Journals of a Psychopath.

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Under his nails dried blood resides. His journal is spotted with gore.

The Wooden Forms and the Archangel

     “Earth to earth ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” I said.
Chopping Connor up and I cast his legs first, the rest of the body in the fire one piece at a time. The depression was so thick and the shroud pertaining to misery pervaded the area. Slouching in the direction of the Woodlanders and the Archangel, bowing down, my heart was somber, the purification had not attended I was dirtier than before. The Purifiers and the Archangel targeted my back I allowed them to whip me. Obedient in the welcome of penance the chastisement harsh and the compensation for the Misfortune Keepers was met. The Trees and the Darkest-One bent down saw the stripes.
      “Your chastisement has triggered forgiveness,” the Purifiers and the Darkest-One said.

The Homestead

      “Father is agitated,” Rheanna said.
      “Your father is always stressed out.”
      “Please show him some respect?”
      “If it means we can sex.”
      “Sure I am always ready for you.”
Grabbing Rhea and taking her upstairs. I pushed into her, she experienced the release, Rhea reveled in the sex, and regarding her body, Rheanna had become thickset.
      “Oh baby,” Rheanna said.
Rhea cleaved to me and her body relocated automatically, she squirmed. When I was done, I sprinted down the stairs. Caldwell glanced over his hardback-book and he turned the page.
      “It is time you set forth from us,” he said.
      “I will leave when I am ready.”
Rhea came down the stairs slowly and Caldwell glanced up, he smiled at his daughter.
      “I do not want Clarkson to depart from us,” she said.

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