The blog of Aleksandr Zorin, serial killer.
Upon completing my first novel, Chaos, I thought it might be fun to take a much more intimate look at the psychology, history and mythology of the serial killer featured in the book. Here Aleksandr Zorin openly shares his motivations, memories, and methods with the world. Not for the faint of heart, these first person accounts of his exploits are collectively a dark and often disturbing look into the mind of a psychopath.
Rich with stunning artwork and a few hidden surprises for clever souls willing to explore a bit, The Maelstrom is the very definition of a guilty pleasure--for Zorin, for me, and hopefully you as well.
Where it all began:
I am Aleksandr Zorin, though I haven't used that name in years. I doubt there's even much of a paper trail tied to that existence- a birth certificate and a handful of school records, perhaps- but as far as our introduction goes, it's as good a name as any. I buried Aleksey alive under so many identities, he really no longer exists. He is... I am... a ghost. In the near future, however, that name will become a matter of importance for some, and it is therefore time that Zorin is reborn.
There are several things we must get out in the open before we continue this journey. Probably most important, is that I am a serial murderer. I am also an exceptionally good one, as you will soon learn. The things you'll read here will rarely be pleasant, unless you happen to be a psychopath with homicidal tendencies, or are at least a bit "off" in the head. I do not intend to censor the content of this page to pander to the fragile or faint of heart. You therefore read at your own risk. Or don't. I'm not here to collect your "likes" or "upvotes" or to build a cult audience that hangs on and shares my every word. I am here to recount and relive my artistry. These writings will be filled with my brilliant, beautiful and often bloody memories. They will be graphic, and may make for uncomfortable reading. You're welcome to click that little "x" up in the corner if it gets to be too much for you.
It’s not as easy as you might first imagine, skinning someone. Without practice, an excellent blade, and a skillful hand, you’re bound to make a mess of things. Too shallow and you’re leaving behind layers of fatty dermis, too deep and you’re hacking into the flesh, rich with blood vessels and capillaries. It’s not as simple as, say, opening up a flap of skin and ripping it away, accompanied by the sweet shhhhhhht and sucking sounds of adipose fat peeling away from muscle. Perhaps that impression has been left on you by images of Indians scalping their victims—grabbing a fistful of hair, opening a series of gashes with tomahawk or blade and giving a good yank. But the skin on the scalp is attached by a thin layer of connective tissue directly to the skull and is easily removed in one large piece. Most skin is attached to muscle, not bone, and it does not come away so cleanly. The layers of skin may separate from one another, leaving an untidy, oozing amalgam of fat, blood and tissue. A most disappointing result.