The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore

by Garrett, Wade H.

  I slapped him across the face as tears ran down his cheek from his good eye. “Tomorrow is only going to get worse, especially if I’ve missed Leno’s monolog.” I could hear him crying clear across the chamber as I walked out for the night.

  The next morning Larry was in extreme misery and he had thrown up all over the table top. His face, mouth, and back were very swollen, and his skin had turned a darker shade of black and blue from all the bruising. The wire around his wrists had cut deep into his flesh—it looked like he had fought at them all night. Surprisingly he still had a little pep in him. He tried to speak, but I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say, but whatever it was I’m sure it was rude. Over the next few minutes I stood silently as he tried to speak. He was desperately trying to tell me something, and finally he was able to mumble something about his nuts and legs. I could tell he was in agony and really wanted me to know something. By now the concrete was most likely burning his lower body. This would be very painful; same as if acid was eating away your skin. He kept on and on about his nuts burning, so I leaned down and made eye contact. “You’re not going to need your balls anymore, pal... But if you really want me to make it where you don’t notice the pain as much, just ask.”

  Without hesitating he mumbled, “Oh yes, please.”

  To grant his wish I walked to the opposite end of the table and stretched his tongue another inch or so. He quickly forgot about the pain in his lower torso as he screamed. His swollen and sore tongue was beginning to tear as I re-tied the wire. Over the next few minutes he stared in fear while I gathered tools and laid them in front of him on the table. He was being fairly calm, until I started cutting into the top of his head with a scalpel.

  “Please stop! You’re fucking killing me!” He shouted as he violently jerked around.

  “I’m not killing you. I’m just cutting a hole into your scalp.” I leaned over and looked into his eye. “Do you want me to fix it so you won’t notice the pain?” The stupid ass replied yes again, so I poured PVC glue all over his back and lit it on fire. The flames were severely burning the shit out of him and he was screaming and foaming at the mouth as he was bound to the table top. Before the flames went out, I quickly cut into his scalp.

  He cut his eye towards me and shouted in a muffled voice. “You lying son of a bitch!!!”

  I leaned down in front of him and made eye contact again. “Now, how do you figure that? Did you feel me cutting your flesh, or was it overshadowed by the horrendous amount of pain from the fire?”

  He glared at me through his one eye. “You fuc….”

  Before he could finish his comment, I ripped the two-inch square piece of hair-covered flesh from his scalp. He wanted to scream, but the nail in his mouth and his stretched tongue only allowed him to moan loudly, until I drilled a five-sixteenths hole into his skull. By this time, he was in so much agony the pain of trying to scream was less painful than the hole I had drilled into his head. Even though his screams were muffled, he continued to belt them out as I tapped the hole with a three-eighths-tap bit. When I was done with that part, I cleaned out the hole, then screwed a three-eighths eyebolt into the top of his head. He was almost unconscious from the horrific pain, so I went ahead and started installing three more eye bolts, which weren’t going to be needed and were installed just for the fun of it. He had passed out when I was screwing in the last eyebolt, so I waited a few hours for him to awake and be fully consciousness before I attempted to pull the nail out of his mouth—I didn’t want him to miss out on the fun we were going to have. When he was finally bright-eyed and bushytailed, I cut the wire to the hook so I could gain access to the nail, but instead of his tongue retracting back into his mouth, it just continued to hang out.

  “I think your tongue has been severely traumatized. I’m going to have to cut it out so I can get to the nail.”

