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 My work in short fiction

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My work in short fiction Empty
PostSubject: My work in short fiction My work in short fiction EmptyMon Dec 05, 2011 11:25 am

Seems like a lot of posts were discarded since I was around here, so I would like to repost stuff.


The Anthropologist


I have always been fascinated by anthropology. The cultural relativity of human behavior is, I believe, the most magnificent thing in nature. When I was a young boy in the 80s a weird film struck my imagination. “Cannibal Holocaust” it was called. It was an Italian exploitation film about a documentary crew who seek out indigenous Amazonian cannibal tribes. Later on I discovered this discipline of anthropology and knew it was what I wanted to do. Exploring the ways of human cultures. Observing peculiar behavior and the strangest individual and group idiosyncrasies has always been my perk. I never was much of a doer, but more of an observer. Indeed, you may call me the “Observer”. Action is for those individuals who are slaves to desires and needs. I attain my satisfaction not from acting but from observing action. Vulgar people have action, intellectuals have contemplation and I have observation.
The only thing I am ashamed of after everything that happened is of the illogical failure of my defense mechanism against her feminine powers. Even now I have not reached a rational solution to this problem. There is no rational solution… for I never felt any sexual desire either for females or any other kind of object. I knew from the start I was asexual. There was something more sinister at work, something that escaped my cool logical devices. There was some repugnant thing about her that took control of my will. I never believed in free-will anyway. But this was something unforeseen; it was some sort of degeneration of my rationality. I bet she enjoyed it, the power to pervert my logical inner self with her feminine stupidity. Stupid she was not though. That was also fascinating.
She was into philosophy, so it was even more awful since I was self-educated in most areas of philosophy from a young age. But I went on to study anthropology since I detested mind numbing academic philosophical sophistry. She was a student of philosophy though. Reading Hegel made her horny. Quoting Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus would give her an orgasm. Sheer stupidity. I will say this about some old prejudice about how women are mysterious. While people consider sexual stimulation in males as being primitive or rudimentary they think that women are somewhat more “complicated”, while in fact they are just as vulgar. The difference is, as I have observed, that sexual stimulation and attraction in them goes more through their minds. Not that they are more intellectual, on the contrary. Their brains seem to have evolved as sexual organs which would explain their inferiority concerning intellectual activity. No wonder she despised the genius of Arthur Schopenhauer, for he was the only real philosopher who had exposed the female sex for what it actually is. If he was alive today he would be disgusted seeing what our Aryan civilization had become. Mankind had become feminized, it had become decadent. No longer was there masculinity, it had been replaced by some degenerated thing called “hyper masculinity”. The now feminized males were, along with the females, subordinate to the system they once gave birth to and ruled over. The system was the only true masculine object which encouraged feminine ways.
She laughed at my ideas. But she said I was cute when I started philosophizing with passion. I had no choice in the matter. I was forced into a relationship with her. It was like I couldn’t control myself, I felt like something foreign was compelling me to seduce her. Could it be that my selfish genes were in control of my behavior? Was it determinism? It had to be something rational, something that I could logically understand, yet it eluded me, and it still does. That is why I cannot yet end my life, for I cannot find a reasonable answer for what happened.
We didn’t really fit; she was an attractive social butterfly with big tits. I was a socially inept, asexual nihilist. Her blonde hair would make a serial rapist drool and become filled with sexual rage. Her breasts, though very big, were not saggy at all. She didn’t need any push-up bra. I wasn’t an ugly boy. I was just born in a wrong time period. Modernity disgusted me with its perverted culture. There was no mob of people for me to fit in. I was an outcast, though she did not care. She loved me more for the fact that I wasn’t like her ex-boyfriend.
She was a masochist, like any real female. What she wanted was a man to dominate her, not only sexually but also intellectually. As I said before, I felt compelled to act in strange ways. I couldn’t resist acting in ways that made her fall in love with me. She was no romantic however. She knew that love was some kind of mental disorder. So she hated me for that, but it was more like love-hate. She threw tantrums at me just so that I would become annoyed and fuck her. We were abnormal; we had sex in the most unnatural ways we could possibly think of. I loved strangling her when she came because I despised her orgasms. She had a stupid grin of her face; her sparkling blue eyes were so cliché. I enjoyed fucking her between her big tits. It felt more submissive for her. Fucking her ass was not an option because she’d have an orgasm and in fucking her mouth there was the possibility that this stupid bitch would bit my penis. Soon I began to reflect on my behavior and I had realized I had started to degenerate, both physically and mentally.
