One fantasy that I have always been having since I received my first taste of sexual gratification was wishing that I could come upon a forest full of teenagers and young men dressed in black...long-sleeved shirts with connecting gloved, zipped at the wrists; loose shorts, ending at the top of the thighs; black below-the-calf socks and sneakers. Their hands would be tied behind their backs, their feet at the ankles. Each of them would be hanging by the neck, their feet dangling at different heights above the ground, some of them with their kneebacks at the level of my eyes. I would reach up to touch those that were closest to me, relishing in the icy coolness of their dead skin.
I would happily sit among them, gazing up at the corpses that were in different stages of either decomposition or in the process of being devoured by carrion eaters. I would have to wear a mask which would supply me with fresh air, because the smell of the carcasses would be overpowering enough to choke me to death.
Then, as if I was not even present, about a hundred new youths, ranging in ages from thirteen to twenty-three, would be marched into the forest, dressed for their deaths. They would be led by a "keeper", who led them by nooses tied about their necks. When they stopped near trees that have open spaces on the branches, the leaders fling the loose ends up to their partners who are meandering on the limbs. They, in turn, jump off the limbs, their weight countering for that of the youths at the other ends.
As they slowly get closer to the ground, the nooses tighten about the young necks and...UP THEY GO...twisting and jerking about in a floorless death dance. They dangle there...some with the hangman's knots at the top of their necks, jamming their chins into the top of their breastbones...others with the knots under the chin, tilting their heads backward into the most grotesque and uncomfortable position...the rest with the knots in the traditional position, on either side of the head, jerking the head either to the left or right.
But, no matter where the knot is placed, the result is the same...a slow and apparently torturously painful death!!! The gagging...the gasping for sweet air...IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL!!! Just the thought of watching them hanging there, their legs kicking out wildly, the leg muscles rippling in death throes and hearing them gagging and gasping their last is enough to send goose bumps up and down my spine.
As I continue to watch, one by one, the death throes slow and finally cease as the executioners exit the forest, never turning back to gaze at their handiwork. I watch them leave...then I turn back to look at the beautiful artistry that they left behind. I gaze at the dead intently...their young faces turning a deathly shade of white, their eyes bulging and bursting blood vessels, their tongues turning purple and swelling up inside their mouths, their lips slightly parted.
If this is how it looks to meet death at the end of a rope...then it looks like pure heaven!!!
I wonder.... If I should ever want to kill myself...would hanging be the answer? I mean, it may be excruciatingly painful and take a while if one is doing it all by himself...but it is totally clean. Now, if one has somebody to help him (you know, to give him a push from the top of a ladder or something), then it wouldn't be so bad...because the neck would snap and the person being hanged would die instantly, with very little pain.
Yes...hanging would be the best way.
But, I must find out what I would have to do if I want to join this forest of hanging youths...and become a part of man's artistic brutality towards his brother.
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