A TASTE OF SICKNESS: UNCUT AND UNCENSORED VIOLENCE AND GORE

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A TASTE OF SICKNESS: UNCUT AND UNCENSORED VIOLENCE AND GORE Page 4

by Nelson Samuels


  “Old people are bat shit crazy!” Jeff laughs at Nick’s new found revelation.

  “You said a mouth full there my friend!” Jeff says as a naked old woman runs quickly up to him, grabbing at his shirt collar. “What the hell old lady?” “You’ve got to help me son!” she says frantically.

  “What is going on with you people today?” Nick asks her.

  “They’re coming after me. You have to hide me! They’ll take my soul. You can’t let them take my soul,” she says. Nick laughs.

  “And what would they do with your soul?” he rolls his eyes at Jeff. The old woman lets go of Jeff’s shirt and stands straight up, stiff as a board. Her eyes roll back into her head. “They’ll eat it!” she says as her voice changes. She smiles and the creases of it keep going until her face splits open. The top half of her head falls backwards.

  “Holy shit!” Jeff and Nick say at the same time. The old ladies body splits down the middle and opens as if it were a double doorway into a black abyss. Jeff turns to run.

  “Fuck this man!” he says, but Nick continues to watch as if hypnotized by the bizarreness of what he was witnessing.

  A resident of the home, an older man, begins to walk toward Nick from the opposite end of the hallway as the old woman continues to stand in a bloody pool before him. As he reaches the scene, the old man looks Nick in the eyes, places his index finger to his mouth, and says. “Shh!” Nick only nods in agreement. Taking the old woman by her hair, the man snatches her to the floor and begins dragging her down the hall, leaving a bloody trial in their path. The two of them disappear into a room in the distance. Which one exactly, Nick was in too much shock to be sure of.

  A Nurse walks up to Nick, and in seeing the aftermath of what has just happened, only sighs. “What the hell Nick?” she asks.

  “Don’t asks Linda. Just don’t ask,” he says in response. She throws her hands in the air as if to say that she “gives up”.

  “Okay, I won’t ask, but you’re cleaning the shit up!”

  “Don’t I always,” Nick mumbles under his breath.

  “Fucking goddamn motherfucking bloody ass fucking shitty ass fucking floors!” Nick says in obvious frustration in having to clean up the bloody mess left by the old woman’s body being drug down the hall. The fact that the nurse acted as if it was not a big deal that there was blood in the floor disturbed Nick on many levels. At the same time, he was understandably concerned over his own lack of a response and fight or flight reaction to what had been unfolding before him as well. Jeff had hauled ass with a fucking quickness. Nick however, stayed for the main attraction as if he were a deer caught in the headlights of a very wrinkly and heavily used vehicle. “Her pussy lips were just hanging there as if Steven Tyler had just suddenly had a seizure,” he thinks to himself. “Dripping of juices as if she were a dog in massive fit of uncontrollable heat,” he gags.

  “Are you okay?” Jeff asks as he walks up to Nick. He begins to laugh.

  “What do you think you cowardly asshole?” Nick responds.

  “What the fuck did you think I was going to do dick hole? I sure as shit wasn’t going to stand there and watch!”

  “Honestly, I’m not even sure why I did,” Nick says.

  “I actually find it funny that we’re all casually carrying on as if nothing is going on around here. You and I are continuing to work as if an old lady didn’t split open in front of us. Fuck…what is wrong with us?” Jeff asks.

  “Society has desensitized us to such things,” Nick says as he glances up at Jeff. “Well, me maybe. You ran like a little bitch,” he chuckles.

  “Fuck you man! My bitch ass ain’t dying today!” Jeff says. “FUCK!!!!” he screams.

  “What is it?” Nick asks startled. As he looks up, Jeff has his hands on each side of his head covering his ears.

  “IT HURTS! STOP IT!” he screams.

  “What hurts? What are you talking about?” Nick tosses his mop to the floor and takes Jeff by his shoulders. He gently shakes him. “What is happening?” He yells out. Jeff stops screaming, his hands suddenly fall by his side, and his eyes roll back into his head. His mouth opens wide, his tongue sliding out as if it were a snake. Nick jumps backwards, watching in both disgust and surprise. “My God! What the hell is going on around here?”

