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So far, in this journal, I've demonstrated some of the horrors I've observed in the oustide world, or that I've learned from the various circles I now correspond within. Although I am trying to maintain a slight level of anonymity about myself, today I feel I will present some information about me. I am quite content to remain The Observer, the unseen eyes that witness the bad things of the world, but I also think for the sake of objectivity, that I present at least a small fraction of what makes me somewhat less normal than my readers may believe.
I don't fool myself into believing that anybody reading this collection of observations sees me as normal by any sense of the word. I'm certain I'm viewed as outright mad already, and I'll not be surprised if after this is read, that I'll be viewed as almost monstrous.
( With that in mind, you may read on at your own discretion )
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It is a common misconception that rabbits are adorable, fluffy, cuddly, loving creatures as we read in children's stories. In actuality, rabbits don't care for human beings in the slightest. It is safe to say that rabbits actually despise human beings above all things, even the animals who would be considered their greatest predators.
This is not to say that an uprising of the furry rodents is inevitable, or even of any concern. Rabbits hardly contain the mental capacity, nor the organizational skills to band together and wipe mankind from the face of the earth. No, they are simply content to watch us from their cages and quietly hate us for reasons heretofore unknown to us (It's recently been mentioned that their loathing is caused by the fact that, for the most part, humans actually enjoy sex, while rabbits simply have it profusely without enjoying its benefits. I personally hold no belief in this possibility, as I've yet to find sex enjoyable enough that it would evoke envy in any other creature).
That being said, it's also unknown to most that rabbits are in fact capable of dancing. They very much enjoy prancing about with other rabbits and assorted woodland creatures, or if in captivity on their own, dancing with themselves. They will never allow a human to witness this phenomenon however, unless the human meets certain requirements. Such is a rabbits loathing for humans, that the only way a rabbit will allow you to watch it dance is to approach it wearing the skin of a freshly murdered human. Silence will follow for several minutes as the rabbit merely stares at you, weighing its hatred for you against the fact that you just removed yet another human from the world. Shortly after however, the rabbit will demonstrate the dance of the rabbits for you. The dance lasts a half an hour at the most before the rabbit darts off into the bushes, or if in captivity, slumps back down and resumes twitching its nose at you.
Now, it is important to note that rabbits are terrible dancers. Human laws being what they are in nearly all parts of the known world, the repurcussions that follow killing and skinning a human being simply to watch a rabbit dance make it simply not worth the effort.
However, a plea of insanity is often upheld in these cases. Naturally.
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Wednesday, May 30th, 2007
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The opening of a door is an action that has seen more than its fair share of metaphoric use throughout human history. There are many valid reasons why this is. Doors block things from our path, and so opening one will often reveal new and unseen paths or objects. An opened door can unleashed something that was intended to stay hidden, or it can trigger events. Something so simple as turning a doorknob and opening a door can have disastrous results.
( Open the Door )
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Wednesday, May 23rd, 2007
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It's funny, the amount of trust we put into people performing such common tasks...
Today I thought I would get my hair cut. It usually comes as a quick thought to me, despite my nauseating sense of vanity. When the thought enters my head, I typically make my way to the local hairdresser's and peek inside. If my favorite lady is working I'll go inside and quietly grab a magazine.
I'll wait for any length of time for her to be finished with her customers so that she can cut my hair. It seemed to me that we had a silent adoration for one another. I appreciated how she could always make my hair look the way I wanted, and she appreciated that I always afforded her with politeness and quiet respect. It never occurred to me that I was letting a woman I barely knew, use blades near my head.
So few of us really stop to wonder just what kind of mind controls those scissors or that straight razor. Do we really truly know who is hanging our heads helplessly back over a cold silver sink? These thoughts never crossed my mind, and probably would never do so had I thought of doing something else with my free time today.
( A little off the top, the rest is under the cut )
It's very true that we don't know just what kind of person we're letting get close to us with sharp objects. It never crosses our minds that the scissors cutting our hair could have just been washed clean of blood mere minutes before we entered the shop. The woman cutting your hair could be a totally normal person, she could be a maniacal cold-blooded murderer, or she could be an otherwise good woman who had desperation forced upon her until she finally gathered the courage to act.
We simply never know.
