Welcome to Dead Teenage Girls

This site is dedicated to teenage girls who are "no longer with us". You will not find any adult-oriented images or text on this site, and none of the site's content is overly graphic or violent.

However, if you have a female relative or friend who died as a teenager, you'll probably want to skip this whole site. On the other hand, you may want to send in your story and/or photos for inclusion here. Only you know where your emotional borderline lies, and whether you feel up to crossing it.

As you may have noticed, there are some very sick individuals participating in the magical creation we call the Internet, and for this reason, the subject matter of Dead Teenage Girls is limited to those who have not died as a result of being murdered. Dead Teenage Girls is, for lack of a better term, a "spectator's sport" for the ethically-challenged, not an interactive hobby for misogynous psychopaths.

"Why would anyone create a web site about dead teenage girls?" you might ask.

It was 5:10 pm on January 22, 2001 at the local ice rink ... two hundred of us weaving and carving our patterns in the ice, and if even one of us - myself included - had not shown up that day, Buttercup would not have been in that spot at that exact moment.

At the end of the day the inescapable fact kept coming back to me that if I had stayed home that day - like I almost did - it would have been impossible for Buttercup to have fallen at that instant, in that spot, in that exact manner and with that much force.

That statement may sound presumptuous if you're not an ice skater, but think of it in terms of standard vehicular traffic: The space taken up by your car is guaranteed to cause at least one driver to have to stop at a light that would have still been green, had you stayed home. From that point on, that driver is about two minutes later than he would have been, at every point in his journey, and the ripple effect on the proceeding circumstances then increases exponentially, as the driver interacts with hundreds of vehicles he would never have encountered ... had you stayed home.

Ever had the nagging feeling you shouldn't go somewhere, and you go anyway, and nothing of any real consequence seems to happen as a result of your ignoring the premonition? Did it ever occur to you that someone is now dead as a result of your seemingly innocent decision?

The same dynamic is in play on a crowded ice rink, except without lanes and traffic signals. You are about to practice a backward counter-clockwise crossover, but the old man is having trouble with the brakes and he's coming right at you, so you shift your center of gravity and increase the pressure on your left stroke and quickly cut a 90-degree angle, which causes the little girl to stop practicing her bunny hop, which gives the hockey player the opening he needs to break into an all-out sprint, but the housewife sees that and yells for her son to pay attention, and the son stops in time to prevent the ice princess from launching her double salchow ... and all this takes place in seven seconds. One ice skater, more or less, in a ninety-minute public session, and you've created tens of thousands of alternate universes...

Like the one that caused Buttercup to catch a toe-pick, hit her head on the ice and lie there like a pile of discarded laundry.

I saw it happen, start to finish, and what impressed me was the gracefulness of the accident. CHICK went the toe-pick, and the thirteen-year-old girl was airborne, legs straight, arms outstretched, and then she landed flat on her stomach, with her face turned to the right, smacking the side of her head at the same time.

Her little skirt flipped up in reaction to the impact, then relaxed peacefully over the curve of her pampered butt. Her entire body convulsed for just a half-second, then went limp. All this happened so quickly that I had not yet skidded to a complete stop before Buttercup was dead. She was so still and lifeless that I thought for a moment she was not even hurt - that she was, instead, hamming it up for her friends. But she didn't move ... again ... ever.

The session would have ended five minutes later, had the skate pros not cleared the ice right then.

One piece of plastic, more or less, in the kaleidoscope, and the picture would have looked entirely different. If just one person there had stayed home, or one more person had joined us, the kaleidoscope would have produced an image that still included Buttercup.

The crowd gawked through the protective glass as the skate pros covered her in blankets and waited for the ambulance. All I could think about was the impact ... the flip of the skirt ... the final shudder ... and the resulting surrender. And I was jealous.

Buttercup died instantly, painlessly, while ice skating. There is not a better way to die.

