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Horrorwood's Victim vol 1
by Thomas Miller
Jizzabell lay dead on the floor of Ken Horrorwood’s studio, her once-beautiful face now twisted in a grotesque expression of pain and horror. Her body was still warm, her blood pooling around her in a macabre puddle. Ken stood over her, his camera in hand, a satisfied smile on his face.
He had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Jizzabell was his latest victim, and he had planned every detail of her murder meticulously. He had lured her in with promises of fame and fortune, and she had fallen for it, just like all the others.
But this time, something had gone wrong. Jizzabell had died too early, before he had a chance to capture her screams and final moments on film. It was a disappointment, but Ken was still pleased with the results. Her death would still make for a great snuff film.
He turned off the camera and looked down at Jizzabell’s lifeless body. She was a beautiful girl, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret that he wouldn’t be able to use her in his film. But that feeling was quickly replaced by excitement for his next project.
Ken had been making snuff films for years, and he had gained quite a reputation in the underground world of exploitation cinema. His films were known for their realistic style and graphic violence, and they had a cult following among the sick and twisted.
He grabbed a rag and began to wipe down the camera, careful not to disturb the crime scene. He was a perfectionist, and he prided himself on the quality of his films. He didn’t want any evidence of his involvement to be found.
As he cleaned, he thought back to how he had first gotten into the business. He had always been fascinated by horror and violence, and as a young man, he had experimented with making his own short horror films. But they were never quite enough for him. He wanted to push the boundaries, to shock and disturb his audience.
That’s when he discovered the world of snuff films. At first, he was hesitant to get involved, but once he made his first film, he was hooked. It was like a drug to him, the rush of power and control he felt over his victims.
He had a talent for finding vulnerable people, those who were desperate for fame or money, and luring them into his trap. He would promise them a role in a film, and then he would film their brutal murder.
And the more he did it, the more he became obsessed with the idea of being the best. He wanted to be known as the most prolific and talented snuff film director in the world. He would do whatever it took to achieve that goal.
He finished cleaning the camera and turned to Jizzabell’s body. He had to dispose of it before anyone found out what had happened. He had a system in place, a special way of disposing of his victims’ bodies so that they would never be found.
He wrapped her body in a tarp and carried it out to his van. He drove to a secluded spot in the woods, where he had buried countless bodies before. He dug a hole and buried Jizzabell’s body, making sure to cover it with dirt and leaves so that it wouldn’t be found.
Back at his studio, he began editing the footage he had captured. He was disappointed that he didn’t have the footage of Jizzabell’s death, but he knew he could work around it. He added in some fake screams and sounds of struggle, making it seem like he had captured her death on film.
As he worked, a sense of excitement and satisfaction filled him. He couldn’t wait to see the reactions of his audience when he released the film. He knew it would be his most controversial and talked-about film yet.
But as he continued to edit, he couldn’t help but think about Jizzabell. He wondered what her life had been like before he had taken it from her. He wondered if she had any loved ones who would miss her, if they would ever know what had happened to her.
But those thoughts quickly disappeared as he focused on his work. He was a filmmaker, an artist. And he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of his art.
Finally, he finished the film and uploaded it to the dark web, where it would be shared and downloaded by his twisted fan base. He sat back and watched as the comments and reactions poured in, basking in the attention and praise.
But as the night wore on, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Something didn’t feel right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a nagging feeling that something was about to go wrong.
He dismissed it as paranoia and went to bed, ready to start planning his next film. He had a reputation to maintain, and he was determined to keep pushing the limits of what was acceptable in the world of exploitation cinema.
But little did he know, his days as a snuff film director were about to come to an end. The police were closing in on him, and soon, he would face justice for his heinous crimes. And as he lay in bed, dreaming of his next victim, he never could have imagined the true horror that awaited him.