Seth was getting a little tired, so he slouched in his chair and lit a cigarette. He sat quietly smoking as he listened to Dicky cry.
Forever Silent
Several hours later, Seth sat up in the chair, and after he rubbed his face and stretched, he stood up and walked over to the cell. “Hey fucker, naptime is over.”
Dicky sat up on the floor from where he had been sleeping, and as he stared at Sandy’s rotted corpse and all the gruesome things around him he started crying again.
Seth noticed he was getting emotional. “Stop being a bitch.”
“Why are you so fucking cruel? All I see and hear is suffering. Don’t you have any compassion?”
“I’m all out of compassion for scumbags because they don’t have any for others, but if you have a problem with what you’re seeing and hearing, then maybe you need to see the alternative.”
Seth walked across the chamber to the opposite side. He started moving stuff around along a cluttered wall, and as he relocated the clutter, a large rectangular box that was leaning upright against the back wall began to appear. It was covered with dust and seemed it had been there for long time. The box was made of wood and was about seven-feet long, three-feet wide and two-feet deep. Seth wiped some dust off the front of the box and revealed the words ‘Forever Silent’. The writing appeared to be written in human blood. Seth unlatched a couple of rusted latches, and when he opened the lid, a foul odor filled the area. Dicky stared with uncertainty. He could see there was a naked man lying in the box. The man’s arms, legs, torso, and head were bound tightly to the back of the box with leather straps. His eyes were missing, revealing his dark empty eye sockets. The man’s mouth was hanging open and his tongue was missing. His body was extremely thin and he looked like a bag of bones. Sores covered his entire body and some of them were oozing with pus. His hair was gray and very long, covering most of his face and chest. He was very pale due to lack of light, more so than an albino. Because his skin was so pale, his bluish colored veins could be seen throughout his body, which caused him to look kind of like an alien out of a science fiction movie. The only color the man had on his body was his bruised skin around the leather straps, the grotesque sores that oozed with pus, and the dark scar tissue around his eye sockets. The man’s body looked as if it was decaying. The bottom of the box and his lower legs and feet were covered with dead skin that had flaked from his body. There was an intravenous bag hanging on the wall beside the box. A plastic tube ran from the bag through a small hole in the side of the box and then to his neck. The man had a large tube coming from his abdomen and it ran through another hole in the side of the box, then over to a trench in the floor. The end of it was oozing feces. He had been catheterized, and the small tube ran through a hole at the bottom of the box and over to the same trench. Electrical wires were running across his body to numerous electrode pads that were stuck on his chest. The wires ran out the side of the box and over to a control box that was mounted on the wall.
Seth thumped the man on the forehead. “You still alive?”
The man started moving his mouth slowly as if he wanted to speak, but all he could do was let out a very faint moan.
Seth looked at Dicky. “This is David. I read about him in the newspaper after he tragically altered a family’s life. On a Friday evening, he and his friend were cruising around while drinking. It was around seven o’clock when David misjudged a corner and ran his truck through a picket fence and into a yard. Per a neighbor’s testimony, David spun out backwards, and when he reached the pavement, he burned out down the street. Later that evening, the police found David at a dance hall and arrested him. His buddy had turned him in—they had run over a young child when the truck ran through the fence. The four-year-old had been sitting in her front yard playing with her Barbie doll. David tried to lie to the police by saying he didn’t know anything about it. His buddy testified against him and said they both knew what had happened, but David had the attitude that no one could prove it. His buddy had led the police to a car wash where they found rags in the trash. David had used them with some solvent to remove the white paint from the picket fence from his front bumper. When this evidence was shown, David tried to flip the situation on his buddy and said he had loaned him his truck and he was probably the one that did it. That backfired on him when several people who had been in the area testified they had seen David driving the truck. At the time, he was very recognizable. He always wore his ball cap backwards, had hair past his shoulders and sported a long goatee. His buddy was clean shaven and had short hair. The article stated he never admitted to anything during his trial and he showed absolutely no remorse. He was found guilty of manslaughter and the judge gave him eight years in prison. The article also mentioned the father of the child became hysterical when David screamed at the judge saying eight years in prison would ruin his life.
After I did a little research on him, I found out this was not his first time in an alcohol-related incident. Back when he was in high school he had run a car off the road while driving drunk, seriously injuring the guy in the other vehicle. He only received a slap on the hand because he was just a minor. Since then he had been arrested and charged six times for driving while intoxicated. The first five times he only paid a fine and was released back onto the street, but the last time his driver’s license was suspended. It was still suspended when he ran over the girl. Four years later he had been released on early parole.”
Sideshow Freak—The Human Slug
Seth walked over to Dicky and grabbed the rusted bars. “I don’t think serving four years in prison is fair, do you?”
“The man served his time, according to the law.”