  Jeff’s tongue splits down the middle and lays over his lip and down his chin, each side wiggling independent of the other. His ears begin to bulge out on each side of his head until they explode, hands connected to thin arms coming out of each one. They grasp the center of the top of his head, one from each side, and pull it open.

  “Amathin, gracth, how stheet the sthoud,” Jeff says as he falls to the floor.

  Nick stands in shock. For the moment, all is silent.

  “I’ve got to get help. I’ve got to get help!” Nick begins to say repeatedly as he hurries down the hall and to the front desk. As he reaches it, no one is there. “Shit! Where is everyone?” The lights flicker. “Hell no! This is some horror movie shit!” He pushes his glasses up on his face.

  “Nick,” he hears called from down the hallway.

  “Yeah? I need help! There’s something going on around here!” he says.

  “Nick, come with us,” the voice says. Nick wipes his forehead of the moistness that has begun to form from his nervousness.

  “Are we getting out of here?” he says as he begins to walk down the hall. Darkness had finally fallen outside. His shift was officially over, and he was more than willing to leave at this point. Especially under the circumstances. As he walks down the hall, the lights continuing to flicker in and out, he believes he sees someone. “Linda? Is that you?” he asks, believing that it may be the nurse.

  The figure falls to all four limbs and begins to quickly crawl down the hall toward Nick. A loud scream begins to pierce his ears, Nick covers them and begins to run in the other direction. He quickly opens the door to one of the resident’s rooms and runs in. He locks the door behind himself and stands with his back to it breathing heavily, his eyes closed. The screaming from outside stops. Realizing he’s in Mrs. Johnson’s room, Nick begins to look around for anything that he may be able to use as a weapon if he were to need one. Shuffling things around, he finally notices Mrs. Johnson lying in her bed asleep, turned on her side, her comforter pulled tightly near her face. He turns his attention back to what he was doing, trying to be a bit quieter.

  “Vile?” he asks as he picks up a book from the dresser in Mrs. Johnson’s room. It struck him as odd that an old woman such as herself would read something with a title such as that. He opens it, reading, “DON’T READ THIS BOOK UNLESS YOU WANT TO OPEN THE GATES OF HELL, IF YOU ALREADY HAVE, RUN, AND FORGET YOU EVER HAVE” Nick chuckles and continues to read.

  “Take out your fucking teeth you old Hag! You’ve bitten my goddamn dick!” Mrs. Johnson removes Nick’s erect penis from her wrinkled eighty three year old mouth. Her saliva……”

  “FUCK! That shit happened!” he says in the realization of the accuracy of the book. He tosses it onto the ground in fear and quickly turns around only to notice that he’d startled Mrs. Johnson from her sleep. She sat up in bed and began to rub her eyes. “What have you done Mrs. Johnson? What the hell have you done?” he asks. He begins to hear the piercing sound from the hall again, and the door begins to pound loudly from the outside. Mrs. Johnson stands from out of her bed and walks over to Nick. Standing before him, she reaches down and unzips his pants. Nick is frozen in fear and does nothing but allow the act to unfold. She removes his penis and slowly detaches it from his body. Nick screams in pain. The old lady places the dick into Nick’s mouth.

  “Suck your own dick from now on you little shit!” she smiles, opens the door to the room revealing the other residents standing in the hallway, and joins them.

  “Is it done?” asks one of the older men in the group.

  “It’s done. The gates are open. Praise be!” she replies.

  “Yes, praise be.”

  As Ni
ck begins to bleed out, he hears the world outside begin to fall.

  “Fuck old people!” he thinks to himself as he dies, the world now falling under the control of evil old people.

  The streets ran purple with prune juice.

  Now if that isn’t poetic, then I don’t know what is.

  AFTERBIRTH

  NELSON SAMUELS

  The incidents you are about to read are based on the actual events that I witnessed over two days of the filming of the pornographic snuff film “Afterbirth”. The names of some of the people involved have been changed for the protection of both them, and their families, but the realities of what happened, have not.

  DAY 1

  “Wait! You want me to do what?”

  “I’ll repeat it one last time, Jerry!”

  “That’s all I ask, Frank. Just go over it slower this time.”

  “Do you see the woman lying on the bed?”

