There is so much in our world.
So many things.
So many people.
So many different kinds of people.
So many personalities.
So many dangerous objects.
So many different ways to die.
There are hundreds upon thousands of different ways of doing things. Of handling situations.
Of torturing people.
Have you ever thought of torturing, killing, murdering, a person?
- And no, yourself doesn't count. You are way too precious to be hurt, to be handled in a bad way. You should be, at least, the one in charge of the whole procedure. The one in control.
I'm speaking of someone you hate. Of a being you despise with a horrifying amount of passion. From the bottom of your soul.
Do you have anyone?
- If not, then good for you. Less intruding thoughts that invade your mind throughout the day. Less gory daydreaming that leaves you in a satisfied yet frustrated state.
- If so, don't feel urged to harm them just yet, only because I mentioned it. Take your sweet time, plan every step and think ahead, be aware, and always, I mean always, have your guard up around them. Show them your false facade, the mask your wearing for them to see. Don't ever show your real intentions.
You may be wondering why I am addressing this topic, but it's quite simple:
I have enemies. Of course, I do.
There are people who I hate and who hate me. There will always be and I'm fine with that. I don't give a shit about them. Why should I. They are nothing to me and I am nothing to them. Still, we hate each other with a passion.
Now imagine; I am the Author.
I have power. A lot of it. I have the power of making people bend to my will to a certain degree. To do things to them. Horrible things, if I want to. And there is no way out of it once I have captured my subject, or protagonist, as I like to call them. There is no way in hell for them to untangle themselves from the web I have spun around them.
I can break them, mentally, physically, however I want it to be.
I am the one in control.
I am the Author.
I am the author of sick, twisted and turned stories my readers yearn for.
I get to penetrate those who harmed me and make profit of it.
They love it.
They love the things I write and publish.
They long for it.
And once my audience will break apart, I'll make them come crawling back to me, begging for more like the drug addicted beings they are, only that their drug is me.
Me and me alone.
Come on. Try me.
I'll be waiting for you to take the first step.
I'll be sitting here, in my cabin, being the hated ego for the things I've done. I will be writing when you arrive. A magnificent story.
A story about the things I will do to the people who have harmed others and deserved to be punished.
A story about the innocent soul that became a victim of mine, being slowly knitted into a web of illusions.
A story about the things I'm capable of.