Before starting my journey as a horror writer, I did work for several video game and comic book companies as a character and concept artist. Currently, I'm an aspiring horror writer hoping to break into the industry through what opportunity I may find. My writing credits are mostly that of published work in the music and comics industry as well as two self-published books so far, "Hellverse: Shadows of the Abyss" and "Hellverse: Bloodlines of Kaos." Whereas most authors these days cater more to modern audiences, my goal is to rekindle the poetic violence and debauchery of classic literature. I prefer a story to build to something instead of giving everything right from the start.
You can read more by Sean right HERE.
VIRAL
by
Sean Walusko
“Please stop,” begged the man in front of me.
He was a wannabe thug in his early twenties that acted tougher than he looked. I had his sister zip tie his hands, and feet before cuffing her to the bed. I didn’t want her or the little one to see what I was about to do.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was wrong. I was taught women are just…please, I beg of you. Have mercy. Please…” he kept rambling and crying.
His parents were the first I came across. They got it easy. Bullet to the head each. No explanation, just swift, calculated action. The sister and brother had no part in this. I still wonder if letting them live was the right choice. He, however, wasn’t going to get the easy way out. I needed to think, and his incessant apologies were beginning to piss me off.
Aluminum bat. Lightweight, balanced, and packs a hell of a punch.
“Mister please I…” his words were ended the instant I smashed the bat into his face. CRACK! A chunk of his bottom lip tore off as it was caught between the strike of metal and the breaking of all his front teeth. When I pulled the bat away, he spit up gobs of blood, lip, teeth and tongue. He looked ridiculous, wailing with only gums and a crushed mandible. I gave him one more rage-filled crack across the chin, breaking his fucking jaw. His screaming brought me comfort.
“Did you know my wife and I got married today? Three years ago, to be exact. She wanted a big Valentine’s day wedding. Man, she was beautiful. I still remember the first time I saw her. Red curls falling to her shoulders, those cute freckles on her nose, her bright green eyes and those lips. God those lips.”
I looked back at the table behind me. I had knives, a handsaw, a power drill, twine, zip ties, and a camera filming the entire thing.
“And then you cornered her in an alley, dragged her in your car and raped her while your friends laughed and took turns. We went to therapy for a while. It worked at first, but…” I paused. “The thought of you all still being free just…it just ate away at her. She was always afraid. I couldn’t touch her. You destroyed her life. You destroyed all our lives, and you only got six months. Six fucking months.”
Power drill.
“She chose pills. A hand full of fucking pills. So here we are.”
He gurgled up something incoherent, almost like belated pleading. I pressed my hand over his left hand and used a quarter-inch bit to drill directly into his index finger, under the nail, through his first and second knuckle until I felt a quick snap and the finger began to twist clockwise. I repeated this nine more times until all of his fingers hung like raw meat in an open market.
“I bet you’re sorry now, aren’t you?” I asked him, almost sarcastically.
The livestream was growing in number by the second. After only two minutes, I had over twenty-five thousand people watching, commenting on what I should do next. Some of the things they wanted me to do were sicker than anything I could come up with. One even suggested I make him fuck his father’s corpse in the ass. I almost considered it but thought he might actually like it. No. I relegated this session to justice only. I didn’t want things to get weird. ‘Cut his dick off,’ was the most common thing people typed. Couldn’t say I disagreed. Let’s give the people what they want.
As I reached for a pair of razor-sharp sheers, I heard a knock at the door. I walked off-camera to see who it was. There was a cop standing there, looking anxious as he kept checking his watch. His partner was parked behind him, still sitting in her squad car. I answered it, face fully covered in a cheap mask from a Halloween store, my clothes bloody and those huge scissors still in my hands.
“You need to wrap this up. I can only reroute dispatch for so long before they send someone out,” he said.
“Got it,” I answered.
“Ten minutes.”
“Yeah, I got it. What about his friends?”
“We have their addresses. Ten minutes. Understand?”
I nodded, closing the door as he walked back to his car. Behind me, still struggling to break free, was the man who made me into a monster. As hard as I tried to feel some sort of remorse, or mercy, I couldn’t. Not after what he’d done.
Six months.
All he got was six months. I let that linger in my head as I pulled his pants down and exposed his shriveled dick. One tight pull and I pressed the scissors across the base of his shaft, slicing through. He yelled with each forceful, bladed push. A few hard squeezes and his penis snapped off, severed at the base, leaving his crotch a gored mess. Blood and urine poured out as he screamed.
“It’s time we do what the law won’t. Happy Valentine’s day,” I said to the camera while still holding his mangled penis.
I used the sheers to cut across his cheeks in order to force his mouth open. Once the skin ripped away and his jaw hung flaccid, I shoved his cock down his throat and left him to choke on it.
There was no use sticking around.
With my work done, I gathered my things and met my friends outside. I left the camera on to let my viewers watch until he bled out. As we drove away, all I could do was hope that my act would go viral and inspire others. I was just getting started.