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Here is where the old journal ends, and the new recordings have begun. The scrawlings below are still important, and thus will remain as they are.
Now however, the observations recorded after this entry have proven to be of great importance to me, The Observer. All things recorded above are recorded elsewhere in a more physical form, but I have decided that some of the information here could be very valuable in the future, the present and... if some of YOU are reading... even the past.
Take what you will from these written recordings. But know that what I see and record here could very well be twisted to the point of absolute absurdity. The mind behind this "journal" isn't as sturdy as others. Seeing the things I've seen, knowing the things I know and experiencing the things I've experienced, have left me very seriously doubting my own sanity.
If you have seen anything similar, if any of this actually makes sense to you, please come forward. It is nice to know I may not be alone...
( The Method to the Madness )
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Thursday, November 13th, 2003
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Good afternoon my beautiful and appreciated readers. I know it has been some time since last I wrote anything to you lot. Things have been rather interesting on my end, I've been occupied with many matters.
An interesting development is that I have found every last page of my old journal, the one written whilst I was alive of course. I've led a very interesting life, I can hardly wait for you all to read every last word of it. It will definetely take some time as I've lived a full... eventful life.
However, I've some minor business to attend to at the moment. A few of my new... acquisitions... require my attendance as well as several lessons in pain and the knowledge gained from it.
So a more in depth update will be brought to you all, glistening in the crimson viscera that you all so fervently crave.
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Welcome back to my journal kiddies. I would just like to take the time to thank everyone who has been reading and enjoying my writing thus far. Keep in mind of course that I am a murderer and not a literary master, so if my writing does not meet the standards of any greats such as Clive Barker or J.R.R. Tolkien I simply ask that you focus more on what I am trying to convey, rather than how I convey it.
People take things too literally now.
The darkness is strange tonight. I can feel it keeping its distance from all humans at the moment. I'd suggest caution to anyone walking the streets at night for the next couple of days. Do not question my concern for your well being as, if you are reading it, enjoying it, and are finding some truth in it then I would not like you to die just yet.
But on to the event that followed the murders...
( I watched the doors fly open )
Well, that was a rather long winded episode wasn't it? It's far from over of course... but it gets better and better as we go along.
I would Love to write more, but things must be done before the sun rises.
Goodnight kiddies
~Vizriel
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Thursday, April 17th, 2003
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It has been some time since I have posted the continuation of my revenge. It seems a shame that I started so long ago and have only written this much. I assure you, I have much to write. I have found my old journal, detailing my killings when I was mortal, and I intend to write about my most recent killings. The latter of which has grown exponentially during the time I have been absent.
I have watched the world slowly grind its way into nullification as of late. The shoulders of people I see consistently hunch over from the excess weight they force themselves to carry. A weight they allow to crush them.
Humanity is beginning its decay. However, their reign is ending entirely too late. They should have left long ago and I intend to hurry this process. It is discouraging to know I was once a part of this race.
Of course, if I elaborate on this anymore I will be getting into an entirely more bizarre and different story. So I return with my next detailed account of my murders of vengeance.
( The air was beginning to reek of copper )
Goodness... that was a long one was it not? But of course, perhaps it makes up for my lengthy absence. And besides, at the rate I am killing people I will have to be quick about advancing the story before I kill too many to write within your lifetimes.
But please, read on... as always I Love having readers...
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Thursday, March 13th, 2003
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I have decided to add actual journal entries along with my memories of murder...
As you will find out soon enough in my life, I've very little time to indulge in free time. Mine is a constant struggle that rarely affords opportunity to simply stretch out and relax. Though of course, relaxation is hardly something I require anymore... being dead and all.
I am sure all of you are quite well acquainted with the threat of war and the all too silly events of Sept 11th and such. America was sure to make those globally heard, but of course, if we look at our lives recently, once those planes hit those towers it seemed as though some kind of rift opened in reality and things began spinning in a way that was much more destructive than normal. Of course, once September 11th happened for me, my life changed. I was already quite a successful killer by then, but I noticed other things have happened since. People are dying en masse...
Of course I am entirely too pleased with this as my loathing of humans grows with each passing day, but when I was alive, none of it made sense. I knew it was somehow connected, but I wasn't entirely sure how. From then on, things started going wrong for mankind until I myself died.
and now I know exactly why people are all dying, and why war is ready to wipe this world clean...
