The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore

by Garrett, Wade H.

He started scooting backwards on the ground. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me anymore. I won’t say anything if you let me go. I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

  “Oh yeah?” You just wanted to force me off the road at gunpoint so you could give me a hug?”

  When he started to say he was sorry again, I put my foot on his chest and reached down and grabbed the arm, then with all my strength ripped it off. He was rolling around on the ground screaming as I tossed it into the air towards the water. While they were both rolling around on the ground screaming, I started burning their stubs with my pocket torch—I didn’t want them to bleed to death so soon. They cursed, threatened and screamed the entire time during the painful medical attention I was giving them. They weren’t able to fight back because their other limbs had sustained serious injuries. When I was done cooking the ends of their stubs, I cauterized their other wounds to slow down the bleeding in those areas as well. While the two punks were rolling around on the ground crying and bitching over the inhumane treatment they had received, I sat calmly on a log and smoked a cigarette as I tried to think of what I was going to do with them. During their tranquilizer and clubbing nap, I had run a background check on them on my phone. Both of them were wanted for a couple of armed robberies, and their criminal history was fairly long. I didn’t want to take them back to the chamber because it was getting full, but I also didn’t want the police to find these nimrods either.

  Eventually, the Hispanic dude mustered up enough strength to stand up, then he started hobbling back towards his car. With every painful step, he cursed me and made comments like how he was going to kill me. I didn’t say or do anything because I was curious what he was up to. When he started climbing back into the car’s rear window, I figured he was going in after his cell phone or the gun. The front portion of the car was under water and he had to blindly search under it for whatever he was looking for. Suddenly, he popped out of the water and started screaming how his eyes were burning. The fool didn’t realize the gas tank had been damaged during the wreck and there was gas leaking all over the ground behind the car; it was also floating on top of the water, which means it was inside of the car as well. I continued to watch as he relentlessly dove under the gas-contaminated water to find whatever he was looking for. I was also keeping an eye on the bald dude; he was in bad shape and pretty much just crawling around on the ground in circles. On the fourth or fifth diving attempt the Hispanic dude finally emerged with a large hunting knife. He shouted out something in Spanish as he blindly waved the knife around, then started yelling in English how he was going to cut my guts out. He was so excited as he blindly crawled over the front seats and into the rear seat as he was heading for the window of redemption. Just for fun, I ran over to the bald dude and pulled my blue toboggan over his head, then quickly dragged him over to the back of the car before the Hispanic dude had a chance to get out. As soon as the knife brandishing madman began to crawl through the rear window, I threw the bald dude head first on top of him as I shouted, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya, grease ball.”

  The blind vato sliced and diced like an absolute crazed savage. Blood, guts, muscle, skin, hair and ass were being slung everywhere, and after several minutes of intense barbaric savagery, the Hispanic dude collapsed from exhaustion in the rear seat of the car. I stood silently and watched as he breathed heavily while pieces of human flesh, blood and feces floated around him. The vato couldn’t see jack shit and he was busted up pretty bad, but he still held his head high as he savored the flavor of vindication.

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed an alligator had come up to the water line right next to the rear of the car. He most likely heard the commotion and probably could smell all the blood. I knew it was time to go. “Shit, homie, what have ya done?”

  The dude was startled when I had spoken. He stared in my direction while rubbing his eyes to regain his vision. “Are you a cop”?

  “No fool. I’m the one who shot your ass to pieces, cut your arm off, sewed another one back on, then ripped it off and beat you with it.”

  When he realized who he had chopped to pieces, he became irate, and as he crawled through the rear window, he was screaming how he was going to fucking kill me.

  He was pissed as he crawled across the rear trunk, and when he fell to the ground, I could hear the broken bones in his arm and legs crack and pop, but his adrenaline rush allowed him to overcome his pain as he stood up and began hobbling over to my direction. He was so focused on cutting me with his knife he didn’t notice I had my SBR pointed at him, but he did notice when I sprayed a round of bullets that turned his legs into Swiss cheese. When he fell back he landed at the edge of the swamp. I was ready to cut him in half with my rifle until I saw the alligator was heading in his direction.