My cold logic was compelling me to accept that she was my disease. I had to get rid of her but I couldn’t because I seemed to deny any reason to leave her. There was only one rational scheme I could implement here. I had to force her back into her ex-boyfriend’s arms. They were still friends even after they broke up. Didn’t matter to me. He was some white trash, a real bad boy. Lacked any kind of intellectual virtues, he was almost apelike in behavior. It was clear she was stupid, like all women for that matter, for she hooked up with such a pathetic being like him. It was natural for them to be together. She wasn’t for me. What we had was a mistake, a disease. Nature wanted stupid people like them to reproduce, not me. I was actually the error in evolution, while they were normality.
The plan was simple, I was about to embark on an expedition to study a strange tribe from Papua-New Guinea called Korowai. All I had to do was start up a fight by acting a scene of jealousy and after I’d leave she’d just fall back with her ex. Her psychology was simple enough. It was all working according to plan. After the fight she became confused and said I wasn’t acting like myself. I departed by plane with my team of researchers. We said goodbye with pessimism, though we didn’t really break-up. But my prediction would soon become true.
After arriving in Papua I soon started feeling that my mental discipline had regenerated. She was no longer on my radar. I no longer had erections while imagining her tits. She was just another heap of elementary particles in space, without any value, without any heart. She was meat slowly rotting away. Her pussy was nothing special, just some disgusting organ from which new specimens are created. There was nothing beautiful about it. Although I seemed to still enjoy the idea of licking her clit and biting her ear. I had to submerge myself more into my mission here, researching more about the Korowai tribe. This tribe has been reported by former anthropologists to have been practicing cannibalism up to the present day. I was curious enough and wished to verify this for myself. Some anthropologists however have suggested that some clan of the tribe perpetuate the myth of active cannibalism in order to encourage tourism.
The Korowai are the last indigenous tribe that is still living in the Stone Age. They number at around 3000. Until 1970 they didn’t know any other humans existed but themselves. They are the only group of people that live in tree houses. They have even been granted the official status in Papua as being “tree dwellers”. This was fascinating for me. They seemed to be the most connected people with the ecosystem in contrast with modern people who are the true savages of the planet. Modern humans are not “homo sapiens” but actually “homo rapiens”. Living in tree huts made me think of the Korowai as closer to our other primate relatives. They weren't special in their primitiveness, they were just like other tribes still living in the past. There were no watches, nobody cared about time. They laughed when I tried to describe to them the concept of schedule. They didn’t wear clothes. They didn’t go to work 8 hours a day. They didn’t plan their life. They had no conception of that Jewish-bourgeois idea of “career” or “lifestyle”. Their religion was some primitive form of ancestral worship and animism, though they did have some fears of witch doctors and witches. Their marriage system was a bit stranger but it wasn’t what attracted my attention.
My attention was attracted by their primitive system of justice. Crude it was not. But it implied consuming the flesh of the guilty party, in which members of the tribe would engage in. Problem is it was claimed by both the tribesmen and the other anthropologists that the Korowai had abandoned all forms of cannibalism since contacting other people. This was our mission here, to verify if there was any truth to the rumors that they were still participating in cannibalistic justice. Sadly our few weeks of stay with the tribes had proven unable to give us any fact about this. The other members of the party were talking about going home, but I was enraged, I wished to find out for myself. I decided the only way to get closer to them was to live more and adopt their ways which fascinated me from the beginning. Soon enough I discarded my clothes and my equipment, my watch and documents. The other anthropologists thought I had gone insane and tried to reason with me to go back home with them and abandon this insane plan. But no, I wasn’t insane; I knew what I was going to do. They were fools. After they left I started to act more and more like the tribesmen. At first they weren’t keen on taking me in as a part of their tribe since my white color was something foreign to them, but once they saw my dedication to their strange and fascinating ways they had become more accustomed to me.
Time had started to disappear from my consciousness, modern life as well. I forgot what home looked like. I forgot how she looked like or how her tits felt like. It didn’t matter anyway. I was closer to home than ever before. Modernity was barbaric compared to this. For the first time in my life I felt alive. A will to power started brewing inside my soul. It was something dark and terrifying at first since my cold logical personality was not accustomed to this. More time passed, how long, I do not know. Life was no longer something mechanistic, planned ahead or ruled by law or institutions like it was before in civilization. I embraced the Korowai way. They didn’t have institutions or laws, they had strong men. The personal qualities of the strong men were what constituted the powers and rights that be.
