Search This Blog


Saturday, November 26, 2011

Beautiful Silence


Copyright Lia Scott Price

Beautiful Silence

She prays only for show. She puts all her faith into statues that she believes will save her. But she is as hollow as the little guardian angel statues she prays to.

Her prayers do not give her a soul. Her soul was corrupted from the day she abused me, her only child. And yet she dares to ask her statues for forgiveness for what she has done. But did she ever think about asking ME for forgiveness? She deprived me of a childhood, of a life. It was a life once filled with pain, torture, fear and anger.

And now, even as a Guardian Angel, a supposed holy and peaceful being, I still retain all those emotions, and I do not feel obligated to save humans from their own miseries. I certainly suffered through mine.

And my goal in answering prayers is to get revenge. From anyone who whines to me.

Because of you, mother.

She had no idea that a Guardian Angel had a memory. It was when I died at 10 years old, from her abuse. She claimed it was an accident, but I knew better. She got away with murder.

It is when she prays for help to her Guardian Angel that I answered. And I arrive with a vengeance.

When I crack open her skull, Iʼm not surprised to find that there is nothing there, except brain matter. No intelligence, no empathy, nothing deserving of sympathy or salvation. I will tear every part of her into pieces. I am the killer you whining humans created.

She will feel the cut of a sharp knife against human flesh. I still relish the thought of watching her face as her skull gets split in two, exposing blood and brains, all that rotten matter spilling all over. I wonder if she is aware of how her head is severed from her abusive, worthless body.

I wondered if she even had time to ponder if she ever felt guilty about what she did to me, as what's left of her brain leaves her skull?

And as her whining, narcissistic prayer to me is silenced, I realize…. it's such a beautiful, peaceful silence.

A Guardian Angel hates whining.

The Beginning


Copyright Lia Scott Price

The Beginning

A Guardian Angelʼs own anger and personal trauma can be a powerful tool. It can destroy. She is an angel who stands over her abusive parents while they sleep, recalling their psychologically abusive and uncontrollable temper tantrums. She committed suicide at an early age, and despite the myths that those who kill themselves cannot go to Heaven, she became a Guardian Angel, and was obligated to answer the prayers of those who prayed for help and protection.
Ironically, she now listens to her own parentʼs hypocritical prayers: “Please protect me, help make me rich, help me go to Heaven, I go to church every Sunday, I donate to the church, and I deserve to be saved.”

She shakes her head at their selfishness and hypocrisy, She blames them for her death. They abused their own daughter.

All she wanted was for her abusive parents to stop being so angry over every little thing and for them to stop taking it out on her. And now she had the power to answer their prayers and to destroy them---through their own rage. She now had the free will to do so despite her obligation to help mankind.

She could rebel. She could become a killer that no one would suspect, not even her own creator. It was a rage that ate away at this Angelʼs insides. And it led her to do away with who she hated.

The child in her wanted those who abused her to feel fear, because she was tired of being afraid of their anger. Her parents still lived in the dark ages where they thought it was acceptable to be abusive to a child. They represented the worst of a human sociopathic culture and society: parasitic, with no empathy, immature, arrogant, abusive, hypocritic, lacking in decency and ethics, insecure about their own selves, malicious, materialistic, greedy, and self-righteous. She wanted people like them to stop to multiplying like the plague, and she hated them and all who
were like them.

They robbed her of her childhood with their unforgivable abuses and neglect. It was a shameful family secret. She did not expect them or their kind to ever apologize for all the trauma they caused her and that she still suffered from. She didn't choose where she was born or to whom, but she considered all the abuse to have begun with her parents and their kind, and she held them fully responsible for all the abuse and trauma that tormented her.

They taught her to feel nothing but hate.

Yes, a Guardian Angel can feel pain, and can hate. And can be vengeful. She felt that only way to purge such anger is to purge them from life. And to make sure they bled. She was ready to answer their prayers in her own way. Her father had used the belt on her when she was alive, and she made him dream, about the time when he took it off to use it on her, and in his dream it wrapped around his own neck and choked him to death. And her mother, as she dreamt about screaming and yelling abusive words to her child, had stopped in the midst of her rage, picked up a knife, and stabbed herself to death, using the force of her own rage, in her own dream, until she lay in a pool of her own blood.

And that is how they were found. That was this Angel's vindication, her comfort and revenge. She was once human after all. And she would go after the rest of the family, tracking them down through their prayers for help, because of what they knew. They watched. They did nothing.  They stayed in denial.   They did nothing to help her, because they had no empathy and were too concerned about getting along with everyone, with keeping the peace, even though they knew abuses were being committed.

And she listened for their prayers….and waited.

