Dionysus is back!
You know what that means.


He would sit up from the bed where he lay, watching the clock tick; each monotone like a hammer driving nails into every brain cell, puncturing it, pouring out the slithering juice of static into his nervous sytem.
One second felt like hours.
One hour felt like a day.
One day felt like a century.
This hadn’t been a feeling strange to him. Back then, he could get by just watching porn. The moans of the actresses seemed the only thing that could distract him for a short while. When the blood left his head and flowed south to his cock, he felt liberated from the voices forever tormenting him inside his head.

These voices never shut up.
They feel the need to analyse everything.
He found that the only time he could numb these voices was when he was doing something taboo. Something so stimulating and so wrong that it aroused dormant animalistic parts of the brain normally repressed by everyday life; repressed by society, religion & convention.
Those parts that are involved in the raw carnal expression of the human soul.
He found that it was only when he was high that he could actually control his thoughts and channel them to a particular direction. Sober, his thoughts were sporadic like the waves of the caspian sea but on drugs, they came out like water pouring from a tap.

Jeremy never liked what everybody liked. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was born sick, born with what the doctors called Asthma. This had caused him to spend most of his childhood in the hospital.
This, coupled with the tauntings of his siblings, making fun of him while he was sick and gasping for breath, made him develop a subconscious disdain for humanity at an early age.
The wickedness; the cruelty.
He saw this done to a child born blind, forced to live the rest of his days forever being less than his peers.
He saw this done to an innocent child born with HIV from his parents and dying at the age of 6.
He saw this done to someone born with a handicap and everyone pretending like they didn’t see the shriveled atrophied limbs, always keeping a grotesque plastic smile on their faces.
Even the way able-bodied people treated others like themselves.
Kill or be killed; take or be taken from…
All this made him loathe humanity and he swore he would never end up like them. He promised himself that he would do whatever it took to not end up like humanity.
He wanted to overcome humanity. To become larger than it.
To become better, more grandiose than it.
“Insecurity isn’t mine to feel. Fear isn’t mine to feel. I would do whatever it takes to not feel it. I will take whatever it takes to not feel it”.
This was Jeremys motto.
This is the secret code of anyone who ever created anything in this world.
They distance themselves from their peers, think in solitude and do something about their thoughts. Success is a lonely path filled with lots of distractions usually labelled as ‘friends’.
Jeremy decided to create a blog at the age of 13.
He called it Pandora’s Box, the title based on the myth. Whoever opened the ‘box’ would have seen something so maniacal and sinister that their minds would forever be scarred – they wouldn’t be able to return to how they were hitherto before they opened it.
He kept posting the most diabolical, evil content he could find on the web on that blog.
He also nested his writing ability with the blog, giving some pictures captions, writing short stories, uploading evil documentaries like the Columbine shootings, Ted Bundy, Charles Manson, and clips from horror movies as well as previews.
Five years later, his blog was getting so much attention with 105,932 hits, averaging 400 hits per day. The likes of Stephen king, Wes Craven, John Carpenter visited his blog. He got a deal from one of them and they used his story to make a blockbuster horror movie called Phantasmagoria. It stayed number 1 at the box office for about a month, something no present day horror movie can do. With this, the attention his blog was getting skyrocketed to about 20,000 hits per day. Also, with the money Jeremy got for the storyline of Phantasmagoria and the royalty paid to him, he became rich.

I said earlier that Jeremy never liked what everybody liked. He bought a 16th Century Gothic mansion, a Ferrari and got himself sexy female workers, hiring them basically for their looks not for their qualifications.
Right from the security team to the drivers, to the maids where girls dressed in sexy costumes to fill the role.
It all looked like a scene from a pornographic or a raunchy techno video.