“What about the girl and her family? The sentence that he handed down to them is for life. Everyone forgets about the innocent victims and their families. Some of our society is so worried about the criminal’s rights, that any punishment beyond a cozy little cell and three meals a day is cruel and unusual punishment. What about the victim’s rights? Does the young girl get to continue her life after four years? Do the parents get their daughter back after four years? Does the older brother get his sister back after four years? Do the aunt and uncle get their niece back after four years? Do the grandparents get their granddaughter back after four years?”
“Hey, I get it, but…”
“Shut the fuck up! I’m talking.”
He shook his head.
“Our society seems to forget how many lives are affected beyond just the victim. I believe the girl is in a better place now, but she was still robbed of her childhood and life here. This world is full of wickedness, and every time that I look out the window I see a glimpse into hell.”
“I understand. But the guy still paid his debt to society.”
Seth shook his head. “You think so?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Do you think his punishment of four years in prison was enough of a deterrent to prevent him from doing it again, or others from doing the same thing?”
“Probably.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Seth sat next to the cell. “Are you familiar with the Haseir shooting?”
He shook his head to indicate yes. “He shot a bunch of soldiers at a military base.”
“Correct. He did it in the name of his religion. He was found guilty of that crime. His jury had two options of punishment; life in prison or the death penalty. This caused a stir around the Internet. Half of the people thought life was sufficient, the other half thought death was appropriate. What did you think?”
He sat forward as he was sitting on the floor. “The jury made the right decision of death based on the two options they had.”
“Maybe. Being caged like an animal for the remainder of your life would suck, but most of these lowlifes adapt and prison becomes their home. Life in prison or the death penalty is not enough of a deterrent to stop these kinds of assholes. Same goes for the school shooters as well.”
/>
Dicky looked confused. “How do you figure the death penalty is not a deterrent?”
“The actual procedure of being put to death would be terrifying as shit, but not painful. After you get your arm wiped down with alcohol so you don’t get an infection from the needle, you simply go night night.”
“So you’re not for the death penalty?”
Seth laughed. “I would be if I had my choice of the way these assholes were put down. But there is one good thing about our system—which most pro-capital punishment people don’t like but I do—the fact that these lowlifes have to sit on death row for years.”
He looked even more confused. “Wow. I figured you would want them to be dragged out into the street and killed as soon as the jury found them guilty.”
“Only if it was in a barbaric way.” Seth laughed. “What I like about our system, thanks to the far-left, is the real punishment, or terrifying part of being on death row, is the psychological part; the anticipation of death. These lowlifes have to sit in their cell for years, in some cases decades, knowing at any time their number is up.”
Dicky leaned his back against the wall. “The longer the duration the better. There are people on death row that are innocent and that gives them time to be freed.”
“There have been people released from prison, but not because they were found to be innocent, but because there was not enough evidence to prove their guilt in the first place.”
He made a hand gesture to indicate, what. “What’s the difference? You have a problem with that?”
Seth leaned forward. “Let’s put it this way. If a person is a productive member of society it would be difficult for them to be put in a position where they could be blamed for something in the first place.”
He looked confused. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It fucking means if I went to work every day, respected and took care of my family, socialized with decent people, didn’t participate in illegal shit like drugs, stealing and acting like a gangbanger fool, or a punk that ran the streets all hours of the night, it would be hard to convict me of a crime that I didn’t commit. Most of these lowlifes that are released due to being supposedly innocent lived a life style that simply made it easy to implicate them in the first place. They might or might not have done that particular crime, but most likely they already had a long criminal record, and as far as I am concerned they were simply paying for shit they had been getting away with.”
“Well I think…”
Seth interrupted. “We got way off track. I wanted to know if you thought Haseir’s punishment of death will be a deterrent to other assholes who are thinking about shooting up a bunch of people.”
He thought for a moment. “No one wants to die.”
“Incorrect. Most of these shooters do. Haseir asked to be executed from day one. The punk ass school shooters killed themselves so they couldn’t be captured.”
Dicky was getting aggravated. “Then what the hell would you like to have seen done to him?”
“Definitely not make him a martyr as he wanted.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be some drawn out and gruesome story where you tortured him forever like the rest of your victims.”
Seth started laughing. He laughed so hard that he almost pissed on himself. When he calmed down he smiled at him. “I’m glad you started paying attention to my stories. And it’s obvious they are not bullshit because I have a whole room filled with show and tell items. You would actually be surprised what I would do to Haseir if society allowed it. First thing I would do is amputate all his limbs.”
He shook his head.
Seth stood up and grabbed the bars. “Hey, pal. You asked.”
He took a deep breath and looked down.
