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TheenD
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Joined: Mon Jun 14, 2004 8:55 am
Location: Sydney

Post by TheenD » Sat Jun 26, 2004 5:22 am

The spinning lights, swirling around. The fumbled sound of muffled speech, clicking sounds. The world keeps spinning and flickering with static. Suddenly everything shifts to a stop and a face is seen, his roundish face is framed by thick long hair that lay dishevelled over his face. His ill-shaven face lay loose, weariness obviously showing. He stares at the camera for a second, then stepping back he extends the camera view to encompass the entire room. The screen suddenly becomes incredibly dark, I lean forward to see what this man was showing me. Something glissened unevenly on the table, the room was obviously a kitchen. The wooden cupboards and seventies decor reminded me of the home I wished I had. The screen rocked back and forth as the camera was lowered to the floor. Now all I could see was the legs of a table, a liquid was running down the legs and pooling on the floor.

After a couple of muffled footsteps, the room was bathed in red. The pool of blackness became the centre of my focus. The screen began moving again as the man picked up the camera and spun it around to face him. I could see now, his face was splattered with blood, his hair was matted with a slick layer of red. The man gave the camera a exasperated look.

"Why did you make me?" his voice was unsteady yet commandered a respectful tone. He bowed his head, catching his breath. The screen started shaking. "Why?! You sick fuck!" He lifted his head slightly, a look of complete disgust on his face. The room once became a spinning blur, but soon the room stood still.

The knife stood upright, framed by the light seeping through the curtins. A figure lay sitting at the table, his body slumped over the table. Blood flooded the table, trickeling down the legs of the chair and table. The knife embedded in the back of the figure's head.

"There! You sick fuck! Give them back! Give me back FAMILY!" his voice was drowned in tears. Words sputtered from his mouth through chaotic sobbing. The screen shook back and forth, before falling to the ground. Static filled the screen.

Setting back in my chair, the metal chair creaks beneath me. The screen is still abuzz with static. The stark room around me, a tomb for my thoughts. Echoing back at me, with greater intensity than when they were concieved.

The videos had begun dropping into mailbox since I had moved in. They were few and infrequent but the facination that it gave birth within overwhelmed my sense of logic. The police were far from my thoughts as I stared mesmerised by the carnage and cruelty. These were murders, from within someone's conciousness came these scenes.

The left hand that was resting on my left knee began tapping rapidly. They varied, the murders. Never the same person that committed them. They were always orchestrated so definitely, like a doctor performing surgery. Whether they were forced to or not, the execution was always elaborate. Although this one video was particularly brash, the man had no finesse, his desperation was always evident as he plunged the knife again and again into the back of the victim's head. Screaming for his family, for his life to back to how it was. It was human cruelty at it's best.

And I loved it. What started off as curiousity soon exploded into an obsession that filled my life. The power that was displayed on the screen, the raw uninhibited human nature. Is this is what we become when we can't see the light at the end of the tunnel? Ravenous, unrelenting, devils.

I pressed the eject button, after a whirring and clicking the tape popped out. It's neatly typed label read "Case No. 23". It looked official, like a police record. The brown packaging it came in lay ripped and dissected on the table. Walking over to a wooden panel in the wall, I tugged at the loose end. It popped off with a soft creak, revealing my video collection numbered carefully. Making room for number twenty-three I slotted the video in. I found my fingers travelling across the top of the stacked videos, they stopped at one of my favourites. Number 13.

One of the better executed killings. The woman that perpetrated the crime had a keen mind, she set everything up so perfectly. The pistol shot to the head which sent the man flying backwards, his head slamming into the backwall, before folding forward with only a few twitches. I would play that scene over and over again, sometimes in slow motion, both on the TV and in my mind.

I tabbed at the edge of the video. It slid out. The doorbell rang. I pushed the video back in and placed the wooden panel back to it's original place. Taking the stairs, I arrived in the hallway. The was a man and a women at the door. They were dressed rather formally, in greyed out suits. The man looked rather large, his face was chubby yet exhumed intelligence. His black curly hair was cropped short, and his eyes looked like they had sunken into his face. He gave me a reasurring smile, it somehow seemed condescending. The woman looked much more serious, her redish-blonde hair was neatly combed 3/4 around her round pointed face. Her face remained neutral.

"LAPD, we'd like to ask you a few questions."

My hands twitched as I stood stunned in the hallway. My hands gripped that invisible knife in my hand. The wood creaked under my feet and suddenly everything came tumbling back, the repurcussion of what I had done. People were dieing, people were being slaughtered and I was sitting in the audience by myself. Drinking the flowing blood.

Suddenly I realised that I was still standing at the doorway, staring at the space between the two people in front of me. I had my keys danglingfrom my frozen hand. I quickly opened the door and let the two people in.

"What, what is this about?" The man gave me an unresuring smile.

And the imaginary knife in my hand flashed and glistened. The detectives looked around the house with their faces of mocking interest. The man's faced leared into a smug look, squashing his nose further into a piglike impression. His face swooped down from his perch to peer into my eyes.

"Nothing much sir, just a few routine questions," imediately he began a sweeping walk around the hallway which connected to the living room. With his hand he pointed at all the decorative modern art around my house. "These are really, exquisite". Shocked at first, I soon realised that he was truly at awe of my collection. Composing myself from my tense nature the knife in my hand disapeared.

"Y-yes, my ex-wife was an artist," the detective looked like he had been pinched on the back of his head. He completed his trip around the living room premature and headed straight for me, his face inquisitive yet suddenly menacing. "Ex-wife?"
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Vandire
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Post by Vandire » Sat Jun 26, 2004 5:29 am

...wow...

not sure what to call it, but it was cool

well executed shall we say
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