Death and the Creation of St. Jimmy

Jimmy has not been seen since Thursday the 10tht. Today is Monday the 14^th. I would know I am his best friend, his blood brother. Last night I got a call from his parents they called the cops on Saturday, you see Jimmy would often leave for a day at the most then call his folks from where ever. So his parents called me saying that the cops had called and found him dead, oh and they wanted to talk to me.

The cops showed up at ten that night, they brought me down to the station, first they asked me questions like what was my name, my age. Then they started asking about Jimmy: how did I know him what was my relation to him. Then came the pictures the office slid a file over, saying, "Here take a look at what happened."

And I did. There were five color photos inside. The first was a family photo of him and his family Jimmy was circled in red ink. Then were two of him on a metal examining table like the ones you see in the movies. Then came a photo of him on a wooden cross, blood oozing from his hands and feet, which were nailed to the wood. Blood oozed from the cuts around his head where he wore a crown of thorns, a trail of red stained his side from a puncture wound there. He wore only a loincloth and that with crown, he looked like a picture of Jesus I had seen in a church… he was Jesus, hanging there on the cross he was Jesus. The last was a shot of the ground. Blood had pooled on the hard pavement, and a spear lay there, a metal tip on a shovel handle. Next to it lay a chipped and worn wooden cup, one filled with dried blood. There was a handwritten note in that file. It said that the spear handle was 2.3 years old where as the spearhead was 2003 years old, and the cup was 2015 years old but the blood in the cups was only 1999 years old. Now I know my bible as well as anyone raised as a good catholic. The spear of destiny pieced Jesus’s side, and the Holy Grail caught his blood. Now nearly 2000 years later, my friend was crucified, and a spear a little over 2000 years old had pieced his side. Jesus’s blood had been caught in a cup no, The Cup, a cup about 2000 years old which had also caught my friends blood. There he hung on the cross and he was there my blood brother, Jimmy. We had made jokes about Jesus. Now, here he was being crucified now he was Jesus, he was the reincarnation of the greatest of all con-men. For when you come down to it, there is no scientific proof that the Judo-Christian God is real. Therefor there can not logically be a Son of God, so if this Jesus fellow excited he was the greatest con man of all time. Jesus the great con-men. Anyone can turn wine into water, just add powdered wine, the walking on water thing is a good one I personally would like to know how he pulled that pone, now the curing the sick . . . that’s the oldest trick in the book just cure your "sick" friend. My best friend Jimmy was on a cross, they call him St. Jimmy now, the cops called it a murder and mutilation, his parents called it a horrible and vile deed, and I said it was what had been done. And now I sit here in a prison . . .

~THE END~

Death and the Creation of St. Jimmy

Jimmy has not been seen since Thursday the 10tht. Today is Monday the 14^th. I would know I am his best friend, his blood brother. Last night I got a call from his parents they called the cops on Saturday, you see Jimmy would often leave for a day at the most then call his folks from where ever. So his parents called me saying that the cops had called and found him dead, oh and they wanted to talk to me.

The cops showed up at ten that night, they brought me down to the station, first they asked me questions like what was my name, my age. Then they started asking about Jimmy: how did I know him what was my relation to him. Then came the pictures the office slid a file over, saying, "Here take a look at what happened."

And I did. There were five color photos inside. The first was a family photo of him and his family Jimmy was circled in red ink. Then were two of him on a metal examining table like the ones you see in the movies. Then came a photo of him on a wooden cross, blood oozing from his hands and feet, which were nailed to the wood. Blood oozed from the cuts around his head where he wore a crown of thorns, a trail of red stained his side from a puncture wound there. He wore only a loincloth and that with crown, he looked like a picture of Jesus I had seen in a church… he was Jesus, hanging there on the cross he was Jesus. The last was a shot of the ground. Blood had pooled on the hard pavement, and a spear lay there, a metal tip on a shovel handle. Next to it lay a chipped and worn wooden cup, one filled with dried blood. There was a handwritten note in that file. It said that the spear handle was 2.3 years old where as the spearhead was 2003 years old, and the cup was 2015 years old but the blood in the cups was only 1999 years old. Now I know my bible as well as anyone raised as a good catholic. The spear of destiny pieced Jesus’s side, and the Holy Grail caught his blood. Now nearly 2000 years later, my friend was crucified, and a spear a little over 2000 years old had pieced his side. Jesus’s blood had been caught in a cup no, The Cup, a cup about 2000 years old which had also caught my friends blood. There he hung on the cross and he was there my blood brother, Jimmy. We had made jokes about Jesus. Now, here he was being crucified now he was Jesus, he was the reincarnation of the greatest of all con-men. For when you come down to it, there is no scientific proof that the Judo-Christian God is real. Therefor there can not logically be a Son of God, so if this Jesus fellow excited he was the greatest con man of all time. Jesus the great con-men. Anyone can turn wine into water, just add powdered wine, the walking on water thing is a good one I personally would like to know how he pulled that pone, now the curing the sick . . . that’s the oldest trick in the book just cure your "sick" friend. My best friend Jimmy was on a cross, they call him St. Jimmy now, the cops called it a murder and mutilation, his parents called it a horrible and vile deed, and I said it was what had been done. And now I sit here in a prison . . .

