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Showing posts with label murder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label murder. Show all posts
12.08.2007
Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 7)
THE SCIENTIST
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the right is the most mysterious. Their backgrounds, their minds -- all is off limits to a certain extent. Everyone else at the table thinks they know this couple but rest assured, they don't. They are a power couple but they don't flaunt it. Instead, they just do and leave it at that. No need to talk, no need to gloat, and definitely no need to make themselves spectacles. The man on the outside, who refuses to fully expose his face, is the ringleader. He does not want his face in this picture. The only reason he looks at the camera, partially showing himself, is to not draw too much attention. If he were completely missing, that would be a little too suspicious. He has much too much on his mind to focus completely on the camera.
This party is the fruition of his plan and his wishes. He has a very unique relationship with each individual. The Soldier and he served in the war together; only he was the lieutenant rather than just a private. Although the Soldier has no idea, this man witnessed many of the secrets and ritual killings that took place overseas. The lieutenant had observed from afar but never been noticed and never brought it up. They remain friends but the lieutenant is utterly disgusted with the private that served under him -- completely disgusted.
He was a close friend of the Socialite's parents. The mother had confided in him many a time that she suspected something peculiar between her husband and her daughter. Naturally, he comforted her and reassured her that it was an absurd presumption. When he later heard about the murder, he knew that he had given false comfort. In his heart, he knows that the surviving young woman was the cause for two deaths and yet she acts as if nothing ever happened. She sees him as a sweet longtime family friend that has always offered support. His disgust runs deep for the socialite. He sees her as a human abomination.
The Satanist was a cute that he ran into outside one day while he was walking his Labrador. They became relatively good friends. He would invite her over for tea, cigarettes, and the occasional gin. It was a nonsexual relationship that involved mostly a good amount of talking about everything from popular culture to politics to what America has become in the last fifty years and where it will be in the next fifty. It was a beautifully healthy relationship until spirituality entered the picture. He made it well known that he believed in an all powerful creator, although he was unsure whether or not the ideas believed in the Judeo-Christian world were enough for him. The conversation took a turn when he mentioned that the idea of a fallen angel trying to fight against God was a preposterous notion. "It would be like a house cat trying to fight a good sized dog," he said. The Satanist forced a smile but that was the last time she came over. Two weeks later, the man's Labrador disappeared from the front porch area of his house. However, there was a black house cat tied to the dog's leash. He knew exactly what had happened but he never brought it up in the sporadic subsequent conversations that took place later on. She would always smile and he would smile back. Deep in his heart, he knew what she was and she disgusted him.
His relationship with the Sophisticate was an interesting one to say the least. They had known each other in the early years of the Sophisticate's horse racket. Offering his connections and vast leads, he helped his friend’s business flourish. They were stellar partners. After that run ended and the Sophisticate was hanging by a thin thread, the man offered him a job. He kindly thanked him but refused the offer because of his pride. So instead, the man gave him some money, which did not need to be paid back, in order to reestablish himself. Later, the man heard that the Sophisticate was back on his feet with a new late night business. This brought a smile to his face. He was happy to have helped someone in need and eager to see what his money had been put toward. As soon as the man walked into the Sophisticate's new office, he left -- disgusted.
For a number of years, he had a relationship with the Saint because she often was his teller at the bank. He liked her as a person. She was cordial, personable, and had a good spirit. Many a time she would talk to him about Christianity but never in a pushy way -- he liked that. He never swayed toward her beliefs but he respected them because he so highly respected her. When he found out that she had married the Sophisticate, he also found out that her sister-in-law was the Satanist. He could not believe that someone so sweet could be so naive. How could she be involved with such a disgusting pair? From then on, he ceased going to her at the bank. Her ignorance disgusted him.