  After that comment he started working his tongue around to pull it back into his mouth, and as it wiggled around like a slug, I poked at it with a knife. In a short period of time, he was able to get most of it back into his mouth, and when the nail finally became accessible I went after it with a claw hammer. He cried and screamed at the same time. He screamed in horror as I worked the nail around as I tried to pull it out of the wooden tabletop. I was able to straighten it out, which lifted it off his chin and lip, but I couldn’t pull it out of the table. I finally got frustrated and went and grabbed a large crow bar. Instead of trying to remove the nail, I simply shoved the bar under his chin and pulled his head off it, which tore meat and cartilage from the bottom of his mouth. Blood and saliva were gushing out of the hole as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  A few minutes later he had calmed down, so I tied a rope to one of the eyehooks in his head, then fed the rope through a pulley mounted above him on a ceiling support beam. He screamed out loudly when I pulled on the rope and stretched him upright. His body started shaking from all the pain and he looked as if he was suffocating. His body was severely bruised and swollen and the skin on his back was charred. Also, his new position added a great deal of stress and pain to his back because it had been adjusted to the original hunched over position. After I tied off the other end of the rope, I left so I could do some other things around the chamber.

  Later that evening I walked up to Larry. He was still crying, and as he looked at me with surrender in his eye, I backhanded him with a closed fist so hard I broke his jaw. When he screamed out from the pain his mouth opened cockeyed, then locked into that position. Blood began to pour out of the hole where the nail had torn through. When I examined him closer to see why, I noticed his jawbone had ruptured through his skin on the inside of his mouth. It was getting late and time to go in for the night, but I needed to stop the bleeding. He was incoherent, so I slapped him across the face to get his attention. “Hey, pal, if I don’t stop the bleeding in your mouth you’re going to bleed to death.”

  A tear ran down his cheek. “Let me die.”

  “Nope, that’s not the way it works around here.”

  He closed his eye and started mumbling to himself.

  I knew I had a couple of options; pressure or cauterizing. I decided to go with cauterizing because it was more painful.”

  Seth walked over to Dicky and stood by the bars. “Larry was one of the first scumbags I brought into the chamber. I was new to the whole torture thing back then and didn’t have the knowledge I do now.”

  Dicky leaned out a little where some light lit up his face. “Knowledge? To do what you’re doing? Savagery is more like it.”

  Seth walked off and came back rolling a very large toolbox. “You wish it was savagery. A fucking savage would let you die. This toolbox contains every piece of medical technology available to keep assholes like you alive. And if that’s not enough, I have a sterile surgical room where I can disassemble your ass and put you back together in a real fucked up way while ensuring you feel every step.”

  Dicky just glared.

  Seth grabbed the bars. “No response?

  He moved his head back into the dark.

  “Well then, let’s get back to story time.” Seth walked back over and sat on the table. “After I got Larry’s bleeding under control, I left for the night, leaving him crying in the dark.

  The next morning I was surprised again to find him alive. This guy could take some punishment, but I could tell he was to the breaking point. He had lost a lot of blood and the trauma to his body was horrifying to look at. His skin tone was almost white, which made his bruising look alien-like. During the night, he had forced the wire off his wrists, which had torn quite a bit of skin and meat off his hands. His eye pleaded for me to not hurt him anymore as I stood in front of him putting on the brass knuckles. “I will show you the same mercy that you showed your family. Do you think that’s fair?”

  He looked at me with tears in his eye as he faintly mumbled, “Please just kill me.”

  There was no un-bruised part of his body left to beat on, and I didn’t think h
is face could take any additional trauma, so I started punching him in the ribs to see how many I could break. To my surprise, he still had enough willpower left in him to block the blows with his arms. I was amazed how this guy could take such punishment and continue to fight back. He had a slight smile, kind of cocky looking, when I tossed the brass knuckles on the table.”

  Seth slid a chair over to Dicky. He sat down and propped his feet up on the bars. “Larry was real hardheaded and…”

  “I don’t care about your sick stories and don’t want to hear them.”

  Seth stood up and grabbed the bars. “You interrupt me again I will remove your tongue!”

  He looked down.