Time disappeared almost completely and I felt like God. I think they all felt like gods but didn’t know how to say it. We were no longer meager humans, we were flowing with Nature. Then the most beautiful thing happened. I had finally received the opportunity to be a witness to a trial of justice inside the tribe. One of the women from the tribe was going to be tried for having seduced a married man. I was asked to participate with the strong men and their elders at the trial. It was what I wanted from the start but hadn’t won their trust at first. But now that I had, I was finally get the chance to observe this fascinating custom of theirs. I knew the woman wasn’t going to live after the trial. They were very patriarchal in their ways. After she was judged and declared guilty of witchcraft. I was joyous to experience this up closely. I didn’t know how she was going to be killed. At first they started whipping her, but soon after serious torture had ensued. No one protested. They knew what must be done and probably had done it many times before. By the time her throat was slit with the ceremonial knife she was barely alive. The chieftain did it. Afterwards the really horrifying part began. Some of the strong men helped the elders remove her scalp and crack her skull. I didn’t understand why they did it until I saw them remove her brain which they put on the table and started cutting it into bits and pieces.
The chieftain called me up and told me that if I wished to be a strong man I must take an active part in the punishment of the guilty. He showed me a bowl with a few pieces of her brain which I was instructed to consume. It was so fascinating that I felt compelled to accept this honor. I felt no moral sickness, after all, any true anthropologists knows morality is but a social illusion for vulgar people. I started consuming what was in my bowl along with the strong men in the hut while the elders and the chieftain were chanting some weird religious songs of theirs for the purpose for banishing the evil spirits inside that woman. It was said that consuming her brain would make us immune to future witchcraft from the women. At the end I was welcomed into their fold as a rightful strong man. The chieftain offered me the ceremonial knife as a welcoming gift. He said it is blessed and its purpose is to sever the flesh of witches and witch doctors. Even though I was a man of logic I had somewhat understood what he meant by it, I remembered my disturbing experience with her. I thought in my mind that it had to be some irrational and despicable force inside her that corrupted my sanity. Like the witches of Korowai she wasn’t an ordinary female, there was some dark taint in her essence.
I felt a powerful instinct to return to civilization and its discontents. Again I felt the ugly notion of time running out. I felt like I didn’t have much time until my sanity was about to slip from my grasps forever. I had to solve my problem of mental impotence. Through the local authorities I had found the embassy and tried to return home as fast as I could. I found out I had disappeared for only 5 months. Nothing could of changed that much. It took another few days to finally get on a plane back home. I had to call her and tell her I was back. She sounded erratic, but in her voice I still detected love. She didn’t know what to say; only that she was glad I came back to her. She told me that tomorrow would be her birthday and that she wanted to spend it with me alone at her place.
Next day around evening I went to her place. She was dressed up real nice in black dress; her hair was just as beautiful as I once remembered. Her breasts were the same, but they looked even more attractive. She jumped in my arms like I was coming back from some war. I kept cool, just like in the good old days. We sat at the table and ate dinner, while she kept torturing me with questions about what I’ve been doing there for the past months. My answers were minimal and my behavior stoical. She said she still loves me. I said to her that I knew the solution to our problems. Before she could ask me what it was, the door bell rang. She opened the door and there was a courier that had brought her a small present from someone. It was from her ex. Jealousy started to pummel my brain. I pretended everything was cool. It was a pair of earrings. She asked if I didn’t mind if she tried them on. I said “ok”. They were indeed beautiful, just like her. Afterwards we sat on her bed and started kissing.
I didn’t feel mentally strong enough to resist her. My sanity slipped away. She started giving me a blowjob, but I was getting bored so I decided that fucking her throat would be more entertaining. She was enjoying herself like a dumb bitch that she was. Soon I found myself giving her oral. I was licking her clitoris, which I always seemed to enjoy. Something was knocking in my mind though. I quickly remembered my Korowai strong man training and the solution I had in store. I stopped and told her I also had a birthday gift. I brought her my ceremonial knife and she said we should role-play a rape fantasy of hers. I started fucking her while I held the knife at her throat. We stared into each other’s eyes. She was enjoying it. I started getting furious. I finally enacted justice upon her wretched soul. The chaotic taint from her blue eyes was finally disintegrated into oblivion. There was blood everywhere but she couldn’t scream since I held her mouth shut with my hand.
I sat with her in my arms for a few hours; her body was going colder by the minute. The poor little thing brought me so much anguish, but now she looked so peaceful and innocent. I still loved her a bit. I felt that we should cherish this moment one more time. Too bad she couldn’t cum while being dead, but I did, in her cold vagina. The important part was soon to come. I had to perform the ritual in order to break free from here. Pulling out her brain was no pleasant thing to do. But I had to. It took me a few days to eat most of her brain. I was locked alone in her apartment. It’s no mystery what happened next. Everyone saw my trial on TV. I actually became quite a star and weirdoes idolize or worship me.