This is a man who loves his wife. She is the only one who truly knows him. Everyone else thinks him to be a businessman, or a retired military man, or just an intellectual. But in actuality, he is a devoted scientist who refuses to expose his talent and livelihood to anyone -- except for his wife. After all, she is his creation. After his encounters with all of these people at the table, he lost his faith in humanity and decided that only an artificial being could satisfy him. Really though, he created her as a tool -- a tool to destroy the ones who had so jaded his perception. For years, he has been planning this event. This is the third and final Christmas party that all of these individuals will attend together. They're comfortable and unsuspecting. The time is perfect. After this picture is taken, the rest of the guests leave, and it is just their table left drinking some late night beverages mixed with a powerful sedative, he will murder every last one of them.
He knows that his wife plans to murder him after the others are gone. She doesn't know he knows but that's because she is only a machine. That is why he will force her to kill herself in front of the others so that those scarred by suicides will rekindle their horror. Then he will systematically kill the rest, starting with the Satanist -- the piece of filth that stole his dog. That way, everyone will die having been a witness to, or at least affected by, a suicide and a murder. Next will be the Socialite. She will be spinning after seeing another woman murdered. It will conjure up memories of his parents. Her death will hurt the Soldier. Then the man will tell him that he knows his secrets and witnessed his ritual killings. Then he will slice the Soldier’s throat. The last two left will be the Sophisticate and the Saint. The man will kill the Sophisticate and speak to the Saint as she cries. He will explain that these were all terrible people and that she should have known better. And right when she thinks that God will save her because she is the only good one there, the man will tell her that she will not want to go on living with these kinds of images burned into her memory. Then he will kill her.
At that point, he will use his knowledge of science to dispose of the bodies and completely clean the scene of any evidence. After that, he will take a small dose of cyanide and take a nap in a large incinerator because he will not be able to live with himself. He will know that what he did was just but his mind will never be the same and no achievement will ever live up to the complexity and precision of this particular plan. In the end, it will simply seem as if none of them ever existed. The earth will be rid of seven corrupt individuals and the abuse of life will be replaced by necessary death. And no one will remember the Mammoth Christmas Party of 1956.
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the right is the most mysterious. Their backgrounds, their minds -- all is off limits to a certain extent. Everyone else at the table thinks they know this couple but rest assured, they don't. They are a power couple but they don't flaunt it. Instead, they just do and leave it at that. No need to talk, no need to gloat, and definitely no need to make themselves spectacles. The man on the outside, who refuses to fully expose his face, is the ringleader. He does not want his face in this picture. The only reason he looks at the camera, partially showing himself, is to not draw too much attention. If he were completely missing, that would be a little too suspicious. He has much too much on his mind to focus completely on the camera.
This party is the fruition of his plan and his wishes. He has a very unique relationship with each individual. The Soldier and he served in the war together; only he was the lieutenant rather than just a private. Although the Soldier has no idea, this man witnessed many of the secrets and ritual killings that took place overseas. The lieutenant had observed from afar but never been noticed and never brought it up. They remain friends but the lieutenant is utterly disgusted with the private that served under him -- completely disgusted.
He was a close friend of the Socialite's parents. The mother had confided in him many a time that she suspected something peculiar between her husband and her daughter. Naturally, he comforted her and reassured her that it was an absurd presumption. When he later heard about the murder, he knew that he had given false comfort. In his heart, he knows that the surviving young woman was the cause for two deaths and yet she acts as if nothing ever happened. She sees him as a sweet longtime family friend that has always offered support. His disgust runs deep for the socialite. He sees her as a human abomination.
The Satanist was a cute that he ran into outside one day while he was walking his Labrador. They became relatively good friends. He would invite her over for tea, cigarettes, and the occasional gin. It was a nonsexual relationship that involved mostly a good amount of talking about everything from popular culture to politics to what America has become in the last fifty years and where it will be in the next fifty. It was a beautifully healthy relationship until spirituality entered the picture. He made it well known that he believed in an all powerful creator, although he was unsure whether or not the ideas believed in the Judeo-Christian world were enough for him. The conversation took a turn when he mentioned that the idea of a fallen angel trying to fight against God was a preposterous notion. "It would be like a house cat trying to fight a good sized dog," he said. The Satanist forced a smile but that was the last time she came over. Two weeks later, the man's Labrador disappeared from the front porch area of his house. However, there was a black house cat tied to the dog's leash. He knew exactly what had happened but he never brought it up in the sporadic subsequent conversations that took place later on. She would always smile and he would smile back. Deep in his heart, he knew what she was and she disgusted him.
