Journals of a Psychopath



Clarkson and Smithson the psychotic ones.


      “You ought to sort Rheanna out you brought her down to a level she cannot cope with,” Perry said.
      “Rhea's family name will be eradicated.”
      “Rheanna’s old man must die first.”
      “I will assist him if the opportunity comes up.”
      “You are an ass-hole Clarkson.”
      “I am only taking care of my son's inheritance.”
      “He is more nuts than you are.”
He saw my hands compact.
      “I am sorry for the disrespect to your son.”
Smithson was privileged and Caldwell Enterprises would keep him financially secure, one day soon, Smithson would be the Chief Executive. Perry saw the vacant expression, he knew I was dreaming about my son and his future, I had bored Perry with the aspirations for my son, I knew Smithson would not disappoint. The obedience was ingrained into him from a child. Pep removed the bourbon from the drawer and he filled our glasses to the brim.

The Isolation Chamber

In my hand, I grasped the silver stars, the intention to darn the silver stars on her genitalia and nipples. Inching through the eye of the needle and the silver thread was fine. She howled with anguish, when I pierced the tip of her mammary gland.
      “It hurts terribly.”
The Lady Flarice sobbed and clutched her breasts.

The Wooden Forms and the Darkest-One

The Timber Figures were titillated to see us. Updating them on the progress of the Lady Flarice, the Woodlander Forms grinned. Sparking the conflagration, Smithson and I whirled the Archangel was peaceful.

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