  The vato knew it was over as he looked up at me. “Do it, motherfucker! I don’t give a shit! That’s how I roll, bitch.”

  I pointed in the direction of the alligator, and when he looked over and noticed it, he started crawling in the opposite direction as he screamed out for help; it didn’t arrive. The alligator grabbed his tattooed burrito by the bloody legs and took off to the deeper part of the swamp, where they both quickly disappeared.

  Before I left, I dragged the white dude, or what was left of him, over to the water’s edge, then pushed him off like a boat so the alligators could have another snack. I also erased all my footprints and made sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind that would be incriminating. Just before I walked off I noticed the large devil head that had been hanging from their rear-view mirror was floating on the murky swamp water. I thought to myself as I walked out of the thickets what it must be like now that they were in Hell. But that’s what they get for choosing to take the wide road that leads to destruction. Before I drove off, I changed my clothes and wiped off as much of the blood that I could with wet wipes just in case I was pulled over for something. The remaining part of my trip back home went smoothly, and when I arrived, I immediately got rid of the car and all my bloodstained clothes.”

  Stuffing Animals Made Easy- Volume One

  Seth stood up and stretched for a moment, then walked over to Dicky and stood next to the bars. “It might seem that I’m a magnet for assholes and lowlifes, but actually a lot of people have to go through life and deal with the chaos that these kinds of pricks dish out. Unlike most, I am fortunate that I can return the chaos back a thousand-fold.”

  Dicky looked as if he wanted to say something.

  Seth took a deep breath. “Let’s hear it.”

  He had a somewhat of a relieved look on his face. “C.S.I. agents most likely found hair traces, so they will link you to those murders.”

  “They probably did find some, but not mine. And remember, things aren’t always what they seem.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I can tell that you have something else to say, so go ahead and tell me how I fucked up.”

  “Your toboggan had hairs.”

  “Like I said, not mine.” Seth made a gesture with his hands that stated what the fuck. “Do you think all these assholes behind me magically appeared in this chamber? I couldn’t have gotten away with all this if I was incompetent.”

  Dicky put his head down.

  Seth walked back over and sat on the stuffed man. “Any other questions?”

  He remained silent.

  “All righty then, so back to it. A few months later, I did a follow up on Mr. Terryhole, and when I searched his vehicle’s identification number again it was now registered to a Mr. Redden in Durango, Colorado. I searched online and found the guy’s phone number, but before I gave him a call I searched the vehicle online and found several recalls for that make and model. When I called Mr. Redden, I told him I worked for a third party company that represented General Motors and I was following up on their recall notices. He said he wasn’t sure if the recall issues had been taken care of because he had recently just purchased it. I played dumb and advised him
if I had the previous owner’s name and the city he lived in that I could look up his information on the computer to confirm whether or not he had the necessary recall issues taken care of when he owned the vehicle. Mr. Redden told me he had bought the car from a Mr. Warren and he believed he lived in Durango as well. I went back and did a property search on Richard’s relatives. I discovered his uncle, Mr. Warren, had a cabin in Durango. His uncle’s permanent residence was in Oklahoma, so the cabin was most likely a vacation house. Dickhead wasn’t very smart making whatever deal he had made with his uncle. Only thing I could figure was he needed money and sold the Suburban for some quick cash, then his uncle sold it at a profit. It wasn’t a smart transaction—it would have been in his best interest if he had dumped the vehicle into a lake, especially since there were several people looking for him, but what I’ve come to learn about him is he’s a very arrogant person who thinks he’s untouchable.

