mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
48 lines
2.1 KiB
TeX
48 lines
2.1 KiB
TeX
\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
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\chapter{I Venture Down the Path}
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Militant. That is what I was, militant. Or was I insane? Inhuman?
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Demonic? I was created by militancy. Created with the emotions of hate
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and anger. Born with the desire to kill. Muscular cular and
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wild. Intelligent and lethal. Born and created with the love of
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suffering. The lust for dangerous highs. Fueled by the rushes of
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hate. Non-narcotic but just as addictive. The passion of no
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compassion. Murder at will with the utmost impunity.
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Impunity succeeds with the victim unwanted or uncared for. For instance,
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taking the life of a drifter, or homeless person. My prey was of that
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type which would succumb to me.
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My shadowy facial and bodily features were exposed to the filtered
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light. A streetlight's glow was seen through the many halls and
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passageways of the certain domains of the different entities of this
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cruel world. My victim was approaching.
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Some old, drunken man was walking down the alley. He was singing the old
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folk song, ``I Venture Down the Path.''
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I held the sides of my apparel so that the wind of the night could not
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flutter it. I stepped forward. My ductile muscles bulged with the
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anticipation of the rush. My teeth were observable as a smile presented
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itself upon my lips.
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The reeking man walked into me, for his drinking had impaired his
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vision. He stopped in the middle of his wretched song as he cursed me
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for being in his way. Hatred arose from my demonic soul as the man
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proceeded with his vulgar and insulting language.
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``I'm quite sorry,'' I snarled to the drunk.
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``You b-better b-be,'' he belched, releasing his foul breath.
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``Friend, it is you that I am sorry for,'' I bellowed.
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His expression was inquiry as I began to beat the poor fellow. He
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staggered and fell as I brutally struck him. My heart was alive with the
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beautiful feeling of hate and love; the love of hate.
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I stood up. The deed was done. I sucked in the night air and felt it
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flow through my body. The rush slowed as I wiped the blood from my
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knuckles. I began down the alley, the tune of ``I Venture Down the Path''
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whistling from my lips\ldots
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