  “Yes, I see her.”

  “She’s about to give birth to a child at any moment. My team and I will be filming the entire birth,”

  “Okay, and?”

  “And, after the baby is born, I want you to step in the frame and fuck her bloody, wet pussy real hard. Do you think you can manage that?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can do it. Was that it?”

  “Pretty much,” Frank, wearing his favorite “Fuck Serbia” t-shirt, smiled and began to walk into the adjoining room. He turned, focusing his attention back on Jerry, “Oh, and try to smile!”

  “Like this?” Jerry asked demonstrating his biggest grin.

  “Yeah, that’ll do kid. That’ll do,” Frank walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Action!” he yelled at his crew. A dark-haired, pale faced young woman with gaunt features lay on a bed in the center of the room, and began to scream as a doctor wearing a surgical mask walked between her legs, and instructed her to “push”. Jerry attentively watched from the hallway as the woman gave birth to a baby girl. The doctor snipped the umbilical cord with one practiced swipe of his gleaming surgical scalpel as the rest of the afterbirth freely flowing from her vagina, as a nurse caught it in a bowl before it landed on the floor. The doctor snipped the umbilical cord with one practiced swipe of his gleaming surgical scalpel. Frank motioned for Jerry to come into the room.

  With an abundance of energy, Jerry removed his clothing, and stepped between the woman’s legs. With an unexplainable excitement, his penis had become erect, and he forcefully inserted it into the woman’s bloody lubricated center. Jerry began to thrust and vibrate his hips as he heard the baby cry in the background, but seemed undeterred from his actions by the sound, until the doctor placed the child in his line of sight, and held it upside down by the leg. The doctor placed the baby face down onto it’s Mother’s stomach. Jerry, growing concerned, glanced over at Frank.

  “Keep fucking!” Frank instructed, Jerry nodded his head in agreement and did as he was told, continuing to thrust his member deep into the woman’s bloody vagina. The doctor placed the handle of a wooden spoon in the tight anus of the baby, and left it in place. The baby screamed out in agonizing pain as it’s rectum began to profusely bleed, and it defecated on itself. The doctor laid his finger over into the product of the babies pain, and then placed it into his mouth. His eyes closed as he delighted in the taste of the newborn’s rectal nectar.

  “What are you doing?” Jerry asked.

  “Such a good girl!” the baby’s Mother said as the nurse placed the bowl of afterbirth to her mouth and began to drink of it’s contents. As she brought the bowl down from her mouth, Jerry noticed that bits of placenta and blood dripped from her lips. He began to gag.

  “Just keep fucking! Don’t you stop now!” Frank said. Jerry closed his eyes, in an attempt to block out the scene that is taking place in front of him. As he began to get lost in his mental fantasy, he heard the baby girl scream again, and was quickly whisked back to reality. He opened his eyes, noticing the doctor had slapped the baby across it’s tiny face, and was placing the scalpel to it’s neck.

  “No!” Jerry cried out as the doctor sliced the baby’s throat, it’s blood flowing down the Mother’s stomach and onto Jerry’s cock.

  “Cum, Jerry! Cum!” Frank ordered. Jerry, realizing he was there for a job and wouldn’t be paid, closed his eyes once more. He was back in his fantasy. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

  “Ahh…” Jerry removed his penis and ejaculated onto the woman’s stomach, his semen lying gently on the deceased baby’s face. Jerry fell to the floor in a fetal position and begins to cry. “What have I done?” he asked.

  “You’ve just created cinema magic, my friend!” Frank said. “Genius! Simply genius!” He looked at the doctor, “Kill the Mother, but fuck her before you discard the body,” he then turned to his assistant and the cameraman, “film it all, and we’ll call that a wrap for the day.”

