock, I ended up waking up. In a hospital.
Once my logic and idea came back, I was informed that I was to be sent to some mental hospital for the criminally ill. Apparently, all of that which I still believe that I never did, I did. I know to the read of this, it comes as no surprise. But, for me, it was. I just can’t deal with it and given the few parts of paper I have been blessed, I decided to write whatever it is that came into my mind. I am damned to live in this hell hole for the remainder of my life and as such, I am never leaving.
I know I am not insane. I know that society did this to me due to me being an outsider. I am innocent, I am gentle. I would not even hurt the fly on my arm. Yes, that is what I will do! I won’t kill this fly. With the authorities looking at me, I will prove this to them. I won’t even hurt the fly…
Written by Soren (last name unknown)
Date Unknown.
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