A TASTE OF SICKNESS: UNCUT AND UNCENSORED VIOLENCE AND GORE

by Nelson Samuels

  A masked man walked into the scene and handed the woman a large knife in which she placed to the throat of the doctor. As he began to reach climax and come, ejaculating into the babies remains, she sliced his throat from left to right, pulling back on his chin, and nearly beheading him. She licked the blood than ran down his back, pulled her dildo from his ass, and as the doctor’s lifeless body fell to the floor, she turns to the camera, smiles, and takes a bow.

  “Cut!” Frank yells as he turned to me. “How was that, Nelson?” he asked.

  “Oh, very nice,” I said as I stood and approached him. “That’s given me a lot of great material for my next story.”

  “Great!” he said. “That’s my goal. After while should be really fun for you then,” he said with a smile.

  “What’s after while?” I asked.

  “A circle jerk unlike any you’ve ever seen,” he said as he patted me on the shoulder and walked away.

  We had lunch, or at least I attempted to have lunch. No one else seemed to have any trouble eating their meal. To them, everything going on seemed to be normal everyday behaviour. Frank expected, from my written material, for it to be normal for me as well. In a sense, I guess it was. I did think about these sorts of things on a regular basis. I had to in order to construct the sorts of characters and stories that I did. However, even though I realized the types of individuals I wrote about really existed in the world, which is the main reason I write them as real and raw as I do, it didn’t change the fact that witnessing it in person was on a completely different level altogether. In my mind, as an author, and even personally, I feel true horror should never have a happy ending. So my stories never do. Very often, life hardly ever does itself. People are evil, and life can be as equally evil and cruel as well. I have always tried to keep things in my tales as true to life and real as I can, and it’s unfortunate that Hollywood, as well as other authors, don’t feel the need to do the same.

  As I sit and think about these things over my lunch, partly proud of my accomplishments, and the other part now regretful due to the experience I’m having, I watch Frank laugh and carry on as if this is a normal day for him. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he’s the very person I write about. True evil. The question is, do I draw my inspiration from people such as himself, or do they draw it from authors such as me? This haunts me as we finish our meals and I’m led back into the studio out back. Seated in my chair once more, I watched as a group of six men walked into the room. Each were naked, some I recognized from lunch, some I didn’t, and each had a seat in a circle in the middle of the room. The carnage from the earlier morning’s scene still remained, but no one seemed to take notice, or even mind. Frank stripped off his clothes, and joined them, completing a circle of seven.

  I take quick notice that no one is behind the camera, and that the man that normally operated it was also seated in the circle.

  “Is the camera running?” Frank asked allowed. I saw the man I was referring to nod in response to him that it was. Satisfied, each man gripped the man to his rights penis, and began to furiously stroke it.

  Things seemed normal at first, well as normal as any seven man circle jerk can seem I guess, until I noticed each had a small hatchet lying in front of them. Only God knows how I didn’t notice this to begin with. Maybe I was distracted by the fact that there was about to be a fucking circle jerk in front of me, I don’t know. Each man picked up the hatchet with his free hand and held it chest high.

  “As we ejaculate, we offer ourselves to you, in the hopes that you’ll accept us into your kingdom of damnation. Our semen is our offering, our blood spilled in sacrifice to you, our maker. It’s you, Satan, that has blessed us with the gift of child, passion, sex, lust, and death, and it’s in death that we will now serve you!” they said in unison as each man buried his hatchet into chest of the man next to him. Each one ejaculated as the hatchet tore into the chest cavity and blood began to flow into the floor. Frank, and all of the others fell over in death.

  I stand, “What the fuck just happened?” I said allowed as I began to breathe heavily. I had no idea where I was, having been taken there blindfolded to begin with, and my phone didn’t even fucking work. Believe me, I’d tried it. I sat back down into my chair for a moment trying to gather my thoughts. I may have sat there five minutes, as I finally noticed a woman wearing a mask walk into the room and toward the camera. She removed it from the tripod.

  “You can go now, Nelson,” she said as she walked out of the room.

  Was that it? What the hell had just happened? I asked no questions, and only gathered my belongings from the room I’d stayed in and began to walk out of the woods. I didn’t know in what direction to go, or where it’d even lead. I just walked. I eventually came across a simple two lane paved road, and walked for at least an hour until a truck pulled up beside me. An older man was driving and asked if I needed a ride.

  “Please,” I said.

  “Get on in, son,”

  “Where am I?” I asked him as he began to drive.

  “Where you are isn’t important,” he said as he stared at me directly in the eyes and smiled. “It’s where you’re heading that matters.”

  As I sat in that old man’s truck, driving in the opposite direction from the carnage I’d just witnessed over those past couple of days, I realized that truer words had never been spoken.