~THE END~

Insanity

"Hello . . . Hello . . . "

The words echoed in my head. It seemed to take forever, but finally I managed to open my eyes. Finally the world was reveled to me, there was my cell . . . and in the corner huddled among a mound of rags crouched a short old man. I could hear the sound of rats scurrying about the cell, the pulse echoed in my ears.

"About time you came to . . . I thought they had killed you . . . I couldn’t find your pulse and your breathing was too shallow for me to hear, so I didn’t know if you were alive . . . trust them to throw a dead man in here with the living . . ."

It was the old man speaking. He moved awkwardly from one leg to the other, always running his hand through his greasy hair.

I tried to speak but couldn’t. My throat burned, and my breath came in short, wheezing gasps.

"Here drink this . . ."

The old man had produced a old glass bottle from his "clothes". Now it looked like it held blood, but I took it anyway. When they get you and torture you for as long as they did to me, you take whatever you can find; blood was a welcomed relief from their "food". I drank from the bottle, just a small sip, just to wet my throat. The rich warmth of life was intoxicating and I drank the entire bottle. It was a like a glimpse of heaven . . . or hell, depending on your point of view. It’s all a matter of point of view. The blood seemed to heal my throat. I tried talking.

"Th . . . thanks." It was all I could manage.

"You’re welcome; it’s better then what they fucking feed us. You’ll need it if you plan on living; don’t know why you would not in this God-forsaken place. It doesn’t matter if you’re like me. Now you can resist their torture . . . for a time".

I knew what he meant. No one could tolerate as much as we had. I don’t know how we did it. Some would say it was with the help of God . . . if there is a God he did not care what happened in this place. No one could survive forever. Not with the cutting us open, the operations, the chair, the burns, the shots, their "help sessions," the pain. No one could tolerate that, no it was a matter of time. All their torture, all their experiments, they change your body, your mind. They take your soul and there is nothing to do about it.

The cell door opened and two guards walked in and garbed me by the arms, they marched me out. Outside waited a "doctor." To hell with their oath, it might as well be the hypocrite oath. He gives me a shot in the arm. The world blurred . . . long, clean, hallways white tiles, like, a hospital . . . a hospital in hell, cold metal . . . rubbing alcohol . . . needles . . . sharp metal blades . . . blood . . .

"Hold in there . . . "

The words were long and drawn out. They echoed in my head . . . the darkness . . . healing . . . beautiful . . . darkness . . . all alone . . . no one here . . . there all gone . . . the man in the rags, where is he? . . . sleep . . . the darkness grew thick.

The dreams, oh God, the dreams, I dreamed of a hallway made from skulls and bones. I crawled along. My flesh was cut open by the sharp bones. The walls bled blood. The blood rose, drowning me . . . I found myself in a barn. I was trying to hide. I ran I found the door it is locked . . . a hay pile. I dove in, only to be dragged out by a man in a white suit. He held me still then ripped me apart. I woke up to find my mouth and nose sewn shut . . . blood oozed from my fingernails.

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up, all alone all by myself, with only the darkness . . .

"You’re not all by yourself. I am here . . ."

"What? Who said that? Were are you/ How are you . . .?"

"I am here in your head . . . I am St. Jimmy . . . remember . . . "

"What? Who? What?"

"Remember . . . ‘My name is Officer Fernandez. Mind if I ask you some questions about your friend Jimmy?"

"What . . .?"

"It’s your past . . . I am the reason . . . now you different. You’re a child of night, a dark one, whatever you want to call yourself . . . I was the first . . . "

"No … no . . . I am all by myself. There is no one here . . ."

"I am here. I am you and you are me and we are one. There are others like you. We must find them, all of them . . . "

"What . . . no . . . NO!"

The door opened. A guard came in . . . he picked me up . . . I tried to fight, but I was too weak . . .

Fine, fine, just get me out of here . . .

