Board Thread:Writer's Showcase/@comment-11243334-20151111164522

I never thought I'd be talking about this again, but after discovering the truth I feel obligated to. About 2 years ago, I joined an online dating site. I joined because I wasn't doing too good in relationships, so my friend recommended that I join an online dating site to help. At first I was skeptical, but I gave in and decided to try it out. At first things were pretty boring, not really getting anywhere. It was about 3 weeks into the site when things got interesting. I was just looking around the site, seeing who would be interesting to talk to. Then, a user under the screen name "Ms. 1956" messaged me. I heard the notification bell ring, and looked to the right corner of the screen. I was met by a enthusiastic "Hi!". in the beginning of our conversation. I broke my rule of checking out the profile first, then choosing to respond, mainly because of the extreme boredom I was experiencing at that time. I messaged her back, saying "Hello", then lazily clicked on her profile to see her bio and profile picture.



  I immediately lit up; she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She was a red head with deep blue eyes, a thin face with bright red lips. Reading her bio was only an after thought, as I spent at least 5 minutes staring into her eyes. I scrolled down to read her bio, expecting to be greeted by some generic text. I saw the usual name and age, "Lucille, 24" (I was 25). Only what I found was the exact opposite of generic text however. Her name was Lucille, and according to her bio, lived by "1956 Morality". I was caught off guard for a second, since what every other girl here had as a bio was the usual "I like sports, movies, and video games!". After looking at her username again, I figured this shouldn't have been so unexpected. I read more into what exactly 1956 morality was, and it did not disappoint. Lucille believed that the main core of 1956 morality was that men are superior to woman. I was shocked, yet unsuprised. She did believe in 1956 morality after all, but it was so hard to believe someone would believe themselves infereior to others based on gender. The rest was typical, nothing too intense. I decided talking to her, since her looks got the best of me.



I started asking her about 1956 morality soon after the usual greetings, and she was happy to talk about it. I mainly asked about how she thinks men are superior to woman, and she responded by saying that a woman's purpose is based on serving a man, and that is what they are good for. I just ignored that mainly, since I was weirded out by it and didn't feel like dealing with it. We got along very well, we made each other laugh  and generally liked talking to each other. I also noticed 1956 being in her speech also, as she would say things such as "swell", or "golly". I just laughed to myself about it, I just thought it seemed cute. Talking to her was like going into the past, travelling to an alternate reality just by talking to her. We talked late into the night, and said goodbye at about 4:30 AM. I felt accomplished after talking to her, like I finally did something right with a girl. It definitely gave me a boost in confidence. I told my friend that recommended online dating to me, Clara, about her. Clara seemed suspicious of Lucille, she said she didn't trust someone who thought like that. I mainly shrugged it off, not really acknowledging her statement. Me and Lucille talked daily, and our bond grew stronger day after day. Sometime afterwards, Lucille asked me how I would feel about coming over to meet her. I thought about it, and figured it couldn't hurt.



I responded with sure. she sent back a swell, and she said she'll cook for me at her home. She lived about 15 miles away, not too bad. Clara came over soon after, and I told her of what I and Lucilles plan was. She immediately showed signs of deep concern, saying It's a bad idea. I told her I appreciated her sign of concern, but that I would be fine. Clara asked if I could at least let her know where Lucille lives, just in case. I gave a chuckle, and Clara beamed at me with a serious face. I said ok, and wrote down where Lucille lives. After about 2 hours of watching some TV, Lucille shot me a message, telling me she's prepared and I should go now. Clara gave me a look of concern, and I just told her that i'd be fine for the 7th time. I left Clara watching TV in my house, as I went off in my car to Lucilles. As I drove towards the street she lived on, I had a feeling of anticipation. It was a while since I was in a romantic relationship with a woman, and I had a feeling Lucille was going to be a great partner.



