Outskirts of the UK, 1982
I live right around the corner of this really old thrift store. The manager is about 72 years old. He’s an old grumpy guy. Everyone says he’s about half dead. His thrift store is called the thrifty skins. I have no idea why he would call it thrifty skins. All I know is I feel sorry for him. When he was five, his entire family was slaughtered by a serial killer. He’s one disturbed man.
One day I had Jim come over. He’s my friend. We were so bored we decided to go to thrifty skins at night. Oh and I don’t think I’ve told you the creepy sounds that come from that store at night. I usually wake up at 3 am in the morning at night to this ripping sound. Almost like fabric ripping. But different.
That night Jim and I pulled out two flashlights and a video camera. We slowly crept up to around the side of thrifty skins. It was pitch black in the store. We jumped over the chain link fence and walked around the back of the store. There was one lamp that was flickering above us. My friend turned on the camera and started recording.
The backdoor was locked, my friend shoved his pocket knife and broke the lock. The door squeaked open. We turned on our flash lights. Jim went first into the store. The first thing I saw was a sowing machine. It smelled terrible in the store. There were long rows of sowing machines. Jim took my camera and ran into the large closed to the left of me. I whispered to him to stop.
“I just want to check this one thing out, it looks awesome,” he whispered back. I waited for him outside. It felt like hours. He didn’t come out.
“Damn it Jim,” I whispered to myself. I saw the camera laying on the floor. The lens was cracked. It smelled even worse in the closet. There were many coats hanging from stands. My head touched the first one. It was wet and warm. I turned on my flashlight and saw rows of skins. As if ripped straight from humans. There were flies circling everywhere. I had blood all over my legs and chest. I saw Jim hanging from the ceiling from a hook with a gaping hole in his stomach with his intestines hanging out as if a grotesque puppet. Lifeless. Without eyes. I fell back knocking over the rack and getting suffocated by the skins.
British Safety Group (B.S.G) 2001
Recently a group of BSG entered a thrift store which had been reported to be a place were 82-year-old killer stripped skin of his victims and make shirts out of them. A video camera was found with evidence of a child be stabbed repeatedly in the back, killing him.
