Power, Beauty and Blood

By PEGUS

...there are dark, inner desires and impenetrable secrets buried deep within ALL of us! However, they are merely dormant.
Most dare not contemplate these or allow sinister desires to surface! Yet, shadowy passions lurk in menacing recesses of their gloomy souls and inhibited corners of their minds. It is fear of exposure that dominates. Fear condemns them to conceal disturbing obsessions. Such passions, though terrifying to others, are natural to some.
We, you and I, of a higher social and intellectual order, are unencumbered by conscience. We are undeterred by the concept of fear itself. Our purposes are beyond common understanding. Outsiders pry into our private world at their peril!
Hello, Journal!
Welcome to my world! I am endowed with beauty, select genetic inheritance and a thirst for warm human blood. It floods my soul...
Come indulge yourself in unrestricted freedom of thought, deeds of social cleansing and a clamour for personal righteousness...horrifying though such acts may appear to the uninitiated...J.K.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481788922

PEGUS

PEGUS is a tertiary graduate and a writer of fiction-fantasy, family drama and suspense thriller. He is a versatile musician and artist.

Book preview

Power, Beauty

& BLOOD

PEGUS

US%26UKLogoB%26Wnew.ai

AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

500 Avebury Boulevard

Central Milton Keynes, MK9 2BE

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

© 2013 PEGUS. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 4/17/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8890-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8891-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8892-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

An Entity Personal Entries: Restricted

An Obsessive Devotee

The Investigating Team What In Heaven’s Name…!  (A Year Later) 

Following Shadows

Dedication

Gideon

In Clouds And Dreams

The Year That Was  (Commencement Of A Nightmare) 

A Random Visit

An Encounter

Macabre Rhapsody  (Catalyst To An Enigma) 

Indicators

In Search Of Answers

Changes

Images

An Unscheduled Visit

A Glorious Night

Indications

Hello Journal…New Horizons!

A Puzzle

Into The Unknown

Joy And Consternation

Agony

An Act Of Murder

Sibling Love And Understanding

The Year In Question What In Heaven’s Name…!

Lament

Devastation And Despair

A Devotee No More

Revelation And Revenge

This is a work of fiction and does not represent any person/s or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

In loving memory of my mother, Dorothy Romauld…PEGUS

An Entity

Personal entries: Restricted

APR 10

…there are dark, inner desires and impenetrable secrets buried deep within ALL of us! However, they are merely dormant.

Most dare not contemplate these or allow sinister desires to surface! Yet, shadowy passions lurk in menacing recesses of their gloomy souls and inhibited corners of their minds. It is fear of exposure that dominates. Fear condemns them to conceal disturbing obsessions. Such passions, though terrifying to others, are natural to some.

We, you and I, of a higher social and intellectual order, are unencumbered by conscience. We are undeterred by the concept of fear itself. Our purposes are beyond common understanding. Outsiders pry into our private world at their peril!

Hello, Journal!

Welcome to my world! I am endowed with beauty, select genetic inheritance and a thirst for warm human blood. It floods my soul…

Come indulge yourself in unrestricted freedom of thought, deeds of social cleansing and a clamour for personal righteousness…horrifying though such acts may seem to the uninitiated.

The above, a short introduction, is to be followed by passages that may sound rather vague; persevere and you will be rewarded!

It is Nature and nurture, personal perceptions and life experience that account for the individual person. How else can I present myself to you if not with individual ideals and insights? I am an entity possessed of exceptional qualities and a unique character. I foresee no alternative manner in which I can acquaint myself with you other than who I really am! To do otherwise would be an exercise in deception and hypocrisy.

I promise your participation will result in immeasurably exciting adventures; such a quest will surpass incredible imaginings.

My secrets, I swear by one who is very dear to me, will enthral you. My writing, though descriptive revelations of my deeds, is in her honour. An exhilarating journey is about to commence! Inexplicable and unanticipated experiences lie in wait.

Regrettably, along this journey, there are sacrifices to be made by others.

Allow me to elaborate, albeit somewhat bluntly: the world is choking! Present day society is surrounded by degraded humans and the stench of their odour is irrepressible; one can barely breathe! There are disposable ‘candidates’ everywhere and some present in unacceptable human form. Society has been contaminated by the existence of such individuals, some male though mostly degenerate females! As a representative of my gender I find such degraded humans repulsive and an affront, not merely to me but to society as a whole.

