Journals of a Psychopath.

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The insanity crawls inside his mind causing the actions to come to pass. Clarkson the psychpath, the one.

The Lady Flarice

Knocking her door and she let me in she beamed, the tension in me built as if a volcano, I was rigid in mind and body. Thoughts in my mind harangued constantly and the fixation seemed alive.
      “Do not frighten her,” the Voice said.
The Lady Flarice appeared to soar high in the sky and the sun blazed on her iridescent winged projections. Shimmering akin to gemstones and matching her crystal flying silks, the elegant pure white silk mantle fluttered. Coming back to earth and I stroked Lady Flarice’s hand, she allowed contact for a moment, but she wriggled her hand free, harmony vanished, strain ruled. She gave a strange look and I noticed Lady Flarice's hair appeared glossy. Transferring from the couch, she poured more wine, she offered me some, I accepted and I beheld those green-eyes, I was mesmerized. Lady Flarice presented as unsure, she shambled across the room, and she showed her back, the time to leave arrived. One day, I would not leave her, unless the calling or business intervened. Exiting her home and she was relieved I knew she was chary.
“Nothing can avert the elements that are destined to be and my mission is rock-solid,” I said.
“It is guaranteed we can see into the future,” the Speaker replied.

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