<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">I had felt the same feeling I felt when I first saw Lucille's bio. That feeling of being out of the ordinary. Her home looked like a piece of time that got lost in its own progression. The lawn was bright green, the car parked outside was a rusted 1957 Chevorlet, and the house was generally small and bright. I stepped out of my car, and walked up to the door. It was a bright yellow, and had a hand knitted "Home Sweet Home" doormat. I guessed she just had a lot of time. I softly rapped on the door, and almost instantaneously the door swung open. I was greeted with a great big smile and wide eyes. I was face to face with Lucille. She was about  1/2 inch shorter than me, which didn't matter, since I couldn't have been happier. She immediately made me sit down on her couch. That's when I noticed that the inside was more 1956 than anything I've ever seen. The walls were a bright yellow, the sofa was large and fluffy, the TV had rabbit ears and dials, and there was a grampahone playing "Zippity Doo Da". I felt uncomfortable here, it was like I was falling deeper into the rabbit hole of time in this house. Lucille jumped to my feet and took off my shoes and placed them in the corner of her house. She told me enthusiastically, "Oh my, it is truly exciting being in person, isn't it?". I agreed smiling. Lucille already had dinner prepared, so we sat down and watched "I Love Lucy" for about an hour. We talked and talked until dinner was done. I was honestly enjoying myself, and my affection for Lucille grew with evey minute. After dinner, Lucille grabbed our plates and started washing them.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">On my way back to the sofa, I noticed Lucille kept glancing behind herself, looking at a hallway. I thought to ask a question about it, but didn't care enough to ask. I layed on the couch, and started getting more tired with each passing minute. About 2 hours later, I told Lucille I was tired, and she just smiled and touched my leg. As I was about to fall asleep, I noticed Lucille got up from the couch and went back towards the hallway, and the last I heard was a loud clanking noise. Then, sleep caught up with me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">The first thing I sensed when conciousness seeped back into my mind was the echoed playing of A Long Way To Tipperary by John Mccormack on an old gramaphone. Slowly, I felt the sensation of being suspended in the air, a feeling of sickness coursing through me. When I tried to stand up, a chain shook and I was confused. Then I heard what sounded like a whimpering creature, mangled to the brink of death, trying to make a noise so it can confirm itself as still alive. Then vision came into focus, and I saw what was once a white tiled floor, now marked and scratched with unidentifiable stains covering the majority of it. I peered up and my eyes met something that looked inhuman. What once could have been a man, now was an annerexic creature, skin shaved off in several places, eroded bone protruding out of the thin, impossibly white skin. I was absolutely disgusted and horrified. It's bloodshot eyes met mine, and the creature made more whimpering noises. It tried to make movement, but it lacked any amount of strength to do anything but make incomprehensible noises. I looked around. There were several men chained to the wall facing me and next to me. Some looked like the creature, some looked impossibly obese, covered in what looked like food stains and dried vomit. They were all suspended, their legs and arms chained to the wall, wearing nothing but stained boxers and briefs. They all were moaning and whimpering, it sounded like a god damn zoo in there.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">Then a loud opening of a metal door abrupted, and the zoo fell silent. Several clicks were growing nearer, the expressions on their faces were growning more inhuman with fear. Then she emerged into the eroded hall. There Lucille stood, wearing a bloody apron, holding two plates of food in her hands. "A man always needs a woman to cook for him!". The annerxic ones looked down with an expression of sadness, while the obese ones started shaking violently. Lucille took the gag out of a fat ones mouth, and he shut his mouth immediately. Lucille smiled at him, and took a pair of scissors and cut into his mouth. The obese man opened his mouth and screamed in pain, and Lucille shoved the chicken breast in his mouth. He chewed painfully,  trying to be silent. The other obese men took to silence and ate their food without prtotest. One of them vomited on the floor, Lucille scowled, and cut into their fat bellies with the scissors. That explains the several scars on them. Lucille then turned to the scrawny ones. "You've been very disgusting, don't you know sex is after marriage?". The creatures did not move. "I will spare you for now, however". The creatures did not move. Then