Journals of a Psychopath



Insanity and more insanity in my novel.

The Haven

      “The Timber Figures and the Archangel do love you,” the Presenter said.
Release scurried through. I believed the Purifiers and the Darkest-One were my enemies.
Reasoning on the bond, which had nearly ended, I concluded the Trees, the Archangel and the Speaker had proved their worth. I closed the doors of the shrine and my footsteps were quiet. Smithson was worried, as we trekked, he glanced at me every so often.
      “Father we are nearing the farmstead.”
      “There is no need to inform me about matters I already know.”
      “I am sorry father.”
      “Just be quiet I am thinking.”

The Homestead

Rhea gripped the glass it was full of vodka, and appeared to sparkle. I deliberated about the next statement.
      “Elaina is having my kid.”
She moved the glass to her lips and swallowed. She jumped from the chair and slapped me across the face. Caldwell came in he inspected my eyes fiercely. I rushed into the great hall.
      “Where are you going? All these years I supposed Jayne was my concern.”
I engendered a speedy pace, but Rheanna pressed forward.
      “Clarkson I adore you please will you stay?”
Overlooking her and she went into a junior high fit, tossing an ornament, she crumpled into a heap. Caldwell was in front of me. Rhea ran ahead of us, stumbled out of the farmstead, and into the front seat of the Buick. Running to the car and Caldwell pulled Rheanna from it. I compelled her back into the hall into the restroom. I dunked Rheanna’s cranium in the toilet repeatedly. When Rhea and I came from the restroom, Caldwell examined her sopping wet hair he clenched his hands.
      “You are deplorable,” he said.

The Isolation Chamber

Smithson hovered above the diaphanous intimate and apparel he stroked the soft material. Whooshing to the freezer, he heaved the lid Smithson considered the contents.
      “Leanne is exquisite.”
His scrutiny was intent. Struggling to ease her from the ice-cabinet and the corpse was solid.
      “Leanne is as awkward in death as she was in life,” I said.
She amused Smithson, while I sewed tinier silver stars onto the Lady Flarice's gowns. Lifting an ice pick, he began to chip at the frozen body, and Smithson was entertained.

The Shrine

Smithson and I slept we became restless. We roused, studying the Lady Flarice she was drinking alcohol.
      “She is stunning,” he said.
      “The Lady Flarice will never be yours.”
Smithson seemed dissatisfied, I wondered if he desired her, he saw the look in my vista-orbs, and he lowered his viewing-disks.

The Pit Stop

Smithson was sullen and he inspected, when Rhea slouched up the steps, Perry was abashed. I jogged up the stairs to make sure Rheanna acquired some alcohol. Perry hoisted his arms to prove he was not touching her.
      “Give Rhea the liquor,” I said.
Perry unlocked the draw, he passed her the bourbon, grasping it, Rhea staggered down the steps, and she glared at Elaina, she was at the doors.
      “Elaina is here,” Chadwick said.
“Sort your love life out, no wonder Rhea uses liquor for solace,” Perry said.
      “Are you envious?”
Running down the steps, I started work. Elaina found the courage to come in my domain, she was slow to reach her goal, and Elaina inspected my tendons move.
      “I missed you,” she said.
She analyzed me, I gloated involving Elaina’s admiration, in a way I had never appreciated Rheanna's regard.

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