I See You, Jack! Chapter 15
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I See You, Jack!
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Chapter 15
His very world had changed!
He had been chosen not in spite of his appetites, but because of them. Someone at last had appreciated his blog, wasn't disgusted by his musings, his imagination, his fantasies. Now he had the means to fulfil even his darkest urges.
Sitting in that over-hot room, listening to his instructions, poring over the notebook.
The notebook!
Each page filled with handwritten descriptions of acts so divine, so outrageous, they made him salivate, the images (seemingly separate to the words, but somehow fitting) stirred his very soul. Sublime, simply sublime. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have thought of this.
And now, not only was he being offered the chance of bringing the pages of the book to life, not once but twice over, he would also be rewarded with a gift so miraculous his mind struggled to comprehend.
Two Great Rituals, and his world would change forever.
He would no longer haunt the foul corners of the Web, misunderstood and scorned by those who should be admiring his vision. Instead, he would be magically transported, to be present to witness great acts. Perhaps experience first-hand the delights that all of history had to offer.
The first was disappointing. But it was not his to judge who was Worthy.
He'd entered the room, dimly lit by lamplight coming through the thin curtains, her nakedness prompting revulsion. Again, how could this tawdry woman be Worthy?
The girl was barely conscious, obviously a user of some form of narcotic. Heroin addict?
The hypodermic still hung from her veins. Even he could not get excited about abusing this practically unconscious disciple of the poppy. He regretted he wouldn't get to hear her plead, voice her fear, scream her pain.
What a waste. But he had a deal to complete.
He took out the notebook, studying the instructions, although each image had been burned into his memory from the first moment he'd seen them.
But he felt no rapture, no sense of righteousness or power, as he unfolded the razor from the pearl handle.
She never so much as flinched as he began. Didn't scream in appreciation of the exquisite agony, as his fingers manipulated her throat.
He'd taken the silver-coloured cylinder his benefactor had held out to him. Twisted the side, propelling the contents outwards.
Tracing the cut with crimson, her throat bubbled, air mixing with blood, as her life flowed from her.
Once more, he referred to the notebook, comparing the images to his works.
Satisfied the Ritual had been performed satisfactorily, he wiped the blade on the filthy sheets, and left the squalid room.
In the hallway he paused in the darkness, the muffled cries of an infant coming from one of the rooms.
His new Angel had forbidden any contact with the child.
The first deed was done, no further souls were needed, at least on this night.
He was mightily tempted by this unexpected opportunity but knew he had sworn to stick rigidly to his instructions.
Mysterious ways, indeed!