  Seth sat back down and propped his feet back up on the bars. “I knocked Larry’s cocky grin right off his face with a club. Literally. I hit the bastard so hard I shattered his jaw. His chin and the skin around it was nothing more than a sagging bag full of broken bones. It was pretty damn gross. His upper jaw and teeth stuck way out compared to his lower jaw, or bag of sagging skin I should say. He kind of resembled Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. The blow had knocked him out. So, I went and did some stuff around the chamber.

  A few hours later when I came back, I was surprised to find Larry awake. I didn’t even say anything to him as I walked up and slammed a baseball bat across his left shoulder. The sound of his clavicle bone shattering echoed in the chamber. His body immediately went into convulsions while he spewed vomit all over the place. I didn’t wait for his convulsions to stop as I went ahead and shattered his right shoulder. He passed out within seconds of that last blow. I didn’t want to wait around, so I injected him with adrenaline, and within minutes he was staring at me in horror as I stood in front of him twirling a pair of brass knuckles on my finger. “You ready for some more knuckle sandwiches?”

  He grunted.

  I put a pair on each hand. “Yeah, you’re right, pal. There’s not much left of your face.”

  He moaned loudly as I started beating every portion of his upper body, and with each blow he desperately tried to move his arms, causing the bones in his shoulders to crack and pop. During his beating, I noticed his lower body had become loose in the dried concrete and he was trying to push himself out, so I stopped and went and rounded up some things. Tears and blood were forming a pool around the bottom of the barrel as I laid the tools out on the floor. His body had become loose, most likely due to him shrinking a little from dehydration, so to make sure he couldn’t get free, I came up with a solution he probably wouldn’t like. First, I used a torch to cut a one inch hole on each side of the barrel at the height of his thighs so I could have access to the concrete. He was screaming at the top of his lungs as the heated concrete burned his legs, and as he jerked around, his movement was forcing putrid flesh smelling smoke to puff out of the gap between his body and the concrete; they kind of looked like smoke signals. He became real excited and started crying and begging as I began to drill into the side of the concrete with a hammer drill with a long bit, and as soon as the tip busted through the concrete and into the flesh of his right thigh, his body went into convulsions again. It was a gross sight as he spewed saliva out of his mouth like a rabid animal while making odd gurgling sounds, but I didn’t hesitate as I drilled straight through his leg, including the bone. When the hammer drill bottomed out I worked the bit back and forth a few times, and when I pulled it out it was covered with concrete dust, shredded muscle, bone fragments and flesh. He was breathing erratically and foaming at the mouth as I drilled the left side of the concrete the same way. I drilled through his left leg until I hit the hole that I had drilled on the other side. By this time, he was pretty much in shock, but he did feel the rebar I drove through the hole in the concrete and his legs. When the rebar had exited the opposite side, there was meat, blood and pieces of bone on the end of it. Just for kicks, I drove sixteen-penny nails spaced two inches apart all the way around the top of the drum into his hips. He had fluids flowing from all parts of his body: tears, slobber, snot, sweat and blood, creating a big mess on the floor.

  Larry just hung motionless as I looked into his teary eye. “Beat a bound man to death. You just thought you were going to get off that easy.”

  He was in so much agony, and he knew begging wouldn’t help; he simply looked away as he cried.

  For the next few days I kept him alive by making him drink blood from raw meat. I would give him a beating several times a day, and towards the end he became unrecognizable as a human due to the massive trauma to his face and body. The concrete had burned his flesh so severely that his lower torso wasn’t anything more than bloody pus covered meat. He eventually died from an infection.”

  Seth stood up and grabbed the bars. “It’s a shame he died so soon, but I found out with the other scumbags that antibiotics, steroids, blood transfusions, oxygen therapy, sterilization, resting periods and implanted heart defibrillators would prolong death for years, in some cases even decades. Larry got off a lot easier than the ones that followed him. In fact, his punishment was a picnic compared to theirs. That’s something you can look forward to.”

  Dicky started talking to himself and pacing side to side.

  “Hey! Stay with me, pal.”

  He stopped and looked at Seth in disbelief.

