How My Beautiful Garden Grows by michaelcahill
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Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content. 
I Garden, Write & KILL!
It’s all in this little journal. Seventy-three brutal deaths and counting. The number will grow until I’m caught. Of course, not going to happen.
January, 19th, 1985
My Birthday. A surprise party! For Brenda Wilson. What fifteen years and four sniveling bratty kids will do to a body. WHEW! Gravity has grabbed a hold of them perfect C-cup breasts and turned them into some kind of human paddle game. Well, nothing to say there Brenda? Cat got your tongue? Oh … no, I guess I do. Say “No” now, bitch. I’m not so sure I even want to make love to you really. “YOU AREN’T LOOKING GOOD, Brenda.” Long story short, she was pretty tight and not bad in the hay. C-sections, you see. I planted sunflowers over her in the garden. A nice touch. January 21st, 1985
Stupid bitch. Just leave your kid alone in the park? She’ll be pushin’ up daisies now … literally. Not the poor kids fault really, kinda cute. But I’m not taking care of no damn kid. January 23rd, 1985
This is going to last a while. Damn she’s hot. I haven’t checked her fake I.D., but her ass is riding pretty high. She can’t be over sixteen if she’s a day. Wanted to hang in the bar with adults. The adult games are about to get under way. I’ll leave this open. This is going to take lots of ink ….
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Copyright 2024.
michaelcahill
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