Heaven's Hotline: Suicide


Copyright Lia Scott Price

Heaven's Hotline: Suicide

I respond to extreme emotional pain and suicidal thoughts. Think of it as my homing beacon to those in despair. I am the reason people commit suicide. I am a mercy Killer. Why prolong your life circumstance? Are you under extreme stress? Are you emotionally upset, to the point that you plan to take your own life? I find ways to do it for you. As long, of course, as you have no hope left.

I am that little voice in your head that says "do it". You've probably heard the saying--suicide is an involuntary thought you don't "choose" to think them. They just come into your mind during times of extreme despair. Actually, it's really just my doing--my whispering into your ear. I'm such a bad guardian angel. I'm supposed to help people through their times of trouble. Screw that.

Let me give you an example of what my day was like, what I have to put up with, especially with you humans. So on any given day, I'm quite busy. I get desperate prayers from you whiners, say, 100 times a day (think several billion people of you here on Earth. It's a crappy job. And there are only so many guardian angels assigned to each of you. many of them still "in training".) It's just easier to put you all out of your misery. Cuts down on our work. Really, it does.

It's Heaven's new customer service. Because we really don't like our job. We have to listen to your problems every waking moment of our lives. It gets to us. It really does. So whatever compels someone to suicide, it's the work of their guardian angel.

First, I hear your prayers. You expect me to respond, don't you? How do I respond? Well, that really depends. It's all about finding the most convenient way to get rid of you, to get you to end your life, and of course, it requires perfect timing. For instance, a well-timed walk right into the path of an oncoming vehicle. Or a walk into the sea, if you prefer drowning. Mercy killing isn't easy. It takes a lot of convincing. I have to stand there and whisper these thoughts into your ear. It's kinda like you've called Heaven's despair hotline and I answer, and I have to listen to you vent and whine and complain about your life, and then you expect a response. A quick answer. An end to all your troubles. You expect us to constantly fix you. We're tired of it. Our job gets to us too.

I'm most receptive when you're in a church, kneeling and praying. That's when you're most vulnerable. When you pray for help. But of course, it has to be a very desperate prayer. Otherwise, it's not worth my time. That's the catch. Unless there is the sickening possibility that you have a positive attitude and you can get yourself out of the bind you're in, I'm not interested in killing you. Maybe I'll entertain you with a suicidal thought or two, but that's pretty much as far as I'll go. It's an option. I'm just sayin'. But it you're really too far gone in your depression, well, you're just a walking--make that kneeling---target.

So. here are your options: Bleeding (my favorite, because I get to cut you open and make you look like you did it yourself--stabbing, slicing your wrists, even slicing your own throat). Electrocution, (messy but not as spectacular), but seeing someone on fire is especially gratifying to me. Jumping off a cliff (easiest one. If you do hesitate, however, I will give you a little "push"). Shooting yourself. (I just suggest it. You do all the work. I prefer sharp objects). Of course, death by cop is also an option. Just wave a gun at a bunch of cops and get them to fire on you. Quite a spectacular way to go, don't you think? Hanging. (I'll teach you how to tie a good knot). Poisoning or drug overdose (I get the leftover drugs, of course!). Blowing yourself up. My personal favorite, (although much harder to do (but we'll find a way if you really want it).



Copyright Lia Scott Price


We're serial killers. We can convince other people to kill other people, purely for amusement. And it gets you off our backs too. It shuts all you whiners up.

The sweet little old lady down the street who lost it and shot up her neighbors with a sawed-off shotgun? That was my doing. I pushed her to it. All the more better if she kills herself afterwards. My job is done, and they take the blame.

And you wonder why someone's guardian angel didn't save them, or intervene. That's because we did them in. We had no plans to save them. We had every intention of convincing them to kill themselves. We even take the initiative and finish them off (we like to use swords or knives.)

Never quite thought of it that way, did you?

When someone stabs another person, that was also our doing. We made them do it. We relish the thought that we can convince others to do what we want them to do. And you believe in us so much that you want us to save you. Prayer isn't going to save you. Because we sure as hell won't.

We channel our own frustrations through humans. Man of us angels were murdered in our past lives (mostly b the church, under the term "martyred.) Or we were sent to our deaths in ghastly, painful was (the inquisition, etc.) so of course we're pissed. Then we're assigned to watch over and protect humans. Sometimes yes, we don't like our job. Most of the time we're forced to become protectors, and we resent humans. Never thought about that, did you? Because there's really no reward. We're not paid by Heaven to put up with your whining. Our reward is the satisfaction of getting rid of you, of shutting you up for good. And helping ourselves to whatever Earth has to offer---your car, your women, even your cash.

