Over time, simply lurking in graveyards and breaking into mausoleums was not enough to satisfy my desires. My fantasies became sadistic blueprints �" tools for fulfilling my new cravings. Whether this change began at this point or years earlier is a matter of speculation, but it is clear that I believed that I had stepped up to an entirely new level.

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I woke up one day feeling this sinister urge to dig up a corpse and mutilate it. I gathered a small crowbar, a pair of pliers, a screwdriver, black candles and a pair of surgical gloves in a backpack. Then I took the subway until the ? station. It was nearly noon. The gates of the ? Cemetery were wide open, but nobody was inside. The undertakers were out for lunch.

"? is a small Gothic graveyard with plenty of huge mausoleums, which were built during the 19th century. It is located right between two large avenues, so it is impossible to climb inside at night. But anyway, nobody could ever imagine that there was someone robbing graves at noon.

"I had this special grave in mind. It was a small mausoleum, the burial site of a family of Russian immigrants from the 1917 revolution. I had already pried open the iron door a few days before, and I had closed it afterwards so it would seem that nobody had ever touched it. All I had to do was kick it open ... At this point, my mind was in total chaos. I had flashes of death in my head. I took a deep breath, and I climbed down the steps leading to the crypt.

"It was a rather small one, with damp walls, buried deep inside the cemetery ground. There was no other source of light than the candles I had brought. To begin, for more than an hour, I removed one of the heavy coffins from its stone casing. It was especially hard not to let the coffin fall all of sudden to the ground, but somehow I managed to slowly lay it down without making too much noise. However, one edge of the coffin scratched my lower leg when it touched the ground. But that didn't stop me at all.




I examined the casket for a while. It was solid oak and sealed with big screws. It looked like brand new, so I expected to find a recently deceased corpse. First, I unscrewed the coffin, which took me less than 10 minutes. Then I pried it open with the crowbar. Once opened, a horrible stench of putrefaction came out of the box. It smelled like Thanatyl, the product embalmers use on a corpse in order to delay the process of decay.

"Then I saw the body inside. It was a half rotten old man, shrouded in a white sheet, covered with brown stains. His face seemed to be smeared with oil, but it was simply the death fluids oozing from his skin. The stench was so intense that I nearly fainted. I tried to lift one side of the sheet, but it was glued to his petrified skin. The teeth were protruding from the mouth, but his eyes were gone. I stared into the empty eye sockets, and all of a sudden something broke into my mind. I felt like I was falling into a whirlwind.

"That's when I picked up a screwdriver. The corpse inside the coffin started to move slightly, like if it had guessed what would happen next. So I began to stab the belly, the rib area and the shoulders. I stabbed him at least 50 times. I really can't remember. All I can remember is that when I woke up my forearms were covered with corpse slime."

After violating my first grave, I spent much of my free time searching the cemetery for new graves to desecrate.