Of course, you'll all have to follow me into death if you wish to know. And without further delay, some more murder, bloodshed, screaming and overall fun.
I know that's what you humans desire.
( Read more... )
I then stepped back to admire the unwilling mother, the tormented unborn child screaming from her womb, and the man below, whom I hoped would learn his lesson... for in order to understand a woman, one must get inside her, or at least get her insides on you.
And I turned to my remaining three victims, and wondered... what fun will I have with them?
Dear Readers: I was in a bit of a hurry this particular time around, and could not put as much effort into my writing as I normally do. I assure you however, the actual event itself was entirely more satisfying...
~V~
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And now my ever so appreciated readers... the part I am sure you have awaited...
DEATH...
( Read more... )
And then there were five...
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Wednesday, February 26th, 2003
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My revenge was here, I could already feel their blood washing over my skin.
The shadows directed me to what seemed like a window from our world into theirs. I watched as it slowly faded into view, and I realized that it wasn't that it was slowly becoming real. In this new place, everything was immediate, except for my understanding of my surroundings. Just as a newborn's eyes slowly adjust to light entering them, so did my mind have to adjust to understanding how the darkness worked. And as soon as this one portal opened, countless others did as well. It was then that I knew why there were so many, and why they were spread out as far as my new eyes could see. Every shadow cast in the living world, the world I was just banished from, was a doorway out of our world. I had many options to choose from.
I could watch my killers as they enjoyed themselves at my expense, my body already much more mutilated than it had been when I first left the pitiful mortal coil. I watched them for a moment, planning my attack before I heard the voices ring through the air and into my mind once again.
"Don't think about it, trust your instincts. You've been killing this long, you'll be surprised how much it has simply become a way of life for you" They said. The sound of their voices sounded like a throat filled with shards of glass, constantly echoing itself to the point of it almost being a perpetual moan. It would terrify me had I still been alive and fear were a concern. But it only comforted me now.
I smiled slowly, and with that I recognized my new body. It looked exactly like my old one, though not sliced beyond recognition. Since I was not actually rooted to my body I could look at it as though I were a person simply walking by. There were a few differences in my appearance now however. My hair had become completely black, and my eyes were dark vacant portals of shadow, they almost seemed to absorb light. My skin, was still white despite the blackness around me, though now I looked as though I was shaped from porcelain rather than lumped together out of crude fallible flesh. And I think anyone who took killing seriously would appreciate the addition to biological weapons to my form. My smile revealed to me two vicious fangs, and my fingers were tipped with claws black as obsidian.
I was entirely too pleased, I almost felt as though I should thank those who killed me. Of course, they would have to pay for desecrating my corpse. And so I picked a decent portal into the world of the living and stepped forward, to claim my revenge.
(the suspense is killing you all isn't it? ..... oh goody)
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Monday, February 24th, 2003
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Revenge... it would come much sooner than I had thought. Before slipping into death I thought that I would have to wait for my slow reincarnation process or some silly thing like that.
I was proven quite wrong, thankfully within a matter of seconds. For you see the shadows travel faster than the speed of light. The shadows don't need to travel at all, they are simply there... everywhere, always.
I was whisked away from my body instantly, I felt all restrictions leave me. I could move in ways no human could imagine, my mind had no capacity to it, my senses, even time itself seemed completely unnecessary. I was in a place that looked like it was completely composed of shadows, like everything was carved from ebony. There was no light, simply different concentrations of darkness all around me. The sight would have been maddening to a simpler being, but for someone who had spent so much time in the darkness as I had, this was a greater sight than any I had ever seen. I felt as though I belonged here, if there was in fact a Heaven, I thought, perhaps I was there.
"Not quite... older than that" I heard what sounded like several voices say to me. I jumped instictively, but realized that fear didn't touch me like it used to. It was present, it simply had no hold over me as it would were I still living in a mortal body. I turned to look for a source for the voice, but found no body or anything that could logically produce a sound. It seemed however that everything around me was speaking. It was as though my surroundings were comprised of people. Then, I looked around a bit more and remembered, I was in the alleyway just outside the club, from all those years ago. My first kill...