His relationship with the Sophisticate was an interesting one to say the least. They had known each other in the early years of the Sophisticate's horse racket. Offering his connections and vast leads, he helped his friend’s business flourish. They were stellar partners. After that run ended and the Sophisticate was hanging by a thin thread, the man offered him a job. He kindly thanked him but refused the offer because of his pride. So instead, the man gave him some money, which did not need to be paid back, in order to reestablish himself. Later, the man heard that the Sophisticate was back on his feet with a new late night business. This brought a smile to his face. He was happy to have helped someone in need and eager to see what his money had been put toward. As soon as the man walked into the Sophisticate's new office, he left -- disgusted.
For a number of years, he had a relationship with the Saint because she often was his teller at the bank. He liked her as a person. She was cordial, personable, and had a good spirit. Many a time she would talk to him about Christianity but never in a pushy way -- he liked that. He never swayed toward her beliefs but he respected them because he so highly respected her. When he found out that she had married the Sophisticate, he also found out that her sister-in-law was the Satanist. He could not believe that someone so sweet could be so naive. How could she be involved with such a disgusting pair? From then on, he ceased going to her at the bank. Her ignorance disgusted him.
This is a man who loves his wife. She is the only one who truly knows him. Everyone else thinks him to be a businessman, or a retired military man, or just an intellectual. But in actuality, he is a devoted scientist who refuses to expose his talent and livelihood to anyone -- except for his wife. After all, she is his creation. After his encounters with all of these people at the table, he lost his faith in humanity and decided that only an artificial being could satisfy him. Really though, he created her as a tool -- a tool to destroy the ones who had so jaded his perception. For years, he has been planning this event. This is the third and final Christmas party that all of these individuals will attend together. They're comfortable and unsuspecting. The time is perfect. After this picture is taken, the rest of the guests leave, and it is just their table left drinking some late night beverages mixed with a powerful sedative, he will murder every last one of them.
He knows that his wife plans to murder him after the others are gone. She doesn't know he knows but that's because she is only a machine. That is why he will force her to kill herself in front of the others so that those scarred by suicides will rekindle their horror. Then he will systematically kill the rest, starting with the Satanist -- the piece of filth that stole his dog. That way, everyone will die having been a witness to, or at least affected by, a suicide and a murder. Next will be the Socialite. She will be spinning after seeing another woman murdered. It will conjure up memories of his parents. Her death will hurt the Soldier. Then the man will tell him that he knows his secrets and witnessed his ritual killings. Then he will slice the Soldier’s throat. The last two left will be the Sophisticate and the Saint. The man will kill the Sophisticate and speak to the Saint as she cries. He will explain that these were all terrible people and that she should have known better. And right when she thinks that God will save her because she is the only good one there, the man will tell her that she will not want to go on living with these kinds of images burned into her memory. Then he will kill her.
At that point, he will use his knowledge of science to dispose of the bodies and completely clean the scene of any evidence. After that, he will take a small dose of cyanide and take a nap in a large incinerator because he will not be able to live with himself. He will know that what he did was just but his mind will never be the same and no achievement will ever live up to the complexity and precision of this particular plan. In the end, it will simply seem as if none of them ever existed. The earth will be rid of seven corrupt individuals and the abuse of life will be replaced by necessary death. And no one will remember the Mammoth Christmas Party of 1956.
11.28.2007
Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 3)
THE SATANIST
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The blonde on the left with the big ruby lips, she looks at the camera but isn't focused on it. Her mind is somewhere much different. She is debating in her head the best sacrifice to make during the upcoming full moon.
