Red is still my favorite color. I decorated the walls myself. But bugs of all kinds stick to the newly painted wall. I can still hear all the screams embedded in this room.

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Come back tonight and be my special guest. I have  followed you all week. I waited for you to pass by alone. The bloodied table awaits, and no one will hear your pleas for help.

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Eyes are the windows to the soul I have heard. You will see every cobweb the other spiders have left behind. I must remove your eyes after I am done. While I work of course, I must see your fear. And the shelves hold all my trophies.The rats are waiting for new blood.

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I shall hear you so much more clearly now. You will pay attention to me as I deserve. I have a vast selection of tools hanging on the walls to assist me. My filet knives come from Germany. The blades are so thin. It can take days to get all the way to the bone.

Another layer for the wall , I do so love my work. Each and every cruel remark  will now be noted in flesh and wallpaper. Cobwebs will not hold the only victims here.

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Your cries they will feed me, your abject fear delights me in the extreme. I shall skin, and  tattoo you in ritualistic  fashion. I made you a special drink, you can feel everything, but not move or scream aloud. But I and I alone will be able to see you scream.

I may open up the walls and have the other men watch you as I work.  They can no longer splash debris upon the ceiling, so yours will have to suffice.

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