I stammered out "Am... am I making this place?" I asked, wondering if in fact some part of my subconscious was forging this place from the spirits or shadows that dwelled here.
"Yes you are Vizriel" they answered. "This was where it all began for you... and this is where it all shall begin again. You are far from dead, in fact you are much more than alive... we shall not tell you everything yet. As with everything, you must learn your birthright before you claim it. But there is one thing you can claim right now. Are you ready to avenge yourself?" The voices asked.
Without hesitation I clenched my fists and said "Oh yes..." I paused a moment in thought however.
"You need not worry about your tools. Those simple metal knives, hooks and chains you used are useless to you now. You will realize very soon that you are more equipped to kill than ever before" The voices said to me.
I smiled as I turned from that place and into what looked like a mirror reflection of the very chapel in which I was killed.
I would soon claim my revenge... and begin my new life as part of death
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Saturday, February 22nd, 2003
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I remember the way it felt, my throat being slit. After all the other pain I was put through, and the blood I had already lost, I was able to focus on it with a relieved, albeit blurry, mind. I could describe the way it felt to have my flesh slowly split away, just like the way you would imagine carving an uncooked chicken.
My flesh was happy to lift away from the blade as my blood began pooling in the reservoirs carved into the ceremonial block upon which I was tied. I watched as my killers, insane copycat cultists... my greatest fanclub I suppose you could say, imbibed my blood greedily. I watched those silver goblets fill as I turned my head this way and that, now losing command power over my muscles. They sloshed my blood out of their chalices and I heard it splatter on the floor. They all laughed and moaned with erotically charged lust in their bodies, several came to orgasm, releasing whatever pressure had built up within them onto my newly forming corpse.
They attempted to crucify me on a stone slab, making me the martyr of all true horriffic visionaries. For one, I hate Jesus and it is the greatest insult to me to be made into a martyr for people I would rather slice open and chain to walls than save with my death...
I remember my last thoughts as a living creature.
I had spent those last years of my life as the greatest killer the world had seen. I had gained notoriety in the underground as well as being publicly worshipped as a genius.
A madman, but a genius...
I am not mad of course, I simply see beauty in death, and the possibility that anybody can be made beautiful when made dead. I took care in my masterpieces, I Loved my models after they became my permanent mannequins. My hooks, knives, ropes, anything I had used to kill were my tools, my paintbrushes and pens. I had accomplished some great things.
My pieces had made their way into the private collections of some of the world's leading art collectors. The world was finally beginning to see the beauty in its destruction, as it was passionately carved out of bone and flesh by my hands.
But these... my obsessors, these vile dopplegangers attempted to claim the life of their favorite artist and make me into one of the creatures I had so lovingly created. To make the artist into a piece of their own art. It was to be the greatest and most flattering way for any artist to die.
If it were done right!
The lack of care they took in my killing, the absence of soul in their knife strokes; Relishing my own pain was all I could do to drown out their lack witted attempt at recreating one of my beauties. They spilled my blood haplessly without regard to its potential. I could have been the greatest canvas ever made, but I was wasted by no talents, imbeciles, and Motherfucking Morons!
All of these thoughts streamed through my mind within the span of a blink, a blink which signalled my fading out of life, and into Death...
I heard them all scream in pleasure as my eyes slowly closed. They had attained short victory for now. But it would soon come to pass that I would return, and each of them would be a greater canvas than I ever could have imagined.
For what better way to artistically appreciate Death, than to be Dead?
This, was only the beginning...
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Monday, February 17th, 2003
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Nothing Nothing Nothing...
I hate the void in my brain especially when I know it is because my mind is too full
CAPACITY REACHED! EVACUATE NOW!
...........
didn't work...
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Thursday, December 5th, 2002
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It has been long since we last saw him...
I am here, barely. I had hardly believed a Demon could experience something so close to utter oblivion as this. Mere months ago I could see this kind of fate befalling an Angel, but a Demon, something so independent and self-controlling as I; it was never a concept to cross my mind. That I would be so drawn to giving up, and ultimately accepting the pointlessness of my existence never seemed possible. But it is happening...
It is because of her. I know I must claim responsibility for everything I am in right now... but had I not met her...