  DAY 2

  After the events from the day before, I sat in the bedroom I’d been assigned in the home where we were filming, questioning myself as to why I was even there to begin with. Why had the director Frank asked a horror writer such as myself to come and witness such horrific events. As I sat there in deep thought, my heart still racing from what I’d seen, having never slowed down in the first place, the reality of the situation came to me. He’d mentioned being a fan of my writing. Frank said that the brutality of The SICK Chronicles spoke to him on a level unlike anything he’d ever read before. I often questioned myself when writing my stories as to their real purpose. Were they stories, metaphors for life, or art? Did they have the deeper meaning beyond the violence, sex, and gore than I intended them to, or was I just fooling myself in believing they did? Was I now witnessing a manifestation of the fictional monsters I wrote about in the very real person that was this director? Or was I the real monster for even inspiring such violence in people to begin with? As I sat in this lonely bedroom in the backwoods of Georgia, the lingering smell of old cigarette smoke stinging my nostrils with every breath that I took in, this is what I thought about. Then a knock at the bedroom door brought me out of my deep thoughts, and back into the hell I was now experiencing.

  “Are you ready, Nelson?” Frank asked me as he stood at my door. I slowly stood up and put on my best fake smile.

  “I’m ready,” I said as I began to follow him out of the door and down the hallway. He was filming everything in an old barn that he’d converted into a homemade studio at the back of the property. As we entered it, I looked for any signs of the previous days carnage, but there was none. He apparently employed a great clean up crew, as there was no evidence that anything had ever happened.

  “Have a seat over there,” He said to me, motioning toward a chair in the corner of the room. The same one I’d sat in the day before.

  “Frank,” I said.

  “Yeah, what is it?” he asked.

  “What’s my purpose here?”

  “You mean you don’t know?” he asked me with obvious confusion at my question. “I want to be the inspiration for your next story,” he said with a smile. Not knowing what to say, I smiled in return, and satisfied, he continued about his duties. Maybe I was a fool in being shocked at his response. Was it really so hard to believe that someone as crazy as himself would read my stories and eventually want to inspire one of their own? Probably not, but it wasn’t something that a simple author like myself should’ve ever have to have faced. Whatever I did, however I responded to what I would continue to witness, I couldn’t show any weakness. I feared that if I did, I wouldn’t be allowed to live to tell this tale. I was now under the impression that Frank wanted to test me. To see if I was true to who he, in his mind, believed that I was. Were the thoughts I’d placed on paper those of a raving mad man, or just those of an author with an overactive imagination? This was his quest. He wanted to see if I was real, and if I wasn’t, I felt he was going to make sure I never wrote another story such as the ones I’d written and sold as The SICK Chronicles, again.

>   To my horror, the man that played the role of the doctor from the day before, walked into the room holding a burlap sack in his hands, and in dumping it into the floor, the remains of the baby fell out. Frank quickly turned to see how I’ve responded to what's just happened. I, of course, showed no emotion. Satisfied, he gave further instructions to the man.

  “Drop your pants and fuck it,” he said. The small skeleton crew got into their respective places, turned on cameras, and made sure the scene was properly lit. The man, who I’ll refer to as the doctor from here on out, dropped his pants, and removed his flaccid member. “Action!” Frank yelled across the room. I wasn’t prepared for this. Of everything I’d written in my stories, from force feeding shit to a priest, super gluing a dick into a man’s ass and then ripping it out, even writing my own unspeakably horrid baby scene in “Innocence Lost”, didn’t prepare me for what I was about to witness.

  The doctor picked the baby up off of the floor and gently brushed it across his penis until he became erect. I wanted to turn away, but again, didn’t want to show any weakness, as Frank was constantly looking to see how I reacted. Placing the babies remains up to his mouth, the doctor placed his tongue into the little ones ass, and began to stroke his dick with his free hand. Stone faced, I watched the scene further unfold as the doctor removed his tongue from the deceased babies anus and proceeded to place his dick into it’s asshole. Slowly, he began to fuck the baby, pressing it’s tiny body against a wall, each thrust pressing tighter on it’s tiny skull. A woman with black hair and wearing nothing but a large strap on dildo, walked up behind the doctor, lubed it up, and forced it up his ass. The doctor placed both of his hands onto the wall as he leaned into her thrust, all while he continually fucked the babies remains. Frank smiled as he whispered instructions into his camera man’s ear. I watched in horror as the woman began to thrust harder into the doctor, and as she did, his own thrust into the baby, pressed it so hard against the wall that it’s tiny skull burst. It’s blood and brain matter began to slowly drip down the wall and the front of his legs. I place my hand over my mouth, but as Frank turns to see how I react, I quickly remove it, and only smile and nod in appreciation of what I’m witnessing.

 

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