Journals of a Psychopath



Horrific, cruel, and insane that's my psychopath.

The Isolation Chamber

Arranging the elegant gowns and Smithson approved. He took hold of the flattening board, turning the robes inside out, he procured a damp cloth, Smithson, lovingly skimmed the iron over each layer.
      “I am sorry father I must leave you for a while I will be back soon.”
      “Where are you going?”
      “I must take that stupid exam mother has entered me for.”
I could have insisted that Rhea stop educating him, but then Jessie would leave the farmstead, and she was an added bonus.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Mother was ferocious in her approach to grief, the funeral was somber, Hanson was in an open casket, and his face was similar to wax. The preacher closed the lid. Charlenson spoke at the graveside and her voice vibrated emotionally. In the wheelchair she read from the notes on her knees, she delivered Hanson a eulogy he should deserve, but did not. Arrayed in black, mother's vision-disks were dry. Her hair was concealed by an ebony hat, and a dark lace veil masked mother’s face. She fixed her steely gaze onto me (All female-spheres appeared as though they were the vista-disks of mother, they would plague me until the day I died.) Sometimes at night when I close my sight-orbs, all I can see are the steel-gray orbs peering. Mother’s actions blighted my life and I would never forgive her. Charlenson was very upset mother stared.
      “Stop whining girl.”
      “I cannot help it mother.”
      “You are weak,” mother replied.

A Journey to Crow Forks

Joining the other folk on their journey, the bus climbed the road, the landmarks were visible, I was on my way to Crow Forks, and the scenery was wintry. The driver was slight and he sported spectacles, his eyes were magnified by the strength of the lenses. Unoccupied the seat next to me was worse for wear. At the next boarding station, a chick got on, and her hair was silvery-blonde, my awareness was alert. A little too fat for my liking, but her body would do, Jodi’s mammary glands the size of undersized melons, and her skin fudge-colored. She marched down the aisle and sat in the seat next to me.
      “Hey, are you on a business trip?” I asked.
She bent her head I leaned to Jodi and she was interested I could tell.
      “Yes I am.”
Her name was printed on the briefcase Jodi Duggan. She sensed I was gawking, but she did not respond, when I spoke again she answered. Jodi was alluring and I passed her my cell number she was puzzled.
      “Dial me,” I said.
      “I might.”
I knew she would call her curiosity would ensure that she did, all women were the same fair game.

The Segregation Cell

It was prepared and the Lady Flarice’s gowns ready for her body to wriggle into them. The pure white silk-lace drapes arranged in flawless folds. Creating and designing her headboard, I decorated it with pure white silk, and the segregation cell was of the highest standard, the manacles checked. Smoothing the robe and recollecting the vulture who had attacked me, he attempted to feed on the sacrifice, and scraped his talons down my skin. When I intervened, I remembered the screech, as he endeavored to defy his last-breath, the cadaver was owned by me, no lea-way was granted to the marauder, and his back snapped.
“What happened? How did you get the scar? It is different from the others.”
      “A winged raider tried to feast off the sacrifice and I soon sorted him out.”
Dancing side by side and Smithson imitated my every move, at that moment I was fulfilled.
      “The Trees and the Archangel are worthy and we will carry out the mission,” we sang.
Our voices sounded as if in church and our feet lightly touched the concrete, the decorated garments relocated with the repositioning of our bodies. Soaring into the air and Smithson punched the unseen life force.


      “I have murdered Gracelyn's guy and I am worried,” Pep said.
He quaked in his office chair.
      “Will they find out it was you?”
      “No, I covered my tracks with an alibi.”
Gracelyn ran into the gas station.
      “Someone has killed my man was it you?”
      “I did not murder him yet I wanted to.”
He leaned in his chair and Gracelyn analyzed Perry he looked convincing.
      “I would do anything to get you back,” Perry said.
      “Does that include the death of my man?”
      “No of course I would not do such a terrible thing, especially, because I know you love him.”
Perry offered to track Bart's last movements and ask around if anyone had seen anything, Gracelyn was thankful, and Perry beamed.
      “Just give me a minute and I will go with you we will ask together.”
She was surprised and she agreed. Perry and Gracelyn departed from the gas station and he slipped his arm around her, she did not protest, rather she began to sob. He endeavored to get Gracelyn back in his life. Harry shrugged his shoulders he was exasperated with Perry and he was annoyed.

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