Scarleton Series I : Before the Cult Read Online Free PDF

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you, you will be able to feel the journey and that the pain is
equivalent to the road in some instances). To dwell about is
endless torture; each creature deserves to be in a place where it
rightfully belongs, its habitat. A place of belonging is an
integral part of one’s person-hood. If it is death it takes to feel
like a person, even remotely, then death is what we shall accept
with an immeasurable joy and gratitude. The quest to attain our
person-hood is not an easy one, it is not without sin or evil.
    The blade of
the sword sunk into his bicep like a blazing knife through a cold
block of butter, it was just a slit.
    Sweet sweet
beautiful blood , I gasped mesmerised at its sight. Excited.
    The sample
flinched into consciousness. “Oh shit! “
    “It’s about
time you woke up,” Macfearson spoke. “We’ve been waiting ever so
patiently.”
    “Shit! Fuck!
Sandy, what is this?” He tried tugging his left hand off the wall,
unsuccessfully so. He was cuffed with beast depowering iron cuffs
attached to the stone cobbled wall, hinges reinforced into the
wall. His ankles suffered the same fate. We had stripped him off,
spread him like a canvas. Our own little Jesus.
    “Sandy, you
bitch! You sick freak! Fuck you!” he raged, I loved watching his
belly tremble as he did. “Help! Help!”
    Macxermillio
comically looked around. “Huh? Looks like nobody cares. Or is it
that they can’t hear you?” He cackled with an almost lunatic
revelry.
    “Help! Help !
Hel- “Macfearson punched him in the stomach.
    “Why do you
think you’re not gagged? “ Macfearson rhetorically asked, glaring
at him.
    Macxermillio
was behind me on a crate of beer, sipping on a 750ml. The place was
wrecked and had been abandoned for years unknown to us. Dirt
accumulated on the floor, collapsing ceiling spilling its insides,
mould, woodpile scattered around, bins, paper and plastic. The
Sampling Chamber, as we had named it, was Macxermillio’s find. Far
away from the city or the lifelings . Perfect for a sampling
ritual. It was dark and gloomy with just enough light for a deathling to dwell in, which was little light (that was how
we preferred it). I could sense generations of ghosts of the
persons who once stayed on the abandoned farm scampering about and
watching us, lonely spirits of the country side being treated to
some horror style entertainment every time we visited. If they
cowered in repulsion or horror, it was way better than the decades
of boredom and un-eventfulness that this place was accustomed
to.
    “You freak!
You’re mad you know that?” He continued, “What you gonna do? Kill
me? “
    “It’s actually
weird that you are asking me this question when you have always
known the answer. Do you remember what you said to your mates?” I
softly spoke my eyes fixed on the blood, felt the hurt, anger and
hatred towards him simmer like pins and needles.
    He did not
respond, only wriggled and panted hopelessly.
    “Either way,
don’t you think it’s a bad idea for a person in your situation to
be so mean?”
    Silence.
    “Let me remind
you ,” my voice mellow to my ears, every word making my compulsion
and anger worse, “You told me, in front of your mates , that if I
go on a killing spree to remember to spare you. Now why would you
believe that and always managed being an ass to me? Belittle me,
humiliate me in front of others?”
    “I was joking,
just messing around. You know how the guys are. That’s what guys
do, I did not mean tune you, Sandy!” he spluttered.
    “And I didn’t
mean to get hurt,” A dark smile flickered across my face. This was
exhilarating every time, never got used to it. “Answer honestly.
You have always seen me as a freak, right?”
    “C’mon, man,
let’s not do this!” He wept.
    We devoured the
moment, the moment of complete power over another person’s
will.
    “You are a
freak! Fuck, you not even one bit human! You are insane! “He
shrieked.
    I am not
human , I cognitively