People always say. "Oh I just lost control." Well they are all wrong. No they had control; they just did not control them selves. I lost control, they took over, and when I came back to myself, one of the guards was dead and there was blood on my hands. I did the only logical thing. I drank. One of the guards was not dead, but after I drank his blood he was. I drank from the living and the dead, I drank the blood I embraced my inner beast. I became what I was all along, what they had made me . . . now I was a vampire. I don’t remember the bit . . . maybe I am the first . . . maybe it was there torture. Their blood gave me new strength. And I ran right out of that government prisons their secret labs, I ran right out, into the darkness of night. Now I wander the road of life with only the voices to guide down its long and twisting path in front of me . . .

~THE END~

Nirvana

The closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes. Welcome to the world… it’s not a nice place. I would know I am a wander I went to collage it was a fucking blast . . . no really it was you know tons of work I was a "goody two shoes" so there were no party’s drugs sex and or rock and roll. Then came that fateful night (what a fucking over used sentence oh well it’s true) so anyway I was walking back from a friend’s dorm. I had to walk through town so I took a short cut, through the "bad" part of town . . . (always happens this way don’t it.) I was confident. I was a black belt in Karate I could handle anything . . . well almost. I don’t remember much . . . but from what I learned there was some sort of freak, pervert what ever. This guy was staking me or something so when he got the chance he clubbed my over the head, and started to drink my blood but barely got to drink any, cause the cops showed up to deal with a party gone wild near by. So that when I came to I was in police custody, they said I was part of this party gone wild. They didn’t believe I was bitten . . . I didn’t then my memory from earlier that night was fuzzy, yet I remember being bitten as clear as day. Yet the fucking pigs found no marks on my neck. Odd I thought well let me tell you that is not all that was odd, no it wasn’t not at all. When I first heard the voices in my head it was about a week later I was studying for a big test. It was late around 2 am, I heard the door slam as my room mate left for cigarettes, as long as no one smoked in my room I was happy. Then I heard a voice, like this guy that would hang out with my roommate . . .

"Hey there, "

I looked around, trying to figure out were the voice came from. It took me a moment to figure out that no one was there, I tried to rationalize it, maybe had said it in the hall, maybe someone TV was on to load . . . then I heard the voice again . . .

"Hello, any one there . . . of Crosse you are I came feel you . . . "

"What how is there?" fear crept into my voice.

"Just me your friendly neighborhood voice in your head ahahahaha" the laugh sounded fake and forced, yet there was a hidden "evilness" to it.

"What, are you on of Alex friends" (Alex was my roommate at the time, interesting how Alex can be a guy or girls name.)

"Nope, you ever hear of St. Jimmy"

"Um, no if your there then I am crazy and if not then I am dreaming . . . so ether way it doesn’t really matter dose it . . ."

"Well we are all dreaming in away . . . so you’re right it dose not matter"

"Oh um, Ok no I have never heard of St. Jimmy . . . why should I have?"

"I am St. Jimmy, I was crucified by my best friend and they all started calling me St. Jimmy odd, don’t you think."

"Hmm, that’s horrible oh God is there anything I can do for you, why would some one ever do something like that?"

"People do it all the time, every one hate something, you just let that grow and presto, you have a dead body on your hands. Now why would my best friend crucify me well that’s a good question . . . let’s just say he was actually is crazy . . . you met him in an ally about a week ago.

"Oh God really" at this point I was getting freaked out, not to mention interested, a powerful combination sort of like gasoline and a lit match.

"Yes, I wouldn’t lie . . . "

"Ok so um … why are you here"

"Well you see, since my ‘friend’ didn’t kill you your still alive, interesting it never happened before they all died if we didn’t kill them ahahahaha, your strong like him"

"So um I am a live but why are you in my head?"

"Oh that . . . um well I guess you caught what every mental hmm… unbalance he had."

"Oh God is there a cure . . . every thing can be cured right?"

"Not if you don’t want to be cured, and you won’t ahahaha trust me"

I don’t remember anymore. I woke wandering the streets . . . covered in blood, I had killed someone, and drunk there blood, and so I reached a better understanding of the would . . . Nirvana. He was right, I had reached Nirvana. Nirvana was right. I wanted it. I loved it. The voices in my head. I love Nirvana

~THE END~

Mutilation

I opened the drawer. Before me laid out on a steel tray was a gold mine, a complete set of surgical tools. And there were two trays there. I turned around and on the operating table lay a doctor. I had strapped him in good and tight. I set one of the trays down on a cart. I left the other one in the drawer, for now . . . I waited for the doctor to wake up, no need to rush. We would be all by ourselves for a long time.

