The Withering Psyche Of A Madman

The Madman's Stories

She has been strapped well and tight that her body could no longer sway from her fits of rage whenever she looks at me.

It had only been a day since I snatched her away from her cozy place thanks to her being too careless to secure the locks.

She was young. She looks decent and well groomed and still I can't imagine why she had kept good-looking despite of her earlier struggles back when we first met.

She was neat against the old grimy rack that she was strapped on by wrists and ankles.
It was such delicate beauty that I want to inspect every tiny detail; The complexion of the skin, would it still look radiant if I was to peel it gently from her body?
What does the muscular build that contours her look like if the skin did not conceal it?
Did she took much calcium enough as I dug deep into the marrows of the bones?
Would the blood be as red as a well grown rose? will it flow viscously? would it taste bitter or sour? I don't know.

I too want to see if her brain was that large enough to be her so keen on thinking of survival strategies as she managed to struggle with me.

But woe. It is as I had realized that I had to keep her senses intact.
I won't like her to be numb. I want her to feel the tickling sensation of all the categories of pain that even the Marquis de Sade couldn't even tolerate!

These were all my query. but it don't end to just that.

You may all call me mad. But in my sense, I am more than a genius. I knew deeply the outline of a human being as if it there was an entire encyclopedia and complex blueprints etched within the chambers of my cerebrum.
I knew every nook and cranny of the human mind, the philosophies, the logics that lie therein and the urges of the spirit.

It may all deem nonsense to those who don't understand my plight, for those do ask are not among the living by this time.

A few minutes had passed by and the spirit of the tranquilizers had worn off from her nerves. Again I witnessed her deep green pupils as she gazed upon me. She was weak now. She won't struggle anymore.
I have already dislocated her knees and her elbows. If she moved a little, spine tingling pain would gush throughout her body. And that pain was not yet a part of the torture that I would bring to this fair helpless damsel.

I want to know what will she feel as I dug into her skin; would she gnash her teeth or would she scream as I cut her piece by piece, layer by layer; as I separate every fibers of her muscles?

One way to find out.

As I began unwrapping my tools of pure stainless steel, She opened her fair shaped lips. At first I thought that she would scream. But it was the other way:

She smiled at me-----and I gazed upon that pretty smile; a smile that could pierce the softest heart.

She greeted me and I was glad.
Though in the brink of endless plain, she managed to pull off a sense of joy.

She stated that she knew that she was about to die and She demanded one last thing before it would happen.
She demanded that I tell her a story.
An hour long story.

She was an entertaining soul. Apart from the others that I had before, she was one of a kind.

I got a lot of time this day. And I got a lot of stories. And since she had made me glad, I will tell her all of it in that span of time. 

I agreed to her kind offer and so I began.