I met her in a club. She was strikingly beautifulher eyes were covered with a blindfold, but she was not sightless. In her arms was cradled the decaying body if a dead baby, her own putrid blue eyes rolling about independently of one another in the head of a porcelain doll mounted atop the rotting fetus. All around her the scent of the dead permeated the air, clinging to it. The air was moist and heavy with the saturation of death around her, even my skin tingled as I came into close range of her. She was beautiful... she spoke in small sonnets, bits of broken poetry, and oftentimes she wept silently, crying out her verses or inane speech and mumbling single words from a sentence under her crypt like breath.
I could only sit and stare at times, as even in the millennia long life I'd lived I had not encountered something like her. She was like some avatar to madness, if not madness herself. She reeked of the grave, flies a\swarmed about her and her flesh pulsated beneath shoddy stitching. I admit, my heart may have had something to do with it. This is the main reason why I have fallen into submission... why I am now weakening... I succumbed to my true enemy... my damned heart
more later...
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Wednesday, November 27th, 2002
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we interrupt the arrival for something else...
I haven't dissected my view of humanity for some time now... so please... bear with me.
I'm sick of what I see... almost to the point of physical illness. My brain is now telling me to hit certain keys... almost as if it wants to tell me something I have no concept of consciously. All that aside... freeform writing has not been a talent of mine, of course I wouldn't call it a talent anyway. Y'know, nobody can say "Hey I'm a talented random thinker... unless they were wicked awesome... I do know some people who are good at it. I guess better than me. ok, back to humanity... and its shitpile
It is a sad thing, but humans are predominantly evil again... I honestly had faith in them, thinking they were all rather impressive, that they had some kind of redeemable qualities to them, and they do... sadly, the negative dwarfs the positive.
Nothing is good enough... the sins really do live within every human being. Gluttony, Greed, Pride... Wrath... Envy... Lust (my favorite) to many extents... and of course Sloth (I hate the word for that... it's an animal for fuck sake..).
We're parasitic, viral... we are living off of others. Could be why am so terrified of lice, fleas, earwigs, and tapeworms and crap... and humans are no better. Of course, our parasitic ways are a kind of double-edged sword. Somebody hurts us, we take that pain and use another to rub it off. A parasite never kills its host... which is what makes us viral. Humans slaughter other humans in their own name, the name of a misunderstood and misinterpreted God, or for money, fame, power, etc. We do not keep our "hosts" alive. We rarely give something beneficial back to keep those we feed off of alive. We do give them things of course, but the things we give them only further the extermination process, dig us all a deeper hole in our collective grave.
To Afghanistan, With Love: 666 kilotons of Nuclear fuck you
there's one good example...
Dear NYC: Happy Death Day, hope you like the package we sent you... look up
We've got guns, drugs, bombs, and apparently boxcutters, and we ain't afraid to use the fuckers. Funny, how the people in power are the most pathetic examples of humanity we can name at the moment isn't it? George Bush, elected as President of the U.S. The only thing he is doing right now that has not gotten him assassinated is shed a bunch of tears on Sept. 11th, and wage a "War on Terrorism"... What a joke. If Clinton waged that war whilst getting head from his intern, he'd still be in power and the war against terrorism would have ended long ago. Clinton, the most competent President the U.S. I have seen in office, should have stayed after getting a hummer, if Bush could piss China off like that, and still be the President.
I don't know what the Hell I'm talking about anymore...
We are all our own countries now... people retreating into their borders, and raising giant walls around themselves. We've all declared a war on one another, trust has faded, happiness is liquifying infront of us, fading into mist. I can not smile at someone's baby or child without them eyeing me like I'm going to kidnap, rape and kill them. We'll all wage this invisible war on one another, and one by one we'll all disappear.
Of course, I don't hate every human on Earth. There are many shining examples still around... few and far between though they are. People who still have a low enough wall to see over, people who've opted to sit on the fences they've set up around their personal "Northwest Terry-tories" People who've seen the parasitic ways of humankind and are trying to break the chain. I've many of these people close to me now... Thank God...
But, is it too little too late? Ever the optimist, I like to think not... of course, ever the dramatist, I hope it comes down to a bloody battle...
But if we do not act, if we do not open our eyes despite the blinding lights of ignorance around us... humanity will be infected with its own disease... we will devour ourselves, our Loved ones, and the entire planet, from the inside out...