She grew up with only a mother and her brother. He's the man to the right of her. Their mother worked three jobs: a waitress, a homemaker, and a whore. Her house was her office for two of the three jobs. It was not uncommon for her daughter and her son to see her with strange men, who would leave late in the evening or early in the morning. The daughter didn't mind.
When this girl was all but thirteen, she made some special friends. They were older and more knowledgeable of the world. They showed her that there was a spirit realm that could give her life meaning. She had nothing else of substance in her life so she engaged. It all started with a harmless sacrifice.
One night the group had gathered somewhere in the hills, dressed in black. After a few traditional prayers, one of the members pulled a live cat from a bag. A short rope was attached to its collar and hooked to a stake. Then the group of five all drew knives. That was the first of many sacrifices that this particular girl would make.
As she grew older, some would call her a serial killer if they knew what she did on the weekends. Others would say she was just cutting down the excess population. And still, others would say that she was just a confused Satanist with a troubled past. She wasn't troubled though. Her head was clear and she knew exactly what she was doing. She sacrificed her mother on her twenty-first birthday. Her brother and her made love next to the corpse. She loved him as only a brother but he had always wanted her. She wanted to share the moment with someone close to her. That was the only time their souls would ever truly connect and neither of them would ever regret it.
She is to herself. If looks could kill, she'd love to watch people die. She hasn't sacrificed in over a month and now her thirst to please her god is poking her heart. She wants to burn her brother's wife at the stake. That's the woman to her right. It's partly because she loves her brother, and since the night that they shared their mother's death there has been a deep connection, but mostly, it's because the woman is a God fearing, too good to be true charming person. Her brother has changed since he married her. She wants things back to the way they were.
She knows the pure couple because she was a friend of the soldier's lover. She absolutely adores his wife but she doesn't know why. The other couple is mediocre in her eyes. She could live with them or she could sacrifice them. Either way.
The full moon is coming. She knows this as she looks into the camera. And she knows that when the full moon is gone, her brother will once again be independent. It is decided.
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The blonde on the left with the big ruby lips, she looks at the camera but isn't focused on it. Her mind is somewhere much different. She is debating in her head the best sacrifice to make during the upcoming full moon.
She grew up with only a mother and her brother. He's the man to the right of her. Their mother worked three jobs: a waitress, a homemaker, and a whore. Her house was her office for two of the three jobs. It was not uncommon for her daughter and her son to see her with strange men, who would leave late in the evening or early in the morning. The daughter didn't mind.
When this girl was all but thirteen, she made some special friends. They were older and more knowledgeable of the world. They showed her that there was a spirit realm that could give her life meaning. She had nothing else of substance in her life so she engaged. It all started with a harmless sacrifice.
One night the group had gathered somewhere in the hills, dressed in black. After a few traditional prayers, one of the members pulled a live cat from a bag. A short rope was attached to its collar and hooked to a stake. Then the group of five all drew knives. That was the first of many sacrifices that this particular girl would make.
As she grew older, some would call her a serial killer if they knew what she did on the weekends. Others would say she was just cutting down the excess population. And still, others would say that she was just a confused Satanist with a troubled past. She wasn't troubled though. Her head was clear and she knew exactly what she was doing. She sacrificed her mother on her twenty-first birthday. Her brother and her made love next to the corpse. She loved him as only a brother but he had always wanted her. She wanted to share the moment with someone close to her. That was the only time their souls would ever truly connect and neither of them would ever regret it.
She is to herself. If looks could kill, she'd love to watch people die. She hasn't sacrificed in over a month and now her thirst to please her god is poking her heart. She wants to burn her brother's wife at the stake. That's the woman to her right. It's partly because she loves her brother, and since the night that they shared their mother's death there has been a deep connection, but mostly, it's because the woman is a God fearing, too good to be true charming person. Her brother has changed since he married her. She wants things back to the way they were.
