Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The timing had to be perfect. The peak of his sensation had to endure a sterling period of climax before the execution. He had the thirst of a predator…watching and observing his targets, he regarded himself a friendly stalker.

Usually, he handled things himself. The lotus henchman was a new development. He came from money, and unlike normal fancy, ripped boys, he had his own issues. He had odd infatuations. Yes, he had seen Psychiatrists, mostly in his teens…he wasn't the expressive type; he didn't torment cats and create little fires around properties, he was the passive aggressive type, with his own hungry demons.

By twenty-one, after finishing college and having his share of heartthrob flings with girls and women both of whom were either his age or above. He prided himself in a Casanova conquest of sexual exploits; not allowing himself to get tacky with his leash. He decided to pursue his inner addictive, but meticulously hidden cultist desires. All the therapeutic sessions he had with his renowned psychiatrists helped repress them for some years, just waiting to explode into fits of serial rage. This rage had no discrimination, distinguishing targets as to be treated in an executive fashion based on a friendly zone or a stranger level instance. They just suggested, like a whisper of an onset of a culture, where there be offering of sacrifices to an unknown entity and eerie ritualistic danceable offertories, strange to an alien eye.

He established for himself a realistic space containing the inner fantasies of this unknown culture, creating a cat and mouse game, going back and forth in an infinite cradle. The thought of crafting an ingenious plan, with events suggesting a recruitment of at least, a likeminded "genius" like him, set him on a yogi-like self-discovery.

Whilst reading Dr. Sheldon Sherman's book on "The Ecclesiasts of the Western Cultural Revolution", he chanced on the catalogue number stamp, the small feature at the binding edge of many published books with the black lines like strokes pointing to numbers suggested to make sense to the library professionals. He stared at it with his head half-crooked like an amphibian observing the sunset, and locked on an epiphany… that was how he was going to recruit, a supranatural minded being, who with the pull of the ever expanse universe would be his loyal subject…..