Skip to main content

Voices


For around a couple years now, I’ve heard voices. They’re usually more active at night, and they sound like someone’s watching TV in a room right next to me.

Usually I hear them the way I hear my thoughts and so I know no one else can hear them. They’ll say they want to kill me, and be extremely graphic about it, and they’ll put images of my corpse into my head so I look at pictures of little animals to cheer myself up.

I’ve always been interested in psychology and how minds work since serious mental problems run in my family. Around 9 months ago, I became fascinated with what made people killers, why they wanted to kill, how they chose their victims, and what their victim’s corpses looked like. The pictures of corpses actually calmed me down.

I started watching more and more crime shows and pausing the television when they’d show the corpse in the crime scene to make sure I could remember it. The different stages of decomposition and how different methods changed the bodies and how many things were used as weapons absolutely fascinated me.

I stopped being as absorbed in serial killers, spree killers, and school shooters after 3 months, but I still pictured gore.

I always separated myself from the people who actually acted on their thoughts since they started with animals but I’d never hurt one aside from self defense so I figured I’d never completely snap and hurt people.

The last 4 months I kept hearing “there’s too many” with no context so I brushed it off. Last night I heard “There’s too many dogs. Kill them”.  I don’t know what to do to make the thoughts stop. I’m so scared.

—-
This was based on a personal experience of a user who requested to remain anonymous. Due to the content and nature of this story, they wanted to emphasize that this is a slightly fictionalize version of past experiences, and they are not a threat to themself or anyone else.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Wish Come True (A Short Story)

I woke up with a start when I found myself in a very unfamiliar place. The bed I was lying on was grand—an English-quilting blanket and 2 soft pillows with flowery laces. The whole place was fit for a king! Suddenly the door opened and there stood my dream prince: Katsuya Kimura! I gasped in astonishment for he was actually a cartoon character. I did not know that he really exist. “Wake up, dear,” he said and pulled off the blanket and handed it to a woman who looked like the maid. “You will be late for work.” “Work?” I asked. “Yes! Work! Have you forgotten your own comic workhouse, baby dear?” Comic workhouse?! I…I have became a cartoonist? That was my wildest dreams! Being a cartoonist! I undressed and changed into my beige T-shirt and black trousers at once and hurriedly finished my breakfast. Katsuya drove me to the workhouse. My, my, was it big! I’ve never seen a bigger place than this! Katsuya kissed me and said, “See you at four, OK, baby?” I blushed scarlet. I always wan

Hans and Hilda

Once upon a time there was an old miller who had two children who were twins. The boy-twin was named Hans, and he was very greedy. The girl-twin was named Hilda, and she was very lazy. Hans and Hilda had no mother, because she died whilst giving birth to their third sibling, named Engel, who had been sent away to live wtih the gypsies. Hans and Hilda were never allowed out of the mill, even when the miller went away to the market. One day, Hans was especially greedy and Hilda was especially lazy, and the old miller wept with anger as he locked them in the cellar, to teach them to be good. "Let us try to escape and live with the gypsies," said Hans, and Hilda agreed. While they were looking for a way out, a Big Brown Rat came out from behind the log pile. "I will help you escape and show you the way to the gypsies' campl," said the Big Brown Rat, "if you bring me all your father's grain." So Hans and Hilda waited until their father let them out,

I Was A Lab Assistant of Sorts (Part 3)

Hey everyone. I know it's been a minute, but I figured I would bring you up to speed on everything that happened. So, needless to say, I got out, but the story of how it happened was wild. So there we were, me and the little potato dude, just waiting for the security dude to call us back when the little guy got chatty again. “Do you think he can get us out?” he asked, not seeming sure. “I mean, if anyone can get us out it would be him, right?” “What do you base this on?” I had to think about that for a minute before answering, “Well, he's security. It's their job to protect people, right? If anyone should be able to get us out, it should be them.” It was the little dude's turn to think, something he did by slowly breathing in and out as his body puffed up and then shrank again. “I will have to trust in your experience on this matter. The only thing I know about security is that they give people tickets