He finally came to. That’s when the fun started.

"Wh-What the hell am I doing here?" Asked the doctor

"Oh, I have no clue. You paid a visit, wrong place right time ahahaha"

"Oh, good God. What are you going to do to me?" The doctor again.

"Only what you doctors did to me, from the we will have to see we might be having to much fun . . . "

"Oh, god help me" The doctor again he was really getting annoying.

"No God just you and me."

With that I picked up a scalpel.

"You like playing doctor. Of course you do you’re a doctor lol."

"God no . . . please no. I’ll do anything!" The doctor again, I just wanted him to shut up he’s so fucking annoying why can’t they just expect there fate, so much wining about there "God" and they still don’t understand fate.

"Ok . . . shut the hell up!"

I placed the scalpel on his bare chest . . .

"Let’s see . . . "

"Oh God who art in heaven . . ." The Fucking Doctor why can’t he just except it and fucking die!

I slapped him hard, then placed my scalpel on his chest . . . I pressed down and blood welled up. I cut away a portion of his flesh just above his intestines.

"So, doc, any tips on a intestinal operation? No response you’re in shock, fuck, well, I brought along meds just for that."

I gave him the shot. He stirred . . .

"You aren’t getting out that easily."

I gagged him. I hate it when they scream< it’s so distracting. I returned to my work. I cut away his fat and muscle. I dabbed at the blood with a cloth I kept in a gallon bucket of water.

"You all right?"

I ripped the gage out of his mouth.

"Oh God, what the hell are you doing?" The bloody doctor again why can’t he just get over it?

"Only what you did to me!"

I shoved the gag back into his mouth. And once again returned to my work, I started humming to my self.

"Hey mind if I put on some music? No? Ok, how about some nice calming classical music? Sound good?"

I popped a CD into the CD player in the corner. Classical music filled the room.

"Ah much better, no back to the problem at hand, I am afraid your intestinal cancer spread a little to fast we’ll just take them out, ok?"

"Mhh MMhhh" The doctor again . . . what’s that line . . . oh yeah "With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels"

"Ok, fine I’ll ask the doc . . . Oh, looks like he’s out, so we’ll just do it. Our little secret. Ok? Good.’"

I pulled the surgical gloves up higher. I reached in, I groped around for a moment then found what I sought. His intestines, no need to be unprofessional, I cut them neatly tying one side with a surgical tie.

"This is my favorite part. Let’s wait for the music to catch up, I like to do this at the end."

The end came, and I gave a mighty tug. There was a soft ripping sound followed by a gargle as fluids were released from his stomach.

"Oh shit! That isn’t good. Oh well, we’ll just have to go in and suck it out. You’ll be better soon, I promise . . . "

I plugged in the shopvac. Always a good thing to carry. I shoved the nozzle in to his open gut. There was a sucking sound as the contents of his stomach were removed from his gut, along with some blood and tissue.

"You feeling all right?"

"Mhmmhh" Then again it was a rag not a gun but details details.

"No? Maybe I should operate on your arm. Yeah that must be the source of your pain."

I reached for the scalpel again, but this time I made a slit on the inner side and on the top of his upper right arm. I reached in and used a smaller scalpel I made several incisions. I sucked the blood up with the shopvac. Then I went to work. I cut off the remaining flesh on his upper arm.

"Looks like the muscle is inflamed, so we’ll have to remove it ok? Trust me, well actually never trust a man who just said trust me but it doesn’t look like you have a choice."

There was no response he must have passed out, to bad. I reached for the large scalpel and used it to cut out his mussels. I then gave him another shoot of stimulant, no need for him to miss all the fun.

"Hello there sleeping beauty"

"Mhhh" Why cant the fucking doctor be more articulate he went to school for an extra four years, you would hope he learned something.

"That all? Hmm, must be something wrong with your vocal cords."

I love removing their vocal cords. They’re so . . . vocal about it ahahahahahaha. I slit open his throat, located his vocal cords, and gave them each a tug. They came out nice and clean, a lot of blood some fluids and stomach acid but other wise nice and clean.

"Ok, let’s get you sewn back up. What you say? Oh dumb me, you won’t be talking much. Sorry I forgot."

I reached for a needle and thread. I sewed up his throat.

"For your gut I am going to need staples. Or maybe I will use your shirt. Yeah . . . that’s it. I’ll stuff the hole with your shirt then sew it on. That’s a new one."

