101 Psychos

#2 - Crucified Curses

Psycho #2 - Crucified Curses -

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A Tale of Religious Fanaticism:

Refers to individuals exerting an extreme zeal or enthusiasm for religious beliefs. Often placing their ideas above people, condemning all who don't agree, or performing extreme rituals not accepted by society.

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I watched the woman as she slept peacefully, unaware of the sentencing about to be carried out. The pentacle necklace she wore rested on her chest neatly, rising and falling rhythmically along with her breath. She laid on the crude wooden cross I'd fashioned for her earlier in the afternoon. I studied the woman and as I did I wondered if she could appreciate the favor I was doing her soul.

I admired her dark brown hair, flawless ivory skin, and voluptuous figure. She was beautiful no doubt, but she was also a servant of Satan. Of course her appearance was part of the overall deception, a trick to keep righteous men like me from doing what needed to be done.

Don't allow her to fool you, this needs to be done. I reminded myself.

I had all morning to prepare her punishment and did so with the blessing of God himself. This woman flaunted her heathen ways to the townsfolk, wearing that satanic symbol with shameless pride. I even overheard her "explaining" her "beliefs" to one of my own flock. It was appalling.

I was the communities priest. It was my job to protect the citizens from such evil individuals, to keep them safe from the Devil's influence. A demon worshipper would move to town every year or so, wishing to settle there due to the thick forests surrounding. It was no secret that these heretics held paganistic rituals in such areas but they never succeeded in my town. It was my job to remove the threat before they could summon their abominations, and so I did. Each one I vanquished filled me with the Lords essence, allowing me to feel the touch of Jesus Christ within.

I glanced around. The woods were mostly silent, with only a couple squirrels bickering nearby and a few birds chattering in the distance. I inhaled the clean, pine tree air and relished in the calmness of the moment. Hunting season was long over and it was too chilly for camping. I doubted anyone would stumble upon the clearing, or hear her screams for mercy.

I sighed as I lifted a larger than normal nail and mallet while kneeling over the enticing witch. Positioning the blissful woman's arm to lay across the cross, I placed the nail between the tendons of her wrist. Looking into her sleeping face once more, I prepared myself for the chaos to follow my actions. I raised the mallet above my head, asked God for the strength to see my task through, and buried the nail into both flesh and wood with one powerful strike.

The woman woke instantly while a shrill screech escaped her mouth. In her waking panic, she tried to yank her arm free but succeeded in only tearing at the fresh wound. She cried out louder as the agony of her violent movements took it's toll, but still she pulled against the cross. Blood began forcing itself from around the rusted metal, staining the wood below a dull red.

I walked to the other side, and grabbed her free arm. The witch had been too lost in her own pain and confusion to notice me before hand, but now she stared with wide, fearful eyes. She attempted to pull free from my grip, yanking and twisting against my firm hold in a desperate fashion. I was inevitably stronger though and so she failed. She also tried begging me to let her go, but I heard none of it as I pinned her second arm to the cross with another rusted nail.

The witch screamed and weeped relentlessly as I plunged yet a third nail through both her feet and the crosses thick wooden base. Her face contorted to reflect the anguish she was experiencing, ruining her once perfect features. She began thrashing against her restraints slightly, but sudden stopped after only a moment. The pain it caused her lacerations must have been too much to continue trying to escape, because she laid perfectly still again, whimpering quietly to herself. Blood seeped from her wounds at a steady rate then. The wooden cross absorbed each drop along with her sins.