Journals of a Psychopath.



Another look into my novel

The meetings eerie and the torments the victims endured generally performed at the sacred site. At Blackclaw Woodlands, I discovered short-term relief from the anger for silvery-blonde-haired women.
“Countless culprits are needed the preferred ones purify your soul,” the Trees and the Archangel said.
A scream could be heard and it was mine, the neurosis esoteric, it crawled into my psyche, and rotted my mind.

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