She knows the pure couple because she was a friend of the soldier's lover. She absolutely adores his wife but she doesn't know why. The other couple is mediocre in her eyes. She could live with them or she could sacrifice them. Either way.
The full moon is coming. She knows this as she looks into the camera. And she knows that when the full moon is gone, her brother will once again be independent. It is decided.
11.26.2007
Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 2)
THE SOCIALITE
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the left is the purest. They are truly in love and produce envy from onlookers because of their natural displays of affection. She looks right into the heart of the camera lens. She always does. Sure, she dresses nice to impress her peers and random passersby, but really, she does it for the photographs.
Her eyes truly are the window to her soul -- so transparent and open. It's those eyes that tell her story: where she's been, whom she's been with, what she's seen. Her eyes weave the tale of how she was born into wealth with everything in abundance. However, all these things she later grew to appreciate, and even love, were mere ways to coat her early years with as much gold and fine jewelry as possible in order to blind the poor girl.
From the minute she came into this world, her father had a strong affection for her. He loved her -- in every sense of the word. Although he was a very busy businessman with a small empire in the palm of his hand, he took the time to be the one there for his daughter. He would insist on changing her, bathing her, and putting her to sleep. But he did not do these things out of love as much as he did them out of desire. Before the girl had even developed a substantial memory, she had already endured things she would want to forget. Her father's hands were tools of disgust that would forever frame her as someone always drawing attention. He loved her red hair and those big, beautiful, deep green eyes. They saw everything he ever did. Sometimes they were glazed over with tears but they could always make out the blurred vision of subtle force joined with a smile.
As she grew older, her father showered her with gifts -- any and everything she wanted. At first, it was simply because he was in love with her. But as he continued this behavior, he realized that it seemed to make his daughter forget whatever unbearable things he would do to her in the night or when his wife was away. The girl never brought up the sexual encounters. She acted as if they had never happened. All she cared about was the attention. She got it at home. She got it at school. She even got it on the street. If she wasn't getting attention, something was wrong and she would run home to Daddy, who was always there to give her what she needed. The girl's mother was unaware of the two's relationship in the beginning. But one night, her building suspicions came to fruition.
It was Christmas Eve and the teenage girl was opening the presents designated for that night. Her father was drinking. He had just lost a dynamic piece of his empire. His wife was in the kitchen baking desserts and preparing for the following day. Wandering over to his daughter, he sat behind her on the ground. She was full of smiles and she revealed expensive gifts. After opening a diamond-encrusted necklace, she hugged her father. He squeezed her tight and kissed her ear. She went to pull away but the scotch-induced strength was overpowering. He kissed, and licked, and groped, and smiled. She stared at the necklace to take her mind off of it. Then the girl's mother entered and screamed. She was holding a knife. She dropped it and stood against the wall as her husband turned to see her. She questioned his actions through tears and he slowly approached. His secret was out. He picked up the knife and stood in front of his wife. The girl sat on the floor, watching it all. Her father told his wife that she would never be able to let his secret out. She promised to keep her mouth closed but this was not enough. He slit her throat and she fell to the ground. He turned around slowly and saw his daughter silently crying. Dropping the knife, he walked upstairs. A few minutes later, a gun blast echoed through the house.
Years went by and the girl came to be nothing less than a local sensation. She used her mass inherited wealth and status to demand attention from everyone around her. When she met her husband, it changed everything. He didn't pay as much attention to her as everyone else. She decided this is what she needed -- someone completely opposite her father. That way, there was a lesser chance of her past and volatile instability coming out. After all, she didn't want someone close to her to die because of overaffection. Everyone who knew her secrets was dead and she yearned for the companionship of someone normal. The veteran she married after knowing him two months was perfect. He had a simple life and an uncomplicated past. She had found someone who wouldn't read the fine print written on her cavernous eyes.