An Obsessive Devotee

Nothing of any significance had ever occurred for Audrey Bourne until the day she found a Journal in a dumpster. It was an auspicious day! Her life was precariously balanced on the threshold of momentous change! Unknown to her, the purpose of her existence was to unravel! For the very first time significant events were at hand, though, she could not have imagined them in her wildest dreams.

***

Audrey had always considered her life sordid. She wondered why fate or creative decree had condemned her to obscurity and personal abuse. At school she was often teased for her name. On each and every occasion her name, Audrey Bourne was mentioned by a teacher or referred to in any vague manner, others collectively whispered ‘Ordinary Burns’. The students made characteristic hissing and crackling sounds as though a fire was in progress. Pupils would pass her by in groups as they whispered the unwanted label and giggle at her as they moved on.

If on rare occasions she raised a hand in class to question or to participate, sighs and humiliating gasps immediately filled the room as though a fire had just been extinguished. Instant and intense conversations would commence as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. This disruption would continue until she was either ignored by the teacher, or, she was silenced into submission.

Audrey was excluded from activities. When she approached a group the students walked away, to form once again, away from her presence. Teachers were tolerant though hardly ever encouraging or promoting of her ideas and suggestions. She offered help to other students in some vain attempt to belong; though, no sooner her help was not necessary, her presence was ignored. It was an established pattern and she had come to accept it. Her school grades were excellent, her work above others in content and quality but rarely, if ever, mentioned publicly.

A birth mark, that resembled a burn, covered the left side of her face extending from over the left eye to the middle of the left cheek. The disfigurement was hideous and she had come to accept that it was only one of several personal features she would always be recognised for. The rest of her face was pale, her cheeks badly scarred with bacterial infections from early childhood to teenage years. Scraggy reddish brown hair covered a poorly shaped skull that seemed out of proportion to the rest of her body. She had malformed and discoloured teeth that had grown disproportionately to each other. A dental adjustment, with braces and restraints, had done little to enhance her appearance. Other minor, nevertheless noticeable physical characteristics described her; they had accumulated into a collapsing self confidence as a consequence of childhood teasing and verbal schoolyard bullying.

Audrey Bourne did not possess a personal computer though access to the Internet was available on school equipment. Pages of abusive and derogatory remarks about her appeared regularly and not just by classmates, but strangers within the school system. Some were highly offensive, suggesting she should kill herself; the world, they insisted, would be a better place without her presence. Audrey had often considered medication prescribed for her mother. Massive doses were an easy way out and no one would miss her. She was not a coward by any reckoning. Audrey was physically strong, having assaulted boys her own age and older. She received temporary suspensions form school for doing so. However, it required courage she did not have to kill herself.

As a consequence she suffered long lonely hours of self condemnation and a deep regret that she was born. At times she justified the bullying she endured. She accepted that she may have engaged in similar obnoxious behaviour if the boot was on the other foot. Under different circumstances she considered that bullying, perhaps by her, would have been normal for those who deserved to be treated in anti-social ways.

Audrey’s mother, battered into chronic illness by unrelenting marital abuse, had passed away. Her violent father, his liver consumed by illicit alcohol and backyard drugs, had deserted her. Becoming a ward of the state was a terrifying consideration and she had hoped it would never happen. However, the alternative was not much better; she was abandoned in the care of an unwelcoming relative. She regularly stood by the window of her aunt’s house and gazed longingly in the direction of her abusive home. Despite the cruelty which she had been subjected to, it was the only real place where she ever belonged. She had endlessly endured the cries and screams of her mother, knowing they would never stop unless her father left or died. With her mother having succumbed to ill health and finally to death, the sounds of maternal weeping were now a haunting and disturbing melody.

Rarely a night would go by before she felt compelled to enter her aunt’s room, in vague memory of her mother, to see if her relative was asleep. The old hag rarely slept and appeared as strong as an ox. However, Audrey was aware that her aunt would eventually wither into physical dependence. In turn the old woman would have no one to care for her than the unwanted niece she was required to raise.

Audrey’s teenage years had become lost in the vagueness of time. Insignificant and fragmented memories of that period in her life barely lingered. From puberty to womanhood Audrey had grown into an adult without ever having had a single friend!

Audrey was myopic and condemned to wearing spectacles that did little to flatter her battered adult image. To avoid being noticed she walked with her head lowered; it was an acquired habit to shun the world or hide away from it. She occasionally glanced up to determine the uncertain path of life ahead. Her shoulders drooped from being overly self-conscious about her height, as she happened to be noticeably tall. She shuffled with her footsteps, taking care not to bump into others and shied away immediately if others happened to impede her way.

