Sculptures of Pain

He was a huge hit with all his fellow art lovers. However, they didn't know his secret. The only people who do know his dirty, no filthy little secret are his victims, which are now on display. You'd think people would notice how "life-like" his artwork can be. After all, practically all his arts are of the human body. Some people say hes an absolute genius but I just say he's disgusting! I mean how can you call this man a genius when he murders numerous people for his own personal delight. You may ask how I know this considering I mentioned that the only persons who know his secret were his victims. The reason why I know all this is because I too, was one of his victims. For most cases that would make me a ghost right? Well... your right I am. Believe it or not, I'm the ghost who's responsible for the unexplained happenings at the museum or in his exhibit to be exact. Most people would run in fear when they heard or saw what I do because they don't realize what I'm really trying to do. What I'm trying to do is actually explain my story! I don't even care anymore if someone can save me anymore, I just want that displeasing scumbag to be taken care of. I've tried and tried to find someone who could hear me but I know that can never happen. I've seen and heard all the ghost stories but I never believed them. Oh, and did I tell you (whoever you are) that the only reason why I haunt this building is because I'm trapped in it. That means that I have to see all his other new victims being savagely killed right in front of my face. Oh how this chills me to even remember the horrid sights! But alas my hopes of bringing him down where crushed and shattered. But then suddenly I remembered a critical part of those ghost stories. I remembered was that there were people (I called them "nutcases" when I heard about them) that can go to these haunted places and scope out the ghosts and talk to them with this device that captures what the "ghosts" are trying to tell them. They almost always ask the paranormal creatures what they want or why they're here. So I decided to create a fright in the museum so insane that no one would ever want to return again. Then, eventually, they museum's manager will call the nutcases and have them come visit to see if they can get rid of me. That's when I would explain my predicament. One year later, the "ghost squad" came and started asking me questions I answered to the best of my ability. But as you know I'm just a ghost and nobody cares about little old me so the murderer continued to murder and I didn't even make a dent on what I wanted to do. However the "ghost squad" managed to help me escape the museum and set my souls free this I was finally at an eternal rest but I couldn't save the hundreds and growing victims of this madman.

A Road to Death

I stared into the darkness of the open road. I've heard the rumors, I've heard the tales but I didn't believe them. But then why was I so frightened. I knew that if I walked down that path nothing would happen for it wasn't true. However if all the stories and legends were true I would be entering a one way street to my expiration date. Rumor has it that if someone had the guts to travel this abandoned road they would start to hear foot steps, mysterious laughter, and helpless cries of past victims. There have been several dares that said if you were to walk all the way down to a complete dead end, turn around, and head back somewhere along your journey you'd be murdered. By what though? "Ghosts are fake, pretend, imaginary, it's probably just a savage creature of some sort. Yeah, that's it!" I kept saying to myself even though I still had some doubts. "Why did I ever accept that stupid dare?" I thought. But here I am scared as can be for something that isn't even proved to be real. With a loud gulp I began to walk down a path to fear, a road to death. "So far so good" egging myself on. Which was a lie, I already needed to change my pants. I heard a faint scream. Assuming it was a fox I continued on. "O.K., now I'm scared" I admit. "I heard screams and what sounded like footsteps that was right behind me. Or is this just all in my head? What was that!?" I spin around at the speed of light to find the source of the mysterious laughter. "Now I know it's all in my head." I whisper to myself as if anyone was around to eavesdrop. "Halfway there!" I shout in sweet joy, "But a long way to go.". On the way back I heard the same noises and the same laughter, cries, and footsteps. I began to panic for I started to consider this all being real, not fake. I then dashed down the never-ending depths of the long twisted pathway. When the end of the road became clear I hollered, "FREEDOM!" and sprinted to what would be my ultimate finish line. Just as I took one giant leap to get out of that forsaken place. Something or someone grabbed me mid-air and slammed me against the cold, dirt road. While it was dragging me out towards the unknown I clawed at the ground. Hoping I would catch on the a stick or a rock to defend myself with.but nothing came up. I began to see my own blood soaking down into the dirt from the cuts scrapes of the dagger-like rocks. I managed to see what was dragging me by twisting my neck in an awkward position. The figure I saw was a transparent form of a sickly looking human being. Now I knew it wasn't all in my head for I could tell that this was the end. I still get dragged. That's how all my fellow victims died. We are dragged for what seems like an entirety. Not necessarily us, but out spirits because we eventually reach a point when we die and our souls immediately come out of our cold, dead bodies. But from then on our spirits are dragged. As our screams become fainter and fainter to those who dare choose this path we all know that no one can save us. I always wonder where their taking us. When my body eventually is found and buried properly I shall evaporate and no longer be dragged. However I'm punished to an eternity of greif and regret because my soul is forever stuck in that path. The past victims are there to laugh and follow you. But the newest person to die on that road has to be the next murderer and if we refuse we are damned to hell for that is much worse. But now it's my time to play killer. And would you look at that. Who is he? My next victim perhaps?