Journals of a Psychopath.

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A brief peek inside my novel.

Fleur

Inking her name on the scroll and the calligraphic penmanship was elaborate. I savored what she would bequeath, when she removed the pollution, and justified me by her agony. Fleur’s elfin-shaped face was surrounded with a shock of silvery-blonde hair and her body perfect. Her breasts soft balls of milky skin. Massaging perfumed oil on my body and I dressed in the ensemble. Grooming Fleur’s hair, I cogitated suitably concerning her pain. Slicing Fleur’s genitalia with the sword, the squeals tore from her larynx. The gore smeared the cloak and seemed to possess jagged edges. Hacking her neck and she experienced utter pain before the head slipped from her shoulders. Bowling a few inches from the corpse, the head stopped, and the wind lifted the strands shielding the severed skull.

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