Journals of a Psycchopath

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In my novel you will find many twists and turns.

Tending to Rheanna and Elaina was concerned. Caldwell was behaving comparatively to a sentinel. On the table, a bottle of liquor, and a strong coffee rested. Maintaining the effort to sober Rheanna and Elaina coaxed, but Rheanna was just as determined to drink. Coming down the staircase and into the doorway, Jessie was wary, Rheanna's eyes concentrated on her they were bloodshot. She squinted in an effort to see.
      “What do you want?”
      “I do not require anything at all.”
      “Why are you gawping?”
      “I sense you could use some support.”
      “You want to shag him.”
      “So, he is bedding the tutor and the bitch who brought my daughter back to the family farm,” Caldwell said.
      “It gets worse Elaina is pregnant.”
She scowled and Elaina's face flushed, she sank on the couch.
      “You deserve someone much better than him,” Caldwell said.
      “I love Clarkson and my life is pointless if it is without him. He is Smithson’s father and I am privileged to have given birth to his son.”
      “My father is not responsible for my silly mother.”
      “You should stop talking in that way about your mother,” Caldwell said.
“From a small boy my mother drank herself into oblivion and I witnessed years of drunken behavior, but my father has supported her,” Smithson replied.

The Lady Flarice’s House

      “Lady Flarice in pure white silk-lace,” Smithson chanted.
He had listened for years pertinent to her. She stirred and I fondled the flawless skin, the Lady Flarice opened her vision-spheres, and closed them. She settled on the soft pillows, I watched.
      “My father's Lady Flarice.”
He danced. Whispering Lady Flarice’s name, I gripped her hand, and she clasped mine with her small one. Swooshing outside the skylight, the black-angels inspected the semi-light room, and their orbs, similar to circles of fire.
      “She is rousing,” Smithson said.
He focused on the Lady Flarice's vista-orbs. Transferring into the shadow and she gazed around the room. Flapping their wings, the black-angels flew from the window, Smithson and I watched them recede, until they became small dots in the sky.
“Father I do not wish to be in the lower world can we stay in the higher one?”
      “We must enter the lesser existence.”
Smithson was belligerent I did not approve.
      “We must obey you have been informed about this on frequent occasions.”
Smithson lowered his vision-disks and began to tap his feet.
      “Be quiet you will wake her.”
Smithson stopped fidgeting and I led him from her house.

The Homestead

Jessie hustled upstairs and I loped behind she tumbled on the bed.
      “You are so manly.”
She was desirable, I crashed on the bed, Jessie admired the silver stars implanted into my sex organ, and she kissed it. Battling and endeavoring to encounter the erogenous zones of the other, ready to join, her woman-place discharged the fluid necessary. I entered her and eying me, she scaled to fever pitch.
      “Clarkson come.”
I did as I was told and my male-weapon glistened when I removed it. Shouting and Rheanna pounded on the door. Rushing out, I escorted Rheanna to her room, and I tucked her up in bed. Caldwell walked in the direction of the study and I followed.
“We will drink some liquor I need you to get out of Rheanna's life.”
      “When you and your daughter pass over Caldwell Enterprises will be Smithson’s.”
Relocating to the bar and I decanted his bourbon. Tipping the bourbon down my throat and Caldwell sagged in the high-backed chair with grief, Caldwell’s hands concealed his face, I prized Caldwell’s hands from his visage, and victory emanated from my eyes.
      “Please just leave us alone?”
      “I will never do that you must know this by now it has been years and I am still here.”
      “I live in hope you will get bored with it all.”
      “Caldy you are crazy, how could I get wearied with the prospect of all your lovely money?”
      “If Rheanna was disinherited you would leave.”
      “Oh, please that is never going to happen.”

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