  “Believe it or not, the stories are going to get a lot worse.”

  He leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor, and as he sat with his knees bent upwards, he looked at Seth with sadness. “You have to tell me something… Anything.”

  Seth frowned. “I have been. I fact, I’ve been talking your ear off, pal.”

  “Not what I meant. I want to know why I’m here.”

  Seth moved his index finger side to side, indicating no. “Like I’ve said several times, all will be revealed in due time.” He walked over to a man hanging naked on a wall with a cloth sack over his head, and as he stood next to him he said, “I like to call this one the Reaper.” The man’s body was hung against the wall by rusted chains that went across his chest, under his armpits, and between his legs. His feet were secured to the floor with shackles and chains. He had an intravenous bag hanging from a rusted light fixture mounted to the wall beside him. He was covered from head to toe with scars, punctures, and gashes, and his entire body was black and blue from massive bruising. His right arm had been cut off just below the shoulder and the remaining section had been cauterized into a scarred stub. His other arm was sewn to his thigh with thick, black thread. His legs were deformed; it appeared as if he had to endure years of standing. The skin on his chest where the chain ran across it was nothing more than thick scar tissue. There was something strange under the cloth sack that was over the man’s head; it seemed to be hiding some type of deformity or contraption. The stone wall behind him was covered in dried splattered blood, and the floor and wall below him were stained with blood and feces. It appeared the man had been hanging there for a very, very long time.

  Seth walked over to an old wooden table covered with an assortment of tools and torture devices and picked up a rotted arm. He walked back over to him and started beating the man’s naked body. Dicky jumped to his feet and stared in horror as he watched Seth violently beat the man, and with each strike, the man let out a weird, zombie-like howl. The blows to his already bruised and sore body were so excruciating the man shit on himself. Seth had a look of disgust on his face as he stared at the man. “You nasty bastard! I’m going to make that your supper.” He tossed the arm back on the table and turned towards Dicky. “When the time is right, I will introduce you to that fucker and tell his story.”

  Deceiving the Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

  Dicky fell to his knees and started crying as he witnessed the beating. A few minutes later, Seth walked over to him and grabbed the bars. “Before you waste all your tears on him, I want you to meet Brian.”

  Dicky wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Do you not have any mercy?”

  “Mercy! These lowlifes in here d
idn’t care about giving their victims mercy. I am simply a creation of all their combined wickedness. Without the wickedness of this world, I would not exist. My destiny began when a man drastically changed my childhood when he killed my parents while driving intoxicated. That was just the beginning of the horror to come into my life by the wicked, and I learned very quickly at a young age how cruel our world can be to the innocent.”

  Dicky wasn’t sure about speaking, but he had to ask. “Is the man who took your parents’ life in this chamber?”

  “He is not. But one day our paths might cross, and if he has not redeemed himself through salvation, his fate at that point will be destined with horror.”

  “Salvation?”

  “If you choose to live wickedly, I might be hiding in the dark waiting for you.”

  He sat quietly as he watched Seth walk across the chamber and over to a corpse of a black man who was still bound in a wooden medieval stockade. The body of the corpse had been gruesomely tortured and a knife was sticking out of its left eye socket. Seth laid his hand on the torture device, and in a joking manner said, “You can get anything on the Internet.”

  Dicky just sat emotionless.

  “And it’s also one of my favorite torture devices because it binds a person’s head and arms so they can’t move during torture. The stockade is torture in itself. It forces its victim to stand hunched over in a very uncomfortable position, and after long periods of time it becomes excruciating. After longer periods of time, such as years, a person’s body becomes deformed.”

  Seth pulled the knife out of the corpse’s eye and began trimming a hangnail. “This is Brian. Years ago, he worked in a nursing home until he was caught raping, robbing, abusing and murdering the elderly people that were under his care.”

  Dicky spoke out. “Did he do something to one of your relatives?”

  Seth stabbed the knife in the top of Brian’s head. “No!”