I stuffed his shirt in the hole, but it just wasn’t quite big enough, so I used cut out parts of his pants to hold it in place.

"Hmm, I think you need to have a scalp operation."

I slowly cut the skin around the top of his head. I pulled it off and set it aside. I stapled the rest of his pants onto his head, I had to do a little trimming but not too much.

"Damn you’re looking good. No more haircuts for you . . . ahahahaha, how about I open your ears we all need better hearing . . . Sounds good to you? Ok, let’s do it."

I picked up the bone saw, and placed it behind his ear. I started to saw. His ear came off quickly.

"Nice look I like it. You want some bolts in your head like Frankenstein? Ok"

I took some bolts from the operating table just two. Tacking the bone drill, I drilled two small holes into his skull near his temple and then pushed the bolts in. I used super glue, another useful thing to care around to secure them there.

"How about some Fredy blades? Ok I would love to."

I cut open his fingers and cut the tips of the bones with the bone saw. Then I inserted the blades in to the cuts. I used a soldering iron to fasten them in place.

"Looking good. Hey I need a smoke you want one? Well first I’ll disable this smoke detractor . . . there we go, now how about a nice smoke for old time’s sake. "

I placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

I took a puff off of mine. I looked down at him, he had let his cigarette fall out of his mouth.

"Oh what a pity oh well your louse not mine"

I finished mine, then got back to the job at hand.

"Well it’s been a pleasure, hope to see you soon, but I really got to go sorry, oh here be for I go I’ll put you on this IV drip it’s blood laced with morphine and my blood . . . so when you wake up you’ll be just a crazy as me ahahahaha, see you soon. Oh and there are some meds in here to make you sleep so that the other meds will help you heal it’s been a ball but as I said I got to go fair thee well, till we meet again."

I gave him two last shoots hooked him up to the IV and left the room. One day he would thank me . . . one day this would all be over . . . one day . . .

-THE END-

Depression and Suicide

The darkness, the light. Life death it’s all so . . . fake. I drink blood to live, once I had a good life, now . . . I am lost . . . lost adrift in a sea of darkness. My life isn’t going anywhere St. Jimmy, the voices my friends they all left me. I am lost his guidance helped me understand the world. Understand my self . . . this probably sounds like some cheesy suicide letter but I was and am not responsible for the deaths of those individuals . . .you know whom I am talking about. I simply needed food; you must understand . . . all things have their place everything is food; for something else, this is the basic principle of life. Without the voices I can’t find my way. They took me off the street, saying it was for my own good that they forced me in to a cell, they shot me up with meds. Now I can’t hear him . . . St. Jimmy, they are wrong I am to strong for them but now I am lost. Lost with no way of finding home. My only hope is to slit my wrists and let the blood flow let the blood that is so precious to me flow away flow down my arms and out in to the world. Maybe I’ll hang my self and see the world through one last time. Only this time my prospective will be slanted, or I might take a nice dive headfirst. Maybe I’ll blow my brains out across a wall, I’ll swallow pills until I join St. Jimmy all I want is to have his voice back. I want the fresh blood and carnage, the rich warmth of fresh blood. This world is dead. This world that has rejected me.

The door to my cell opens and in steps a young doctor. They think they know everything, they’re so wrong. They know nothing about me, about who or what I am. I am insane and yet sane, living yet dead. I died the night I was bittern. I am dead on the inside. I feel no compassion, no love except that of blood and death no emotions only depression. The doctor stands there acting all knowledgeable. He looks at his clipboard, he nodes, but he’s got no clue what the test results mean. None of them know, the tests say I am dead, or living, it depends, and so he asks;

"So how are you?" The doctor.

"You can’t figure it out .I just want to be free, free that’s all"

"We’re just helping you, you know that, right?" No actually mister doc you’re wrong all wrong.

"Just as the Romans helped your Jesus? Yeah I know you have no clue what’s wrong with me and yet you hold me here trying to figure it all out. That about right?"

"No, we’re just trying to help you become a functioning member of society." The doctor again he’s lying like always.

"Right. What ever."

I saw my way out my golden ticket… he had a box cutter on his belt, he had forgotten the no sharp object rule.

"You forgot something."

"Wha . . ." I quickly cut him off . . .

I leap at him knocking him down. I couldn’t help myself, I bite in to his neck. His skin breaks and rich warm blood rushed up. I drink till he is empty. I take the box cutter I slit my wrists, the blood rushing out, the blood of countless victims that which I treasured so much spread across the floor and in my last dyeing breath I see his face . . . rising out of my blood just like the phoenix.

~THE END~

Fire