“I would cut the fucker’s nose off, amputate his penis and attach it to the stub on his face. I would remove his ball sack and attach it to the bottom of his chin, or pull it over the top of his head. I would also remove his eyelids and pin his eyeballs so he was forced to look straight. I would fabricate a glass box a little larger than his limbless body, and the nude slug would be strapped on his back in the bottom of it. There would be a hole cut in the top of the box right above his face. Leading up to this was just foreplay. The real punishment would come next. For the rest of his life he would be taken around the country, displayed like a sideshow freak. During this slug show, willing individuals could pee or defecate on his face, or they could simply point and laugh, or curse at him. Being a human slug that is humiliated every day until dying of old age is worse than death or any other type of punishment that could be bestowed on this piece of shit. But of course, the criminal rights activists would definitely scream cruel and unusual punishment, so I’m just dreaming.”
Dicky looked up at Seth and made a gesture with his hands to indicate, that’s it.
“That would be his punishment.”
“That’s fucked up, but not as bad as what you did in here to these people.”
“They’re not people. They are the scum of the earth that chose to harm innocent people. And you might think Haseir’s punishment might not seem as bad compared to the shit that goes on in here, but you must remember he killed those soldiers in the name of his religion, the same religion where being dismembered and humiliated as I described would be an abomination. Giving him death would make him a martyr; my punishment would be an abomination to him and his religion, especially since the limbless fucker would have a dick hanging off his face.”
He just looked at Seth.
“Now tell me this. Would my punishment be a deterrent? A punishment designed to fit the person and their crime in the most barbaric and gruesome way that a twisted and sick fucker like me could conjure up. You think these lowlifes would commit these heinous shootings if they knew without a shadow of a doubt if they were caught alive they would have to endure such a punishment?”
He just looked at Seth.
Seth glared at him. “Fucking speak!”
He took a deep breath. “Of course, it probably would make someone think twice. But it’s not going to happen in this country.”
Seth looked around the chamber for a second, then back at Dicky.
He noticed Seth had looked around. “Not outside of your twisted world.”
Seth smiled. “I need to get back to David’s story. We’ve wasted enough time debating punishments for assholes that I can only dream about fucking up.”
Dicky sat quietly with his head down.
Seeing Blind Man
Seth walked over and sat down on top of an old wooden casket that was around twenty feet from Dicky’s cell. “It took me a couple of years after David was released from jail before I found him in Mississippi. He was living in a small town and working as a bouncer in a beer joint on the outskirts of the town. The joint was more of a biker and trucker bar where a bunch of rowdy thugs hung out. After a short time in the hot and smelly town, I learned he spent most of his waking hours working and hanging out at the bar, so I decided I would rent a room at a run-down motel next to the bar so I could observe him for a few days to see what kind of person he was. I wanted to try something different this time, so I disguised myself as a wandering blind man, dressing in a worn black trench coat, black jeans, old dingy white shirt, raggedy boots and a worn out black cowboy hat. I disguised my face using prosthetics, foundations, texturing, shadowing and highlighting to create wrinkles and sagging skin. Under the hat, I wore a thinned out gray wig and dark shades. I also wore contacts that changed the color of my eyes to a light bluish tint; they kind of looked like wolf eyes. I hid my car in an abandoned building a few miles down the road from the bar and hitchhiked from there. I told the guy that picked me up I had been getting a ride from a truck driver, but he threw me out to pick up a female hitchhiker. When we arrived at the motel, the guy helped me to the office, and from there I had the desk clerk take me to my room.
That evening I left the motel room and headed across a gravel road to the bar. The park
ing lot was filled with bikers and truck drivers. I waved my cane in front of me while taking slow steps as I was imitating a blind man. Through my shades, I could see some of the assholes in the parking lot were making fun of me. When I walked into the bar I asked a waitress to sit me in the back. She asked me a few questions like where I was from and where I was headed. I told her I lived here and there and I had lost my eyesight in Vietnam, and I had been pretty much a wanderer ever since. She said I looked like I was down on my luck. I told her I had seen better days, but if she’d bring be a beer I would be all right.
A few hours later, David finally came into the bar. He looked a lot different than the old photos I had of him. He was a lot beefier, and now he was bald on top and had a thick handlebar mustache. I casually observed him to see what kind of person he was over the next couple of hours. One thing I quickly noticed was he would joke around with his friends and be a smart ass to everyone else. Around midnight, David approached me and sat in the chair across the table. He leaned his chair back and threw his feet up on the table right in from of me as he sat with a chicken shit grin. “Hey old timer, I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Just passing through.”
He had a cocky look on his face. “How do you know if you’re coming or going, chief?”
I smiled. “I have a Braille compass.”
He crossed his feet. “Braille, huh? I bet I can stick that compass up your ass.”
About that time a scuffle broke out in the bar. He walked over to where the two guys were fighting. While he harassed the two men, I left and went back to the motel. For the rest of the evening I sat on a bench under a canopy, and as I chain-smoked, I kept an eye on the bar so I could see which vehicle he drove. Around two in the morning he finally came out and walked over to a motorcycle. Without hesitating he threw on his helmet and took off down the highway towards the east.
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 31