His obsession with the occult grew as more people visited his blog. He had to keep the content interesting. He had to keep it new and if he wanted to do that, he had to delve deeper into the occult. He soon started organising costumed orgies in his mansion. Everyone gathered around in a room he called the ‘Sin Chamber’.
They all wore  masks.
The purple cape was optional, their genitalia exposed. What he did was burn a large dose of the hemp plant, letting it pass through the air supply as the orgy went on. This heightened their senses and lowered their inhibitions making them fuck like rabbits, groping, moaning like hungry wolves. He read somewhere that a room filled with sexual activity stored that energy and that room was a perfect medium to perform black magic.
Whether all this was fact or fiction, Jeremy had a strong belief in the occult so all this stuff was real to him. He performed certain rituals in the room when no one was around. He needed only his female staff to stand around him nude in the room as the ritual needed him to have an erection.
This was an agreement on their contract.
They were told they would be paid extra for ‘extracurricular activities’ if they ticked a certain box. Many of them ticked the box.
He claimed that these rituals gave him enlightenment. Enabled him to see beyond the normal scope. Whether it was true or not, nobody knows. He posted the orgies on his blog and still got more hits. People could only access the videos of the orgy if they were registered as premium users on his blog thus, generating even more income.
He was voted FreaKY Magazine Scariest Man Alive.
He now donned a mysterious look like the pope with a black/purple robe.
His obsession with the occult still grew deeper and that was when he took a trip to Mexico.
Like a junkie, even though he believed his room filled with the nectar and the aura of sexual activity gave him power, he still wanted more. A shaman sold to him a very powerful potent psychedelic plant. He burned it at the next orgy.

As the plant was burned, the usual wanton sex and the low moans had already begun although, something about the mood seemed darker. As the fumes permeated the air, the people started getting more violent and instead of moans, they were laughing so hard with tears rolling down their cheeks.
The men started thrusting harder, the women started scratching. As more smoke filled the room, wails were heard as punches started occuring; biting, kicking. They were rutting violently, tearing flesh off each others’ skins.
The drug leached their brains and one by one, they began to die of blood loss.
The ones that were still alive placed their index and middle fingers right through their eyeballs before banging their head repeatedly on the floor till they bled to death.
The whole room was covered in blood and dead bodies.
His next ritual was that he lay with dead bodies for 7 days straight, no food, no water. By the fourth day, the bodies started to stink real bad but that was of course, part of the ritual.
It was said that if he inhaled the stench of their rotten corpses, he would absorb part of their souls, ‘mana’ they called it. The whole ritual was to give him extra powers, clairvoyance, spiritual knowledge etc. The massacre also went on tape but it wasn’t put on his blog. It was sold to a very rich collector in Yugoslavia for a very high price. Nobody knew whether the rituals were working or it was just Jeremies strong belief in them but by then, Jeremy looked very sinister, like the Devil himself.
He had dark circles surrounding his eyes, a skin head and a thick beard like a knife. His voice sounded like a frog when he spoke, Very slowly and with every word and every syllable enunciated properly. He always looked people straight in the eye and seldom blinked, seldom moved his head but only moved his lips as he spoke. This was to put whoever was speaking to him in a sort of hypnotic trance. Who would have thought a sick asthmatic nervous child could go this far? People who made fun of him in the past were now scared shitless of him as well as in awe and admiration of him. This wasn’t enough though. His hatred of mankind made him want to destroy it.

The final ritual was that he sacrifice his phallus for godhood. If he did this, the ritual claimed he would be able to move through time, alter people’s perception with just his stare, cause a mass genocide with a snap of his finger and be impervious to any form of attack. He decided to cut his dick off, afterall, he had had sex with every woman he ever lusted for both for ritual & non ritual purposes. He had grown tired of sex. Darkness and the occult was more of a release for him than the 20 minute pleasure he felt from an orgasm. He recited his incantations, put the knife at the base of his dick and sawed it off, back and forth.
Unfortunately, he bled to death.
People got aware of his violent orgies, killing a total of 643 people. People who came to the orgies were never allowed to tell anyone so missing people came up in the news but nobody knew their whereabouts.
Jeremy was labelled the Scariest & Most Evil Man Ever by some.
A label he would have cherished if he were alive.
The greatest desire of any weak man on Earth was to make those who made him feel weak afraid and envious of Him.
A feat Jeremy achieved.


Dionysus is just one helluva disturbed dude.