Lucille turned to me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">I stared into her deep, blue eyes. "You've been good, you get to eat my dear! I will be right back!". She went to the big metal door, and shut it loudly. I realized soon I would be one of theses obese men, put through immense torture, and I wasn't going to let that happen. I had enough strength to break the chains, as they were very rusty. I pulled hard, yanking and yanking, each time harder than the last. I still had enough strength in me to break free of these chains. And in a minute I broke my right arm free. Then the left. Then my legs. I fell face first into the floor, feeling pain rush all over my body. I must have been bruised up by her, since I felt sore all over, and my left leg felt like hell. The creatures and and obese stared at me. They started to whimper louder than ever, begging me to free them. I looked into their eyes. I didn't have time to save them, I had to worry for myself. I limped down the hall, and noticed a window in the basement. I grabbed a stool and tried to open it, but of course it was locked. I didn't have the strength to try anymore. I couldn't smash it. I waited in the corner of the room, and noticed a eroded skeleton in the corner. I felt like I never met Lucille before, like the person cutting into her tortured victim was another person, and Lucille and her had never met. I saw shelves of dirty water, and other supplies. I figured this was a bomb shelter, made into a make shift torture room. Then the vault slowly opened, making a terribly loud noise. The zoo went wild. Lucille was past the door, walking to my former chains, expecting to see me there. I limped as fast as I could while she was away.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">She slowly walked towards the hall where her victims were, and turned the corner. I shut the vault door as soon as she did. She shrieked with anger, but it was too late. I already had shut the vault door and was locking it. She banged on the door, shrieking louder than anything I've ever heard. I limped up the stairs, going past the couch, gramaphone playing Zippity Doo Da, when the front door got busted open. The police were here. They pointed their pistols up at me, then Clara came in and told them I wasn't the psycho. The officers went past me, going towards the stairs. I limped up to her and hugged her. She asked me what the hell had happened, and I was just silent. The police went to the vault, and Clara tried to go with them. I grabbed her arm, and shook my head. I asked if we could wait outside, I didn't feel comfortable in this house. We sat on the car hood of a police cruiser, and waited for the officers. Clara was silent, I guess she knew I didn't feel like talking. They came back with their pistols holstered. "Did you get her?" Clara asked. The officers said they found several obese and annerexic men chained up dead, with their bellies slit open. They found a broken window, with blood on the shards. They said that they have 2 officers searching for her, but she may not be found. I sighed. I couldn't sleep for a week afterwards. Clara moved in with me and became my roomate afterwards. I had PTSD from the experience. I went to therapy.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">I eventually got over what happened as much as I could, and tried to move on. Recently however, It cropped up again. Clara told me that the police have found blood trails in the woods, writings in the trees saying a womans purpose is a man. I started thinking about why she thought that. I could have just assumed she was just insane, but I knew it went deeper than that. I asked Clara if the police had any records of her. She called and said the police only knew her full name, Lucille Colton. I looked up her name online, nothing. About 6 days later, we got a call from the station. They said a Dr. Yuron had called, claiming he knew about Lucille. When I was going to visit Dr. Yuron, Clara asked me if I was alright. Heh, I figured by then I would be fine.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">I knocked on his door, he welcomed me inside. Dr. Yuron was a skinny gentleman, about 60 years old. You could see the tiredness in his eyes, like he never got over something. He made some tea for us, we sat down and talked. I asked him what he knew about Lucille. First, he said he heard what happened to me and was very sorry, and asked if I was sure I could discuss this. I answered yes. He began by saying he first met Lucille in 2005. He was doing a psychological evaluation of her. He said she grew up in the house I was trapped in. Her family was... strange to say the least. They also believed in 1956 morality, and lived in a house from the 1950's. That explains the bomb shelter she kept her "dears" in. Lucille's mother always acted as a servant towards her husband, apparently out of fear. Lucille told Yuron that her mother would always give nasty looks to her husband