July 30th, 2004

this is me

reminiscent of slaughterhouse-five...

One of the creepier things that I have read recently (Spares by Michael Marshall Smith; pages 307-308):


Gap children's bodies lay all over the ground, broken across paths and lolling out of the doorways of huts, some little more than babies, others in their early teens. Some were recently dead, others had bloated in the heat until their guts exploded. Many of the corpses seemed to have a distinctive wound, a deep slash across the throat. The dust was crusted brown with their blood.

We came upon a makeshift pen in which about ten children squatted in the dirt. Some were missing limbs, their stumps hastily cauterized. Others were bleeding to death there and then, while the remainder stared hopelessly up at the sky, flinching as they heard us approach. Most of them had been blinded.

The rest of the unit caught up with us then, grinding to a horrified halt, and as we stood staring we heard a shout, and turned to see a soldier pointing at us. He was standing in the clearing at the center of the village, and it looked as if there were others there. We left the pen and approached him, passing walls stained with splatters of blood. Yards away we stopped, and this is what we saw:

Ten soliders, most naked and dripping with sweat, others with strange scraps of clothes still hung around them.

A small pile of children's bodies, the clearing red with what had escaped from them.

Three live children, two girls and a boy, held down on their knees by makeshift wooden frames.

And in the middle of all this, nodding his head in time to the song which the soldiers were chanting, stood their Lieutenant. He alone of all the soldiers was more or less still in uniform, though his pants were around his ankles. He had his cock out, and was thrusting it in and out of a gash which had been cut across the throat of the five-year-old girl who was being held down in front of him. Her head was held up so that he could see her eyes as he worked. She was still alive.

We stood there for an eternity, without moving, as the other soldiers stared back at us. It felt as if the world had stopped.

I pulled the rifle from over my soldier and shot the Lieutenant in the head.


I hate to say it, but I wish I could write like that. It's fucking disturbing as hell, it's well written, and it will be giving me nightmares tonight. Oh, how I wish I could write like that.
  • Current Mood
    disturbed