Audrey carried a large old leather bag, inherited from some forgotten family member. She held it in front of her as an assumed form of defence against an uncompromising and cruel world. Her clothes were carefully selected to convey a misconstrued image of bygone modesty. Her shoes were dusty though never unclean. She often walked down side streets to commute by bus and from the furthest stop between her place of residence and work. Seeking anonymity was preferable to accepting abuse.

Audrey Bourne did not belong to associations or clubs nor did she make attempts to socialise with others, within or out of her age group. The elderly aunt who had reluctantly cared for her, cloistered within the walls of some religious care centre, served as a weekend point of social attachments. There was little, if any, emotional need that accompanied Audrey on these visits; though, without them places of social interest to visit were hardly worth considering.

Her entertainment requirements were adequately catered for with books written by prominent female writers of earlier centuries. Curtained shelves discreetly concealed volumes she accessed in the privacy of her apartment in the late hours of night.

She was a clandestine devotee of European classical music. She indulged in this form of luxury through the aid of earphones, fearful, that others might discover her passion and sneer at her for it. Concert halls were beyond her financial reach. Mostly, she did not attend out of ingrained social fear, even if costs were within her budget. Her image would not appear in keeping with the company of more affluent and pretentious patrons who flaunted programme brochures in bright halls and venue corridors. She silently scoffed at financially successful people who accorded themselves association with higher pursuits, such as music or art, without having the intellectual capabilities to suit. She lamented that money guaranteed some people more than mere financial recognition and undeserving status in many ways.

Art galleries of any note were expensive to visit even though she made rare attempts to attend. She had amassed an enviable knowledge of classical, neo-classical painters, impressionists and modernist artists. Sadly, she could not share this secretive passion with any other person without having to endure the possibility of ridicule.

Hers was a closeted world of high intellect! Nothing could be more humiliating than to be frowned upon for her intellectual leanings. Her persona belittled her and her self esteem had never graduated beyond a deplorable level.

She was painfully aware that her personal image was not compatible with her intellectual inclinations. Her select leanings, however, were beyond the appreciation of those to whom nature had been physically more generous. Audrey Bourne was not compatible with the assumed requirements of an image conscious society! Conversely, the hypocrisies’ of society, as she perceived them, were inadequate to compliment her personal intellectual tastes! Whereas they pointedly and impolitely ignored her for visible reasons, she quietly excelled in the privacy of her mind. Audrey discovered great personal comfort in the intellectual world in which she existed.

Despite her feminine limitations and introverted nature Audrey Bourne was physically strong. She was once charged with severely assaulting a construction site worker who whistled at her and made derogatory remarks about her appearance. The charges were withdrawn by the man. He was strong and muscular in appearance! Embarrassed at the prospect of facing a court appearance and admitting to a humiliating beating by a female was not flattering to his masculine ego.

Audrey worked efficiently and productively at the remotest desk of a commercial establishment. She was surrounded by females; they lacked enthusiasm for work and were always invigorated by the prospect of the next riotous weekend. Audrey was the butt of regularly whispered jokes. She was referred to as ‘Miss Burn’, for the prominent birth mark on her face. She often did not bother to conceal her birth impairment with cosmetics.

However, her co-employees did refer to her for information and corrections in respect of commercial matters, as they carefully checked their personal appearance in pocket sized mirrors. Audrey, they grudgingly acknowledged, was highly capable in matters of commerce and current technology.

Having obtained the desired assistance, Audrey observed that they walked back to desks, swinging hips and suppressing giggles, as other office workers stifled laughter. Her silent contempt for them was as equal. She displayed her disrespect for them by explaining problems and solutions in an infantile manner which she considered suitable to their intellectual restrictions. As they laughed openly at her she sneered with her eyes at them for their limited mentality.

She was respected for her work capabilities by senior members of staff who, irrespective of that, preferred her to be located away from the sight of visiting clients. It suited her as she had little in common with fellow employees and lacked the confidence to deal with visitors.

Though licensed and very capable to do so, Audrey did not drive and had little need for her car. A ramshackle old vehicle sat patiently at street level, displaying a rusted condition. Its reluctant owner had considered the possibility of consigning it to the nearest scrap yard. However, she had never availed herself the opportunity to be rid of the vehicle. Perhaps, she thought, some extraordinary event might unfold one day when the need for a vehicle would arise.