  There was nothing more I could do from home, so I left Texas to take a chance that Dickhead was now living, or hiding out, in Colorado. The trip wasn’t bad, but the cabin was somewhat difficult to find because the area was heavily wooded with a lot of unnamed roads, and the ones that were named had the signs missing from their poles. After several hours of driving around the mountains I eventually found a log cabin that fit the profile and location; it sat way back in the woods near a small lake. When I drove by I didn’t see any vehicles outside, but I knew someone was there because smoke was coming from the chimney. At that point I really didn’t know how to approach the situation because I didn’t have current photos of Richard and it would be a shame for some poor soul to reap the consequences of his actions. There was snow on the ground and it would be pointless to try to hide my car in the woods because I would leave tire tracks, so I parked on the side of the road and walked up to the cabin. I was a little nervous as I knocked on the door because I wasn’t sure how things were going to go down. Within seconds, someone moved the curtains in a window next to the door so they could see me, so I waved at them and smiled. Shortly after the curtains fell back in place a man opened the door with a suspicious look. “What do you want?”

  “Can I please use your phone? I was driving a little too fast and slid off the road. My car stalled on me and now it won’t start.”

  He laughed. “Sounds like you’re shit out of luck, dude.”

  I hit the bastard with a tire tool, and as he laid on the floor, I thought to myself, this guy at least needs to have his teeth knocked out for being such an asshole. While the guy was lying in a pool of his own blood I quickly checked to make sure no one else was there. The cabin was clear, so I dragged the man inside, then checked his wallet and verified it was Dickhead. I quickly tied him up on the floor with a phone cord, phone still attached, then moved my car into the garage before someone had a chance to see it. I was real uneasy about someone walking in on me, so I hid some wireless motion sensors on the exterior of the cabin; they would activate a receiver that was with me if anything got in their range. The cabin was most likely used for vacation and hunting because the walls were covered with stuffed animal heads, trophies and hunting gear. While I was checking out one of the bedrooms I noticed Richard’s bags and suitcases weren’t unpacked and it seemed he was temporarily staying there before his next destination, which might have been out of the country.

  An hour later, Dickhead came around and started fighting to get loose as he frantically looked around. His eyes opened wide when he finally noticed me relaxing on the couch smoking a cigar and drinking coffee. He became instantly pissed as I reclined back, chilling in one of his robes. He glared at me with anger. “What the fuck are you doing man? Untie me now!”

  “Is your name Richard, and is your father Judge Terryhole?”

  He rolled over on his back, then sat up. “Don’t even try it, you worthless fuck. My dad will bury your sorry ass if you fuck with us.”

  “Try what?”

  “I’m not stupid, so just cut the bullshit.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, pal.”

  “A fucking payday!”

  “I’m not here for a fucking candy bar.”

  “A ransom, asshole! A fucking ransom.”

  I smiled. “Well hell. I didn’t think of that. Thanks, pal.”

  The guy had a real air about him, so I got off the couch and walked over to him and poured my hot coffee on his head, and as he squirmed around and hollered on the floor, I stomped my foot into his crotch as hard as I could several times. He started yelling out very loud and I couldn’t take a chance of someone hearing him, so I knelt and squeezed his mouth. “You need to lower your voice.”

  He gave me a death stare, and when I removed my hand he yelled out, “Screw you, motherfucker!”