I know you’re a good man. You’re the only cell mate that doesn’t judge me for what I’ve done. Your Christian faith probably compels you to not judge others for you too shall be judged. But I am telling you, your God doesn’t exist. There is no salvation for humankind. Those few nights in which I ate her brain… I am telling you. I consumed her soul. She is a part of me now. I couldn’t run from her, the only rational way to end it was to bind her to me forever. And if by some twisted perversion of the universe your God actually exists and we shall all be judged then she will be with me even in Hell.


Last edited by Lex on Mon Dec 05, 2011 11:26 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: My work in short fiction My work in short fiction EmptyMon Dec 05, 2011 11:26 am

Maelstrom



Looking back at that peculiar, one time experience, I am afflicted with a mild but tangible sense of paranoia and anxiety which sweeps all the way from my degenerate inner self towards my frosty shell. The event I am referring to has instilled an obscene and almost instinctual skepticism in my organism. This disease – because extreme skepticism can only be classified as a form of mental disorder – has plagued me ever since, such that I am now weary of anything I reason, observe or believe is happening or is “true”.
Indeed, not even this traumatic experience of the most inducing electrifying anguish am I sure of. I am not certain whether any part of my confession is true, nor does it seem to matter, for the horrifying feelings I cannot seem to deny or forget are more real than anything an ordinary person might call “reality”. If my rationality and my memory are still able to grasp some sort of autobiography then I would say that since early childhood I have always felt apart from the world, including my own body in which I felt more like a stranger than a part of. Like a puppet master pulling strange strings in order to make this foreign vehicle, which I call my body, move or act. Later in life I found out the psychological term for this sensation – depersonalization. In the world I always felt somewhat like a spectator or a puppet myself. I am skeptical I was even right when I said I was pulling the strings on my body… free-will? Pure Christian fantasies…
At an early age I was diagnosed with a generalized anxiety disorder. I was prescribed antidepressants for as long as I can remember, but to no avail. The pills had almost no real impact on my mental health. As time went by I had become more and more cynical and I dared not glimpse even the smallest possibility of finding a cure for my distress. Psychology for me was just another kind of fantastic literature, just like philosophy or religion. Believing in the unconscious, the libido, defense mechanisms, or in platonic forms or in some god or spirit… it was all bullshit. Humans could never achieve control over their bodies or their minds, there was no cure for my psychological dysfunction, how could there be? Antidepressants were just some light, legal and socially acceptable drugs for rich kids who were too scared to do cocaine because they watched too many anti-drug campaigns. Even though I wasn’t a rich kid I was taking the antidepressants like the good boy that I was. There even were discounts on them from the government. Talk about weirdness.
As I have said, the drugs didn’t have any real positive impact, but they did have some disturbing side-effects of which I am ashamed to speak about. It all started one ugly day when I was at my psychiatrist for a routine check-up. As always I wasn’t hoping for anything new under the sun. But he started telling me about a foreign and rather unknown pharmaceutical company which was trying to create a new form of antidepressant. Until now nobody knew how antidepressants function, all they knew was that they had positive effects. But this time they said they were really trying to understand how the chemicals work on the brain. He said they were looking for extreme cases like me to serve as test subjects. There was nothing for me to do but sign a contract and take their pill. I was hesitant, I was pessimistic about the prospect, but I was also pessimistic about the efficacy of my regular antidepressants. I couldn’t help it, I had to try them – a small irrational spark of hope wrestled with my depressed soul.
Positive effects were soon unleashed a few weeks after using this new drug. I will not even mention its name, for it brings back a ghoulish angst that would disturb me even more. I should have known there was something unnatural in those drugs, for no visible side-effect was evident, and that made me skeptical of their properties. You could say I was too paranoid, but it wasn’t that… Later on I found out what the side-effect was: a cyclopean sensitivity to noise. I had always been psychologically disturbed by noise, but then it had become unbearable. At the slightest pinch of aesthetically displeasing sound I would become stricken with an extreme anxiety, never before experienced prior to taking the new drug.
Then, in one random night when I forgot to take the pill, it happened. It started off as a common nightmare in which I was oppressed by the disturbing and erratic sound of a washing machine. It was so loud, and it was getting louder and louder. I woke up, I was conscious, yet the noise was still haunting me. I couldn’t make it stop. I didn’t know where it was coming from. It was night, complete darkness, there was no washing machine, yet I was still terrorized by its insane mechanical noises. My body was trembling like never before, convulsively. I began crying out loud “make it stop!” and for 15 minutes I was completely trapped in this perverse scene of psychological destruction. Afterwards I was still left with a panic attack, my heart was racing, I was sweating too much, and my hands were shaking. I didn’t know what to do. “Something must be done”, I said to myself. I realized I forgotten to take the pill for that day. Fearful of the traumatic experience and not fully sane, I reached into the drawer with my trembling hands and took out a fistful of pills and swallowed them all with some whiskey, even though I wasn’t allowed any alcohol, – I didn’t care anymore, I’d rather died than experienced something like that for a second time. But Fate was cruel, and in that night I did not die, but went through something even more terrifying than I could have possibly foreseen.