Being seated in the company of ordinary people, within the confines of public transport, was to her liking. The drivers were familiar and some smiled. People of a lower socio-economic order were burdened with problems of everyday life and most barely noticed each other. They directed little attention to her as she shared nothing more than a passing smile with regulars. As usual, having travelled a short distance by the local bus, she negotiated her way on foot via back alleys to an insignificant block of apartments nearby.

***

It was early summer and late spring pollen choked the air. Her presence was not appreciated by fellow staff members as she sneezed endlessly from the time of her arrival at work. Audrey Bourne could not continue with duties and requested to leave early.

Sneezing uncontrollably, her eyes swollen with allergens and her nose dripping with watery mucous, she walked passed a large metallic dumpster in an alleyway. Her leather bag, inseparable from her person, was clogged with soggy tissues and she decided to empty it into the dumpster. As she lifted the lid she noticed an attractive hard cover Journal, buried amongst usual domestic rubbish, staring invitingly at her. The urge to rescue it was intense!

Her acquired sense of privacy prevented her from doing so; she could not extract the Journal out of the dumpster without compromising her personal sense of propriety. Audrey shut the dumpster by allowing the metallic lid to fall as noiselessly as possible as she walked away with reluctance. Hauntingly, there was a tempting invitation radiating from within the dumpster. Her steps were measured and she had hardly gained a few feet away. Audrey could not resist! She checked in both directions and assured herself that she was the sole person in the alleyway. Nevertheless, she approached the dumpster exercising well rehearsed caution. She was aware that it might appear unseemly, pulling something out of a common refuse container and self conscious, she was about to do so.

Lifting the lid carefully she examined the Journal in the dim light of the interior. As she had initially surmised, it was an elegant book and as such, some person of intellectual note had owned it. Audrey checked the alleyway for people once again. Satisfied she was unobserved she reached in and extracted the book out from under the crush of rubbish. As before, she shut the dumpster carefully, ensuring it did not settle with metallic sounds. A thumping or banging sound would attract attention and she would be observed for her guilt in collecting discarded material.

She sighed with relief, certain her actions had been conducted unnoticed!

In retrieving the Journal time had passed by without her having sneezed once! She was amazed. Spring had gone into hiding and early summer was suddenly being generous to her on the day. It seemed that her allergy could be controlled by the sheer power of the Journal!

The discovery, having been subjected to the confines of the dumpster, exuded a slight pungent odour. It was to be expected; it had been surrounded by all manner of rubbish. However, there were other qualities to the item that excited Audrey’s imagination. She examined the top and bottom of the elegant book and one side; the Journal was gold leafed! The spine was solidly constructed. It had the appearance of untold secrets concealed within and the possibility of unimagined romantic delights. Audrey had never encountered romance in her life except in intellectual literary renditions. Despite the smell of the dumpster a soft and subtle perfume exuded from the book. It would linger in her memory!

Audrey did not have to examine the item she had discovered to further extent. She was convinced that the Journal belonged to some person of an attractive and charming personal character and high intellectual perceptions. As such, it suited her intellectual disposition. She was assured the contents would reveal matters of significance and unfold fascinating secrets. She was entering a world of delectable fantasy, with beauty and intellect as a combination. Her allergen soaked eyes sparkled with delight! It was a fantastic find, even if the excitement was to last for a limited period.

She recalled the last time she had found something. It was a coin she misguidedly presented to her father for approval. It was snatched away from her childish hands and she was accused of theft. She had protested tearfully that it was not taken from his wallet. A beating followed and her mother was accused of having encouraged the alleged theft. The police were called in and informed by her father that she had stolen the entire family budget. She was handcuffed and transported to a nearby station where she was lectured about her alleged misdemeanour before she was released. They had failed to treat her as a child. It had been a terrifying experience. Since then she had made it a point never to find anything that did not belong to her.

She quickly examined the public container by walking around it to ensure that no evidence of her presence was left behind. Audrey stretched her strides to maximum and was soon away from the site of the dumpster, taking sidelong glances to ensure no one had appeared unexpectedly in the alleyway. No one had! She opened the flap of her leather bag and put the Journal inside it.