The fire truck was just arriving as I walked through the parking lot to my car, and more sirens were blaring from a distance. For some reason, the fire truck always arrives first when there's an accident at the rink.

Buttercup's parents were just arriving, thinking they were going to pick up their daughter and take her through these cold, unforgiving January elements, back to their warm home ... and both of them looked very ... small.

"Why is the fire department here?" Buttercup's mom asked her husband weakly, and as I passed, I could actually feel the aura of fear surrounding them as they huddled together, meekly negotiating their way through the parking lot toward the cold brick tomb where their still, lifeless daughter lay surrounded by two hundred voyeuristic spectators.

Buttercup's parents didn't need me to tell them that something had gone horribly wrong. They could feel it with every fiber of their being.

"Why is the fire department here?" the wife repeated, clinging to her husband.

"It's ... it must have something to do with them," he replied, pointing to the adjacent county sheriff's satellite station, but he was lying, to himself as much as his wife. True, it was cold out there, but not as cold as Buttercup's parents were feeling as they walked, surely for the last time ever, toward the front doors of the ice arena. I passed them without a word.

Try as I did, I was unable to find a single web site devoted to dead teenage girls. Maybe there are some illegal, underground sites created by pedophilic necrophiliacs, but that was not at all what I had in mind.

So I finally found a subject that, pardon the pun, hasn't been done "to death" on the Internet. If I do find others like this site, or if others are subsequently created, I'd really like to start a "dead teenage girls" webring.

But let's try to be responsible, and limit the content to teenage girls who died of diseases, accidents, suicide ... even parental neglect ... anything other than out-and-out murder. The last thing we need is some sicko offing innocent girls just to see the details of his crimes posted on a web site. Like I said, there are some very twisted individuals who use the Internet. Trust me.

This site is still under construction, but since you've read this far ... you just might appreciate some of these links:

December 2000: The age of patients with anorexia nervosa appears to be getting younger with cases being diagnosed in girls as young as eleven years of age. Anorexia nervosa is the third most common chronic illness, and has the highest mortality rate of any functional psychiatric illness. Click here for Bodycage - The World of Eating Disorders Exposed.

August 1999: Doctors found a clump the size and shape of a rugby ball in the abdomen of seventeen-year-old Rachel, who had a habit of chewing on her hair. The consultant surgeon said: "In my thirty-year career I have only once seen a hairball like this, and that was just a third of this size." Click here for Girl Died from Eating Her Hair.

July 1999: Agents in South Dakota were assigned to investigate the circumstances surrounding the death of a young female inmate at the State Training School in Plankinton. She was able to keep up with the group for the first hundred yards of a run/walk exercise course, but then dropped out and stated that she couldn't do it anymore. Staff members told her that there is no such thing as "can't" and were yelling at her to keep going and to show effort. The girl's response was "a kind of sniffling" and saying she couldn't go on. Click here for Teenage Girl Run to Death in SD Boot Camp.

November 1998: The mother of a fifteen-year-old girl was arrested after her daughter was brought to the hospital weighing only about fifteen pounds. Police say the girl seemed malnourished. Click here for Dead Girl, 15, Weighed 15 Pounds.

March 1998: According to a CPS report, Edith, fifteen, of San Ysidro, California stopped breathing after a psychiatric worker "laid over" her to restrain her at Desert Hills Center for Youth and Families. She died two days later. Click here for Girl suffocates during restraint.

I hope to have a photo gallery up soon, but I've found a disappointing lack of photos of dead teenage girls available through the conventional search engines. Please send any dead teenage girl photos, as well as links or personal accounts, to

smithbrad@nventure.com

Remember, if your photos, links or stories are the result of intentional murder, don't bother to send them, as they will not be posted here (or on any site that is linked to this one).

And, as long as your fantasies don't include killing teenage girls, hell yes, send me your fiction. Suicide, cancer, parental neglect ... use your imagination. Just try to keep it all within the bounds of good taste.