Journals of a Psychopath



How many times will Clarkson sacrifice?

The Haven

I watched Lady Flarice on the laptop every possible moment. The reliquary I manufactured notable, scutinising my heart hammered. Inspiring me to resume my duty and the Archangel slithered across. Elevating the significant ice-cabinet door, taking the ear, I pressed it to my lips. Clasping the ear and it thawed some. I slotted the earring from the cold lobe into my own. (The sacrifice was a failure. However, I sheared the ear anyway,) the blood presented as tainted a life dwindled inside her belly. Skimming through my Journal and I found her birth- name it was Jocelyn.
      “Please do not hurt my baby.”
      “Which is it to be your death or the child’s?”
Slamming her chest with the hilt of the sword and Jocelyn’s trunk collapsed. Lacerating the womb, I pulled it out, lifting the blue thing it was slippery, covered with blood and slime.

Old Jeb

Maude his wife lurched onto the forecourt, her face was craggy. Clipping old Jeb’s ear and the flesh swathing her arm wobbled when Maude struck him. Maude glanced over I was lounging against a car I glowered.
“You are seeing someone, Betty Sue saw you give a girl a note.”
Maude’s jowls quivered.
      “I did not do that why would I want someone else?” old Jeb replied.
      “Do you recall the young woman I asked you to give my message to?” I asked.
Jenny Lee the broad under discussion rambled over. Curvaceous her body seemed perfect and Jenny Lee’s eyes were large, ocean-blue, twinkled in the light. She uttered no protest when I led her to the rear. Crashing onto her knees, Jenny Lee kissed my manhood. Assigning my lips to her vagina, Jenny Lee closed her eyes, and the orgasm erupted. Afterward, she wanted to spend time with me, and irate, because a mistake occurred, I edged towards the workshop.
      “Can we meet again Clarkson?”
      “No you are not suitable.”

The Woodlander Warriors and the Darkest-One

Plunging onto my knees, experiencing admiration, shifting from side to side, the hard-hearted is the bounty. Lifting my arms, a sense concerning glory filled my body. Elevating my skull the inner scream reached my power of speech. Beads of sweat dotted my brow, exhilaration and angst beset. The Trees extended to full capacity, the snow collapsed from the branches. Examining the white flakes floating to the ground, relating to small white tears, I applauded.
Shambling to me, the Archangel elevated his bony hands and the skin stretched taut across them, I could see purple bulbous veins. Indicating with his sharp talons and the Darkest-One grimaced.
      “Your life is not your own,” he said.
      “I am aware of that.”
      “If you are so conscious concerning your role, why do you veer from the indicated path?”
      “I do not understand.”
      “Sacrificing in the isolation chamber is frowned upon, if it was my call I would punish you, but the Purifiers and me must agree on all decisions,” the Archangel said.
His claws waved in the air and I endeavoured to see the face that he did not own.
“It will not happen again.”







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