Audrey Bourne rushed to her second floor apartment ensuring the nosy neighbour had not noticed her early arrival back from work. He was presumably retired, unemployed or lazy; she was uncertain. However, uncharacteristically he failed to notice her return and did not, as a matter of routine, peep out of his front door. She stifled stress induced sneezing, her allergy having subsided, as she approached the entrance to her apartment. The rest of her neighbours were mostly at work and all she could hear was some infant bawling in some unsighted apartment. The building manager was engaged in his regular pursuit of sport or endless cooking shows from the comfort of his dented sofa and oblivious of the appearance or disappearance of residents. He was commonly known as ‘no comment’ and ‘no action man’.

Once inside, she secured the door from within with multiple latches and bolts. Audrey extracted the Journal from within the leather bag and in great anticipation stared at it. It was decidedly an unexpected find! She decided to temporarily shed her acquired prejudices against members of social and financial fortunes.

Though she had not examined the interior she nevertheless was excited. It promised enthralling reading into the life of some intelligent and noteworthy socialite, with artistic leanings to compliment her own. The very nature and appearance of the book suggested that! She was near delirious that it now belonged to her and no one would snatch it away, beat her mercilessly or drag her in handcuffs to the nearest police station for having discovered it.

It was not mere chance, she told herself, that events had led her to the dumpster. Destiny, she at times believed, travelled cloaked in a disguise of unexpected revelations. Destiny had little else in store for her! A worthwhile find had the potential to point the finger of providence in fulfilling ways.

Audrey charged into the tiny laundry and respectfully placed the Journal on an ironing board. She moistened a soft laundry rag and carefully wiped the book clean of unwanted dirt. The aroma of a distinctive and expensive perfume wafted to her nostrils. She marvelled at the subsidence of allergens that had been causing her discomfort for most of the day. Audrey sighed with intense relief and wonderment. There was no cure for the common cold, unless the remedy could be found in a glamorous personal book. It seemed the necessity to sneeze was for medical reasons and she had accessed immediate cure! Surely, she debated; such a miraculous recovery could only be attributed to the magic of the Journal. However, she did not believe in miracles either as none had occurred in her life. Perhaps a change was at hand!

The Journal was very likely discarded by accident or carelessness on the part of some person other than the owner. Perhaps it had been stolen! Personal entries were of little interest to the thief who, not anticipating any value to be derived, had thrown it into the dumpster; it seemed to be the most logical conclusion.

She was a fastidious person even though visitors or guests never entered her private world. Audrey entered the small and immaculately clean small living room. She settled herself into the comfortable single settee with the Journal on her lap. She wiped her spectacles clean, taking care not to leave any visible trace of fingerprints or dust that would interfere with reading. In some awe, she opened the first few pages and examined it with respect.

The handwriting was exquisite and the style very much to her liking. Audrey settled comfortably into the settee in great anticipation. She inhaled deeply. The very first page ensured that she held her breath.

Property of Jillis Kueller

Private: Do not access, with the exception of Paris Leighton Kueller

Other information had not been filled in. Particularly, the date and year section had been left blank. Audrey was certain the omissions were deliberate.

Her life had taken a serious turn! Somehow, she knew that she had ceased to exist as the person she had known all her miserable life. An entity, with purpose, destiny and dignity had emerged with an opening of the very first page of the Journal. She convinced herself that she, Audrey Bourne, was a chosen subordinate to that entity, rejuvenated for select purposes in life.

The names of popular people did not figure prominently in her list of interests. However, the name Kueller appeared familiar. Presumably it held some financial and corporate significance.

APR 11

Hello Journal

I constrain my philosophical tendencies to modern society from a personal perspective and not classical thinking. In an endeavour to reveal the essence of my character allow me to present a limited selection of philosophical imperatives to you.

Conscience, Journal, is an absurd word! Some select individuals are not encumbered by conscience as they are intellectually liberated. Individuals, as I am, are naturally among the privileged few! I need not justify my individual conscience to society as it is neither questionable nor contaminated by ignoble social elements or lesser minds.

Morality is another such word! Lord Devlin, an English judge described morality as underpinning the social fabric of a given society. Conversely, he asserted, entrenched ‘immorality’ as gradually eroding away the structure of a wholesome society, essential to its existence and continuance.

Morality is not a product of belief in God nor is immorality an arm of the Devil. Morality is a divine quality created by humans or debased into immorality by the same. As well, the dedication by lesser humans to God or the Devil, if they exist, is below my justified and lofty contempt. I correctly assert these things and will not be questioned about them, neither by you nor any others. The unseen moral members of society have a right to express their ‘wisdom’ in ways that suits best; provided their interests do not conflict with mine!