The Gift


Copyright Lia Scott Price

The Gift

Who knew that a Guardian Angelʼs childhood was filled with rage and bad memories. As he looks at the bleeding bodies of those who prayed to him, he wonders if he did enough to make up for the trauma of childhood? His latest victim was a supposedly deeply religious mother who had slapped her child to shut the kid up, because he was trying to get her attention because he was hungry,
but she preferred to talk on the phone with her friends for hours.

Her anger caused her child to try to ignore his pangs of hunger and fear each day. He never knew what would make her mad. He was a thorn on her side. She was deeply religious woman, but one who was not spiritual. But that really wasnʼt the cause of this Angelʼs  rage. He knew she showed up at church in her best outfits just  for show, using money that should have gone to feed her child. She had an air of self- righteousness about her.

And he had heard her pray  for her secret abuses to someday be forgiven in heaven, for her sins to be erased just because she went to church. Every time she felt the holy water at the tips of her fingers, she felt purged. He watched as she donated a few coins to the church, thinking that money would buy her salvation in the afterlife. He laughed to himself as she made her prayers to the saints and the angels, hoping for some reward, for eternal salvation.

But who knew that when she talked to her supposed Guardian Angel that he was really a serial killer, targeting the people who reminded him of the mother who abused him in his own life. It is said that prayer is a refuge. But instead, it is a beacon for an Angel seeking revenge.

And the angel came. And he left behind a head here, an arm there. A Guardian Angel tearing out her hypocritical tongue, her blackened heart. He found her through her selfish, pretentious, and self-righteous prayers, where she begged for her Angel to get her out of the life she led, where she wished she didnʼt have a child, that she could get rid of all the problems in her life, that she could just get rid of all her sins and live a life of pleasure and riches. Each prayer of her brought him closer to her..…and they never saw it coming. This Guardian Angel answered her prayers by hacking her to pieces with his sword. Blood splattered on his white

You remind me of my own mother, he said to her. I will purge myself of her memory, one limb at a time. I will start with your feet. I will hack them off right at the ankles. I will hack off your legs.

Do you feel my own pain yet? Now youʼll feel the sharp blade on your arms. Do you believe in God? You asked him to send an angel to save you. But I wonʼt save you. You fear God, only because you are afraid of guilt-driven eternal punishment. So you pray to your useless saints for the reward of a glorious life in heavenly paradise, for your sins to be absolved.

He spoke to her as he cut her up. He found her to be hollow inside. For every limb he cut off,  each loss of a limb was a chance to fill the void within him. Each hole he cut in her covered up the holes in his own life, those empty, dark voids. Despite the fact that her head was now separated from her body, he continued to talk to her, as if she could still hear what he had to say.

He continued to tell her he had been abused as a 6-year old child, so he understood pain.

But he wasnʼt there as an avenger for the abused, he wasnʼt there as some supernatural superhero, he did this only to ease his own pain and inner rage. He wasnʼt there to expose the religious   hypocrites. He couldnʼt care less if the good sinned or strayed. He used their sins as a beacon for his own form of personal “therapy” He targeted specific prayers and people, and used mercy killing as a way to try to erase the memories of a painful childhood. In reality, he couldnʼt care less what happened to the child he now left as an orphan.

All he cared about was shutting up the annoying voice of another praying, begging, desperate, nagging human being who he felt he shouldnʼt have to help. He was sick of answering prayers, no matter the reason. To him, the most beautiful sound was that of her screams. It took away the pain for just a moment. He simply wished for the desperate prayers, the haughty voices, to be silenced forever.

And he hoped that in time, the hate would fade away too.

His gift to the child was a single bloody feather the child gleefully played with, while sitting next to his motherʼs bloody remains.

Drink Up


Copyright Lia Scott Price

Drink Up

Suicide by drowning is defined as the act of deliberately submerging oneself in water quite long enough to prevent breathing and deprive your brain of oxygen. Drowning's not so common, though. But it is one of the most interesting.
it's not as bloody, but it is interesting to see someone I'm holding down under water struggling.

Once you made the decision, I'm not going to let you back up out of that tub, pool, puddle, or whatever you've got our face submerged under.

Go ahead a thrash as much as you like. You're ding. I can feel it. I can feel you desperately trying to access air as you start to panic. You inhale the water, our throat constricts. Water flows into your stomach. It's horrifying, yes, I know. You go unconscious.

And instead of saving you as a good guardian angel should, I leave you there. See, if life is way too hard for you to handle, what the hell do you people keep doing? Calling on us. So once you do, and you want to end your life, make sure you mean it. We hate getting our shirts wet.

Too late to change your mind. I've answered your prayer.