when he wasn't looking. But one day, she snapped. Lucilles mother attempted to stab her husband with a pair scissors, but the tables turned quick. Lucille's father grabbed the scissors out of her hand, and stabbed her in the throat, right in front of Lucille. She was 6 years old. Her father was a maniac, plain and simple. He was power hungry and always looked for ways to enforce some sort of authority on somebody. He, unfortunately did this to Lucille. For 9 years since she was six, Lucille's father enforced his "authority" through commiting domestic violence on her. According to Dr. Yuron, he would brutally... rape her. He would beat her, and commit sexual acts on his own goddamn daughter! Like I said, Lucille endured this for 9 years until she too, snapped. Only she was succesful this time. When her father was asleep, Lucille took the same pair of scissors her mother was killed with, and stabbed her father in the stomach. She watched the blood flow from his mouth, watched him struggle until he died. She apparently stowed the body in the bomb shelter below, keeping it there. That explains the horrid, eroded skeleton. Suddenly I didn't feel so bad for the skeleton. Lucille was put up for psychological evaluation, after her father went "missing" and she was left alone at 15 years old.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">Dr. Yuron listened to Lucille tell this story, and was petrified of her by the end of it. He said goodbye, and told her to sit in the waiting room. Dr. Yuron told me he immediately made reports in his office, recommending Lucille be institutionalized ASAP. Lucille stayed in an orphanage until she was 18. The state said they could not afford another patient, that it's too much money, or too much paperwork. they threw her away, like she didn't matter. Dr. Yuron couldn't believe how irresponsible the state government was being, not accepting a patient for ridiculous reasons. Dr. Yuron told me he still hates them to this day, and retired because of it. When Lucille was released from the orphanage, she went back to that hell hole of a living space. Dr. Yuron said he regrets not trying to stop her, not trying hard enough to help her. Dr. Yuron simply retired and lived with his wife and children, living a life of regret and peace. He said when he was recently robbed of something, he went to the police station to report it. There he noticed some officers talking about what a bitch it is hunting down Lucille. That was when he called. I still had one more question about Lucille, before I left the doctor to his life of peace and regret. I asked, why did she do this?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">Why did she chain up men, torturing them? Dr. Yuron let out a sigh, and began explaining. He told me that when people experience trauma like Lucille did with a person, they tend to not trust or hate the type of person. Someone may be assaulted by a black man, and not trust or they may even hate the blacks because of it. This is what happened with Lucille, he said. She experienced a terrible childhood, it all due to a man. The fact she was taught that men were superior to women did nothing but make this hatred easier to attribute to men, the main target. She honestly believed men are superior to women, but sub conciously, she held a deep, deep hatred for men. That explains why she tortured them. She sees it as rewarding them with food, or punishing those who tried to have sex with her by starving them and cutting them, as it was against 1956 morality to have sex before marriage. She pleased her sub concious by torturing them, and pleased her concious mind by "serving" them.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span lang="EN" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-ansi-language:EN">I finally felt some kind of closure, like I was finally released of this terrible experience. I thanked Dr. Yuron and shook his hand, and I drove back home. I told Clara about the truth, and for once like me, she felt more pity than hatred for Lucille. I had discovered the terrible truth, but it at least gave me some kind of closure. I was more angry at Lucille's father and the state government than herself. How her father just abused her, fed her lies so he could continue his life of dominance and bring nothing but trauma to her. The state government, how they just threw her away, when she could have been given mental help, they instead sacrified her for the sake of resource. I at least knew now, it was unfair to hate Lucille for what she did to me and those other men. She was a lost soul, driven mad by unfair circumstances. However, I could never shake the feeling I was being watched, especially when by myself. Two days after I talked to Dr. Yuron, the police gave us a call. They were regretful to infrom that Dr. Yuron was found dead in his home after his family left for the park. He apparently had an accident with scissors. <ac_metadata title="Ms. 1956"> </ac_metadata>