Grant me your attention, Journal; kindly do not stray at this point as much is yet to be revealed!

Morality, as exploited by some, disguises the evil deeds of social predators. It is a word not compatible with social parasites. They practice their indecency in the darkened corridors of their lives with devastating consequences inflicted upon society. Camouflaged behind the collar of religion or the mask of politics they operate in the midnight hours of indecency. They acquire high social status, yet conceal perverted social and intellectual leanings. Rather, immorality and hypocrisy, words that are bedfellows, are applicable to the higher echelons of the social strata.

Lawyers, priests, ethicists, psychologists, educators and a host of high minded individuals are the cloistered scum of any society! This elitist group perceive of themselves as above the rest of intelligent humanity. In truth, Journal, they are consummate charlatans who break every rule they are supposed to uphold…in the name of social morality!

I shall conduct my life from an inherited and very personal sense of goodness towards society. My personal leanings are of a truly moral person. As such, the twisted morality of high society does not apply to me; I am immune to it. Hypocrisy is not part of my character. Tragically, it is an endemic part of high society of which, as I have stated, I am a prominent though reluctant member.

I do not function by the strict dictates or perceived morals of general society either and never will. I have my personal sense of moral righteousness. To exemplify: the conduct of certain social elements, such as drug addicts and harlots, the lowest of the low, arouses feelings of revulsion in me. My personal loathing is an indicator of immoral conduct engaged in by others. The behaviour of certain elements in society is anti-social and should never be tolerated. I intend not to!

We, you and I, shall endeavour to the best of our abilities to instil changes in society that are morally acceptable and socially necessary. Lord Devlin, I dare say, would have been pleased. He and modern criminologists apply the judgement of good people, as I am, to define ‘moral wrongness’!

Some cultures define the human body as the temple of God. Neither do I believe in God or gods, nor willingly enter the unhallowed grounds of temples, synagogues, mosques or churches. Yet I say to you, Journal, members of society who degrade the human body are repulsive to me. I applaud those who believe they can bring about changes in the world by moral deeds and valuable contributions. The select manner to change the world, as such, is to be rid of parasites by moral deeds! It is imperative to cleanse the world of drug addicts, prostitutes and any other female who has deserted the true calling of her glorious gender!

Females are presumably and may I say allegedly, the upholders of morality in society. Some do not conform to my particular image of a constructive society. I am outraged! What then, you question, should society really be like? My answer is that it should be parasite free! Those who degrade the decency of others, promote immorality and feed off the kindness or guilt of society, have no place in the established order of women or men.

How do I describe a parasite? A family of fungi that live in the tropical jungles of the world have developed a unique way of propagating. Spores of such organism attack a living insect, such as an ant, temporarily disabling the brain. The fungi grow out of the body of the ant or beetle, slowly sucking the life blood out of the living unsuspecting host. The species of fungi happily propagate as the harmless insect fades away into painful and deranged oblivion.

Some humans are as the tropical fungi!

Perhaps, Journal, such a concept is not easy to understand. If you are confused then consider my promised deeds. My dedication to high nobility has not, as yet, come to fruition. As I have previously requested of you; persevere with me! An entire new way of perceiving life will manifest.

I am not irrational nor are my ideas illogical as others might imagine. Rationality and logic are subjective issues with little or no scientific credibility. Each of us believes in our own brand. We conveniently refer to some obscure established fact, precedence or didactic principle to support our particular point of view. I support all that I believe in, whether others agree with me or not! Therefore, I am as rational and logical as any other person. I am proud that the academic ravings and intellectual claims of others have failed to influence me!

Do you believe, Journal, I am pre-empting certain acts and in so doing seeking justification for such acts? It is early days yet!

Humans are indisputably complex creatures! How insulting it is therefore to attach disgusting common labels to outstanding individuals. Such persons do not comply with set social norms! As if social norms really matter in the everyday life of individuals as unique as me! I am thrilled there is nothing complex about me except in highly undecipherable ways. I am, I justifiably assert, beyond the understanding of commoners.

Strange creatures, humans, are they not, Journal? Well, there is nothing you will ever evaluate as common or strange about me. I am aristocratic and noble, not just by genetic descent, but also in the character that truly portrays who I am. I insist, Journal, there is nothing strange about me.