  I got up and grabbed a needle and some heavy gauge thread out of my duffel bag. I threaded the needle with about two feet of thread, then tied a huge knot in the end. He was sitting up and yelling at me as he watched. When I approached him, he started kicking at me, so I scrambled to his back side, knelt and put him in a one-armed choke hold with my left arm. He tried to throw me off, so I fell to my left side, which forced him to go with me. I threw my right leg around his legs and locked him down while I continued to hold the choke. All he could do was watch in fear as I brought the needle towards his face. He tried to move his head away, but I jammed the side of my face against the side of his head, causing the choke hold to be tighter. He started screaming as I shoved the needle through the bottom of his bottom lip on the right side of his mouth. He was flinching and screaming as I pushed the needle straight up and through his top lip. His screaming changed to loud moaning when I jerked back on the thread and forced the side of his mouth closed. To his horror, I drove the needle back through both of his lips on the same side as the first stitch and I didn’t stop until I had about seven or eight tight loops around the side of his mouth. I ran the needle through the exposed portion of the thread, then tied a granny knot to hold them in place. I could have simply sat on his chest and sewn his mouth, but I wanted to get up close and personal so I could feel his pain. When I pushed him away and stood up, he rolled over on his back and stared up at me with horror on his face. I had only stitched one side of his mouth to prevent him yelling out, but he would still be able to answer questions as I needed him to. He was too upset to have a civil conversation; he was bitching and whining as he rolled around on the floor, so I went and sat on the porch for a while to give him time to calm down.

  An hour later I walked back in. “Is your name Richard Terryhole?”

  He wouldn’t look at me as he laid on the floor in the fetal position. His lips were beginning to swell and it was too painful for him to shout, but he was able to mumble through the other side of his mouth. “Go fuck yourself! I ain’t telling you shit.”

  “I see that I am dealing with a bitch.”

  He rolled over on his back. “You’re a fucking dead man!”

  I needed some motivation, so I took off towards the kitchen.

  He yelled out the best he could. “You’re so fucking dead and don’t even know it. My family is going to fucking rip your limbs off and beat you to death with them.”

  Several minutes later when I came back into the room with a jar of jalapenos I found him standing up, so I walked up to him and kicked both of his legs out from under him, causing him to fall on his back and slam his head against the floor. While he laid on his back in a daze, I squatted down and jammed my knee into his chest. He squirmed and moaned a little as I pulled his eyelids inside out and stretched them upwards, then stapled them to his forehead with a small stapler I had found in the study. He didn’t scream or say a word because he was still dazed, and he wasn’t sure what I had done to him as he laid motionless while rolling his eyes around. Before he had a chance to speak I grabbed a handful of his hair and held the jar of jalapeno juice over his face. “I am not asking you again.”

  He didn’t move an inch. “Yes, my name is Richard Terryhole.”


  He continued to lie motionless as I held the jar above his face, and as I looked around the room I asked, “Who killed all these animals?”

  He didn’t reply, so I slightly shook the jar.

  “Me and my pops.”

  I poured the jalapeno juice onto his face, then walked over to a picture sitting on a mantel. He was hollering muffled sounds through the side of his mouth and flopping around on the floor like a fish as I picked up a picture of his dad and sat back on the couch. I couldn’t hear myself think as he was shouting out, “It’s burning! It’s burning! It’s burning! Wash out my eyes! Oh shit, I’m going blind! Please wash it out of my eyes!”

  I was trying to relax and had enough of the noise. “Stop making racket before I really give some something to bitch about! If you can’t take the pain of your eyes burning than I will cut them out.”

  He rolled to his knees, then stumbled to his feet and took off running, but he ran straight into a wall, and as soon as he fell back onto the floor he started yelling again about going blind. He was apparently going to be a pain in the ass, so I got off the couch and walked over to him. His entire face was covered with snot, and he had pulled the staples from his forehead. “Where’re ya running off to, pal?”

  He held his eyes tightly closed. “I need water for my eyes.”

  “Okay, buddy, I’ll hook you up.”

  I made a quick trip to the kitchen. When I came back I squatted next to him. “Here, let me soak up the juice in your eyes.”

  He continued to hold them tightly closed.

  I patted him on his head. “Hey, dickhead, let me help. I shouldn’t have poured jalapeno juice in your eyes. Here, let me soak it up.”

  When he opened his bloodshot and swollen eyes I dumped a jar of salt into them. He instantly started screaming again.

  I slapped him across the face. “Hush!”

  “You’re a sorry mother fucker! Wait till I…”

  I slapped him again. “I said shut the fuck up! Keep on and I’ll sew your mouth completely shut.”