This is why she looks straight into the camera lens. This is why her eyes seem vast and endless. She still wears the pearls, still dresses up, still makes people turn their heads. She loves her husband. His normalcy is the perfect compliment to her disturbing past. She can't risk anyone learning of her secrets. If someone did, she would have to do exactly what she had seen her father do all those years ago.
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the left is the purest. They are truly in love and produce envy from onlookers because of their natural displays of affection. She looks right into the heart of the camera lens. She always does. Sure, she dresses nice to impress her peers and random passersby, but really, she does it for the photographs.
Her eyes truly are the window to her soul -- so transparent and open. It's those eyes that tell her story: where she's been, whom she's been with, what she's seen. Her eyes weave the tale of how she was born into wealth with everything in abundance. However, all these things she later grew to appreciate, and even love, were mere ways to coat her early years with as much gold and fine jewelry as possible in order to blind the poor girl.
From the minute she came into this world, her father had a strong affection for her. He loved her -- in every sense of the word. Although he was a very busy businessman with a small empire in the palm of his hand, he took the time to be the one there for his daughter. He would insist on changing her, bathing her, and putting her to sleep. But he did not do these things out of love as much as he did them out of desire. Before the girl had even developed a substantial memory, she had already endured things she would want to forget. Her father's hands were tools of disgust that would forever frame her as someone always drawing attention. He loved her red hair and those big, beautiful, deep green eyes. They saw everything he ever did. Sometimes they were glazed over with tears but they could always make out the blurred vision of subtle force joined with a smile.
As she grew older, her father showered her with gifts -- any and everything she wanted. At first, it was simply because he was in love with her. But as he continued this behavior, he realized that it seemed to make his daughter forget whatever unbearable things he would do to her in the night or when his wife was away. The girl never brought up the sexual encounters. She acted as if they had never happened. All she cared about was the attention. She got it at home. She got it at school. She even got it on the street. If she wasn't getting attention, something was wrong and she would run home to Daddy, who was always there to give her what she needed. The girl's mother was unaware of the two's relationship in the beginning. But one night, her building suspicions came to fruition.
It was Christmas Eve and the teenage girl was opening the presents designated for that night. Her father was drinking. He had just lost a dynamic piece of his empire. His wife was in the kitchen baking desserts and preparing for the following day. Wandering over to his daughter, he sat behind her on the ground. She was full of smiles and she revealed expensive gifts. After opening a diamond-encrusted necklace, she hugged her father. He squeezed her tight and kissed her ear. She went to pull away but the scotch-induced strength was overpowering. He kissed, and licked, and groped, and smiled. She stared at the necklace to take her mind off of it. Then the girl's mother entered and screamed. She was holding a knife. She dropped it and stood against the wall as her husband turned to see her. She questioned his actions through tears and he slowly approached. His secret was out. He picked up the knife and stood in front of his wife. The girl sat on the floor, watching it all. Her father told his wife that she would never be able to let his secret out. She promised to keep her mouth closed but this was not enough. He slit her throat and she fell to the ground. He turned around slowly and saw his daughter silently crying. Dropping the knife, he walked upstairs. A few minutes later, a gun blast echoed through the house.
Years went by and the girl came to be nothing less than a local sensation. She used her mass inherited wealth and status to demand attention from everyone around her. When she met her husband, it changed everything. He didn't pay as much attention to her as everyone else. She decided this is what she needed -- someone completely opposite her father. That way, there was a lesser chance of her past and volatile instability coming out. After all, she didn't want someone close to her to die because of overaffection. Everyone who knew her secrets was dead and she yearned for the companionship of someone normal. The veteran she married after knowing him two months was perfect. He had a simple life and an uncomplicated past. She had found someone who wouldn't read the fine print written on her cavernous eyes.
This is why she looks straight into the camera lens. This is why her eyes seem vast and endless. She still wears the pearls, still dresses up, still makes people turn their heads. She loves her husband. His normalcy is the perfect compliment to her disturbing past. She can't risk anyone learning of her secrets. If someone did, she would have to do exactly what she had seen her father do all those years ago.
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