text: >**[QUICK NOTE ALSO WARNING]** I already posted a little bit of this and I've since updated it with quite a bit more. I wasn't totally motivated to keep writing but I've since gotten a job and any second I have free I write. Now for the **[WARNING]** bit, this story is a graphic first person telling of a child killer; he's based off of Albert Fish so he does eat them. Lastly this is an ongoing project, all criticism or advice is greatly appreciated. A stone cell Each stone in the wall had more age and life than I could comprehend, my fingers play upon the cracks careful not to break the aged lines. My hands find themselves tired searching every message these rocks have to give, nails run raggad clicking in rythem to the music preserved to each crack, like each note to a score. My wrists hurt from the shackles bound to them, their embrace neither tight nore loose. The pressense enough to remove any will to break the binds, or even to perppetuate an imagination capable of the thought to escape. The air so thick from a rippled blanket of decay, my nose burnt by the remains of those I once considered brothers. No family behind these walls, no blood between those too weak to shed it. To say that a life without these walls isn't but a distant memory is a mockery of what I've suffered here. Every second of my life prior to its cage blazes past my eyes in patterns so inense that I've lost the sight for anything else. My memories of the is world as I now know it are by no means a life to live, regardless of how long my stay is to be, I was dead long before my last breathe. My mind still in its endless walts at intances takes certain pauses, eyes of miasmic storms just large enough to allow awarness. During these opressive voids, I torment myself with the beckoning of questions. As my body turns to dust, I always have the same inquarie, forever wondering why had this not happened sooner? Had my life been ended early, the temptation of a return would be weaker, the husk left behind stronger enough to face its abysmal excistance. Mercy be it too sacred of word to pass these pale lips, I have known my deeds as foul from their conception to their sin soaked execution. The eyes of my victims forever surround my walls, pealing away at the unstable sanity that had been clung to with a feveroris grip. As I would ask the same given the placement of your eyes, I wasn't born into confinement nor was I placed by a careless agent of justice; I defined the layer of hell that holds me. Innocence was the target of my wrath, I could not say it was taken as I didn't leave a single drop to exist. The year of our lord where I resided, I walked among the alleys, and the sewage that fell upon them; a voyeur to society and its civilized inhabitants. Give it not the size, one could not see difference between my brethren and the bloated rats that plagued the streets. Do not attempt sympathy, or consider my bedfellows the reason to this corrupted path I limp through. Given the choice between lands of furnishing or moist decay, I'd always take the latter; more freedom to be true to my manners. Secondly a demon be it dressed in rags or lace is still a forked tongue devil, as I've seen my same wrong doings in the eyes of others. We all have our vices, as we all worry to what ends we'll be drowned by them; my personal brand was the hands of the young and unwilling. While my mind never had been upon other thoughts, I was only spellbound via eclipsed moments where the thought of not would sear until I had begun. At this point I was taken, my body moonlit to another, a beast of sin and flesh. While I knew the crime being committed, I was never ostrisised by the lingering eyes, only by the broken symphony in my head. It was not until my hands fell upon royal blood did a whisper of my existence fall among the civilized. Yet the sin itself felt no worse than anything I had done thus far. Her cries no more refined, her tears no less salty, and her blood showed no sign of any more imperfection compared to even my own. Her flesh bore little resistance to teeth, as is the same for the rest. Once I awoke from my lustful haze, I began the process to hide my shame while also immortalizing it all. There was a shelf in an abandoned shack of which I considered my abode, on said shelf were little trinkets set in neat little rows. The only vanity I held was for these treasures, each one from each potential full life lived who crossed my gaze. My favorite was a set of pearls as I had taken a foster role for a time with this child, they enjoyed walking the shores and these pearls were a present from them. My method of disposal is simplistic while just as vile as the first act, as we humans have the same savory taste of pork, the trick is merely to complete the illusion. The easiest method is to have the remains submerged in scolding water until even the bones are the consistency of soup, as for the head however there a problem arises. My method of habit is to sever the cheeks, nose, and ears as they are still succulent; with the rest I make a contribution to the gullets of the wild including their clothes. Children were always told to stay away from the forest, such tales humane compared to my own sins. After the clean up for this child, with body set to roast I took to her clothing, the nobility was off putting however I couldn't see how countless youth being taken prior would have any less ramifications. That's when my gaze focused on the crest upon the late child's locket, while I knew nothing regarding politics of this country, I was very aware I was staring at the crest of the king. I sat ever so still, in naive hopes that may also soon pass. Night was still defended, but it didn't matter anymore, the child of royalty was dead and my hands more so than ever were stained. I knew I had to attempt something, so after hours petrified in fear I ran to the forest with the child's clothes and partial remains. The forrest reserved no strength against me, the long reaching arms of the trees tearing away at me, the howling faces in their knotted bark. Voices of the vacant were nothing new to me, however nothing of this intensity. "He's here!" "Burn the demon!" "Kill him, rip him limb from limb!" The voices fell to whispers and quieter still as I reached my planned resting grounds. I marked these grounds by a rusted spade set to a rotted stump, while I never used it to turn soil as the point was to give the illusion of the corpse being taken by wolves. After hours of toiling finding a suitable place for the remains, I came upon uplifted roots that had been shaped in such a manner to only allow access to that of a child. I placed her face down into the roots, and shredded her clothing haphazardly from there. As the last bit of cloth was placed I filled my lungs for what felt as new a experience, my flesh constricted from the night's in forgiving chill, never have my hands felt so unclean, my mind with such unrest. As my heart began to slow I heard a voice, to my dismay it was not of my own corrupted design. "Damn fucking snakes, get away from me!" To what ends will I be tested this day I thought, no one of sound mind traverses these woods, so this voice was not of an innocent man. Regardless of their transgressions I had to act as I did not want her to be found premature. I took towards the voice careful not to be revealed, as I crept closer still the voice still proclaimed on about the serpents. I was finally able to lay sight on the figure, he stood seven heads tall, dressed in fatigues of a royal guard. I sat still for moment to calculate my next action, as were it to be too rash I'd find my head on the chopping block. On one hand I've committed no wrong doings to his knowledge, however I parish the thought as no innocent men traverses these woods, unless hunting the wicked. I know what needed to be done to rid myself of this trial, I turned back to the resting grounds as I required a tool to complete the task.