By the way, proof positive that humans are fucking disgusting parasites, control freaks, blind zealots and otherwise morons is right here
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Saturday, November 23rd, 2002
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As the rage within the waves of the seas pound mercilessly against the beach we see the Seven Sins aboard the ships formed of human carcasses.
Pride, we've seen... Pride we'll know...
Then, floating across the waves, lightly his ship dances over the ocean as it approaches, Lust breaks the horizon. Aboard his ship is an entire crew, slaves chained and tethered to hi boat, much to their pleasure. An entire Harem engaging in orgiastic rites, their carnal cries echoing over the pounding of the waves as you see mortals in every position nameable, and some in positions unfathomable to conception. Women and men, their heads buried within each other's laps, hips grinding together so violently that bones would crack were they pressed any further. Whips crack as men bend under the influence of woman's power. All of this commotion rages on the deck below, as upon the crows nest of the ship we see our Master of Lust.
His indigo hair glimmers in the crimson light of the sky, as he slowly lifts his face from the neck of a pale skinned beauty. Blood adorns her neck, flowing freely down her bare chest as she moans, inches from lifeless. He casts her over the side, paying no heed as she falls amongst a welcome mass of writhing pleasure zealots to happily join the fray. Tall stands our master of Lust, his form thin. His features are effeminate and his movements are graceful. With a gentle lick of his tongue he cleans his pearl white skin of his victim's blood. He wears tight clothes to accentuate his beautiful form. His crimson eyes then slowly draw to the beach upon which they will land and his ebon lips pull up at the corners in a wicked grin.
His crimson eyes glow so vibrantly that the air would seem to rain blood were it any brighter.
"We're getting closer"
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Thursday, November 21st, 2002
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I announce their coming. It is not far off now... my mortality ebbs away again... I can feel it. The blood within that keeps me vibrant, but restricted to mortal ends seems to have returned to whence it came.
But now, the tides return, swifter than before. And the sands that once housed silence, tranquility, and peace are stirred by the coming of the water. A rush of swirling, burning crimson blood swells up from the sea, moving against the influence of the moon, in defiance of its goddess.
The blood of the Demons has returned to the sands. The light colored dry sand soaks with this roiling chaotic fluid and becomes black as onyx, sheening over as the waves pulse like veins pumped by a monolithic heart, fuelled by magma and shade.
On the writhing, living waves of the unholy sea, we see them. They return once again to the previously abandoned shores behind eyes. Each rise and fall of the waves propells them further forward, eyes as red as the last scream before death, claws solidified shadows sharpened to razor points. Fangs glimmer amongst the blood tide, white as angel feathers. Warcries and sinful dictations come before them, as the sound vibrates through the air, product of their unfathomable will.
Galleons of human bone carry them only as luxury across this unforgiving sea of blazing rage. Seven ships formed of decomposing dead bob upon these waves, seven ships, seven captains, seven sins. A militia, self-removed from Hell. Each Demon representing one of these seven deadly sins...
The first ship breaches the sea, carving through the fire and blood like a dragon waking from millennia of slumber. Atop the deck of the skeletal ship rides an army of the dead. The bones of fallen and slain enemies all arranged in perfect stone still formation ride, facing forward, their vacant eyes aimed for the shore. His army, the servants of a Master who sees mortals as little more than walking corpses to begin with. Suddenly, as the shore draws nearer, he bellows to them, and the 6 ships behind.
"WE HAVE ARRIVED... BEGIN THE FALL OF CREATION!"
Riding at the front of the ship, perched atop the figurehead, wings spread skyward, eyes focused on the destination, Pride stands. His eyes burn with an indominable will, insurmountable power and knowledge. Formidable this commander of Sin appears, the long sword at his back appears newly forged, most of his enemies having fled in terror at sight of him rather than fight him. His stone cold, emotionless visage eyes the newly approaching shore and the cold exterior melts for a split second as he flashes a pleased grin. They had arrived...
And the next ship passed into view...
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My apologies everyone for my creative sluggishness...
inspiration will hit again... I can feel it.
Crap shall be flushed... I know it...
I know what'll help...
Manowar...
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spyder_bite's journal
contemplative.
bouncy.
indescribable.
amused.
drained.
mischievous.
groggy.
accomplished.
annoyed.
artistic.