After swallowing the pills I crawled back into the bed, praying to that nonexistent Christian God to help me die. I fell into a deep slumber. But… I was awoken again by another noise, that of the winter storm. As I opened my eyes everything was changed. I wasn’t in my apartment anymore; I was in a foreign place. It looked like a small cabin, with a small fire and a TV set. I got up. I didn’t know who the owner of that place was; there was no one there except me. I began looking around. On the table next to the TV I glimpsed over some peculiar sketches of something that looked like a detonation gadget and next to it there were some objects, wires and instruments that might have been used to make such a bomb. What appeared strange to me was that I actually seemed to be able to understand how it was engineered, despite the fact that I was just an accountant who has never studied any engineering as far as I can remember.
I went to the bathroom to wash my face, still feeling anxious, when I gazed over in the mirror. It certainly was me, but it wasn’t the same me. My body seemed to be older than I thought I was. I knew I was in my twenties, yet in the mirror I saw a man over 30 with scruffy stubble. I turned to stone, even the anxiety stopped for a few moments while I was still trying to process what had happened to me. I might have had some sort of accident and someone rescued me, bringing me to the cabin in the wild. I became erratic; I was hungry so I went into the kitchen trying to find something to eat but to no avail. Everything was already consumed, but I did find some strange newspaper articles about a recent terrorist attack on some small pharmaceutical company. I didn’t bother readying it. Something sinister was beckoning me outside; there wasn’t anything in the cabin for me. I sensed something outside that I knew I had to do.
Outside the scenery was unbearable. Near the cabin was a frozen lake flanked by a lush forest covered in snow. I didn’t find any warm clothing inside so I was running around in my white clothes. I started doing what I always did in my hometown as a kid – I began throwing sticks and stones in the frozen lake. I couldn’t hurt the world so I at least tried to hit the icy pond. But when I gazed at the sky it was so detestable, it gave me such anguish that I felt I was about to puke. It was a maelstrom of some sort of unnatural coloration, black and green molded together into a whirlpool around the Sun, which was holy black. I thought it might be some sort of solar eclipse, for it could not have been something natural.
The black and green heavens were circling chaotically around the blackened Sun, and my stomach started to feel horrible as it was itself pummeled around in some circular motion by something akin to a washing machine. I was fatigued and so I fell down in the snow. After being unconscious for a few hours I woke up frightened by my situation, I didn’t even know how I came to be there or why. What happened that night? I didn’t know where to start looking for answers, nor could I find the mental power for that kind of search. I lingered on, wanting to run away from that place. I didn’t wish to go back inside the cabin. I started walking past it, trying to go home, when I saw something behind it that caught my eye. I rushed to find a bag near a freshly dug grave.
I reached into the bag and took out the first thing I could find. It was some badly written note; the handwriting was definitely not that of a sane person. I only glanced at it for a few seconds; it looked like a suicide note. Something rang from inside the bag. It must have been a phone. I didn’t know the number but I answered, thinking I was perhaps going to be saved. It was her voice, my only friend. She was crying. I didn’t understand what was happening. But then she told me the police were looking for me. She said I did some horrible thing but that my schizophrenic disorder would save me from the death penalty. My spine began to chill; a panic attack soon got hold of me. I didn’t even understand what she was talking about, I told her that I don’t suffer from schizophrenia but from generalized anxiety disorder, and then she started crying more and said she was sorry but she had to tell the police where I was hiding. I felt betrayed... That maelstrom in the sky wasn’t disappearing but getting worse. I was too bewildered to even reason out what was happening to me. There was no life left in me to do anything. I remember sinking into that open grave and falling asleep. I think I died of frost right there.
Then I woke up in my bed at home. I ran towards the mirror and it was the good old me, the same mentally disturbed me. I thought the nightmare was over. I had to tell someone, so I phoned my psychiatrist to tell him the new drug was even more damaging than the normal antidepressants. But then he said something strange, that he didn’t knew what I was talking about. He said he never recommended me any new experimental drug and that it was all my hallucination. And then when I told him more about my condition he even denied I have generalized anxiety disorder. He said I am diagnosed with something else – schizophrenia.
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