Conformity to society is the order of the day for most people! My conformity is unique and unconventional and has nothing in common with others. I, as you may have surmised, am not amenable to any form of conformity by any reasonable deduction. I excel in my individual brand of conformity; more so, as I have already stated, I never find it necessary to conform to the social values of others in any way, shape or form. It is however, in keeping with the high morality of Erzsébet.

I do not entertain double standards and I am singularly mindful of everything I do or do not write. Neither do I contradict myself in any manner or detail! If you believe that I do, it is merely because your logic is common and not refined as mine.

As for common sense! It is common to all who aspire to commonality. They are restricted by common sense and cannot achieve high intellectual capabilities. Beyond the boundaries of common thought the ‘common’ man or woman is lost; though others may mistakenly claim that common sense is not so common. If there are benefits to being common then I logically assert by definition that I am not common; nor am I limited by common sense! How could I possibly be? The blood that flows within my veins is the blood of aristocrats, nobles and warlords!

If you are bored by my ambit claims it is only so as you find me challenging and perhaps disturbing! You see in me an individual ostensibly different to others and find that confronting. Yes, I do believe you find me utterly confronting and challenging! Be flattered to be in exclusive company, if you possess the daring and courage to do so!

+

I shall now, Journal, return to some essential contentions. Prostitution and drug addiction are legally claimed to be victimless crimes; except, the price to be paid for such crime is by society! It is society that is the true victim of such evil. I find no justification, neither in poverty, neglect or the indolent and selfish acts of others in imposing sorrow on society.

I shall strive for a wholesome and acceptable way of life for all of society. It is highly dependent on me to bring about changes in the best interests of others. Such an assertion is not some egotistic or maniacal claim! My reasons are sound and I am convinced by them. Such rationale is not open to questioning or debate. I dare say such changes I anticipate might be unpalatable to some.

We shall discuss conscience and human values, though never to justify my thoughts, words or deeds; rather to explain changes necessary for society to function morally.

I do hope I have not confused you thus far, Journal! However, I repeat, you are promised explorations beyond your wildest imaginings! I hope my literary style does not deter you from sharing in a privileged adventure. I shall be saddened if you shy away from my secrets for you are the only one I have decided upon to trust. I hope you appreciate this singular honour bestowed on you. It will be to your detriment to abandon a salubrious experience.

I could give you a name!

I regrettably state that I am not about to. Consider my rationale! You would be endowed with human individuality and a rigid identity. A name or social title would restrict you with consequent undesirable traits such as jealousy and betrayal. Nonetheless, I invite the jealousy of others towards me as I find it pleasurable. I abhor betrayal!

Trust and loyalty are qualities I demand of others. Trust is comparable to a fine crystal glass; once broken it can be expertly repaired. However, on close examination cracks resulting from the break are noticeable and the possibility of an irreparable break always loom. Loyalty is a divine quality as it is given without questioning. People who are beneficiaries of loyalty are the chosen, not merely those who are called to justify numbers. I believe I am among the chosen though undying loyalty is yet to traverse along the path of my anticipated journey. I therefore must believe in my entrenched virtue of infinite patience.

Distrust and disloyalty towards me are human failings that I am not prepared to tolerate and I state that emphatically! Such failings in others do not form a core of my character. I am entirely trustworthy and loyal to my personal likes, dislikes, beliefs and disbeliefs. I have nothing to be jealous about except perhaps, in a devotional manner, of Erzsébet.

Social outrage has a sound basis to it and leads to personal rage. One should not be deterred from displaying such characteristics in defence of social values. As well, to be socially outraged by character deficiencies of ill bred individuals is entirely justified.

Why do I discuss social outrage or personal rage?

The subject of our adventure is the manner in which social outrage serves as a tool. As a consequence, personal rage manifests in absolute justification.

I could not personify you! It would be disturbing if you happened to see yourself as a person. You must exist as an abstract phenomenon, in the least as an impassive observer, to support and enhance my personality. You will evolve, given time; though only in a manner that I consider suitable to me. Remember, that your existence is a matter of my whim and generosity. However, you are invited!

The secrets I will share with you, Journal, I could never entrust to any person. Why? Your apparent suspicion and monosyllabic question is justified. Quite simply, as I know, I can trust you; so do be flattered as such a concession is a rare occurrence! Within your pages I will secure personal and clandestine thoughts and incredible deeds; not mere entries! I will share secrets with extreme generosity, which cannot be discussed or accessed by others. Or, they do so at their own peril!

Truth is a quality inherent to people with pure hearts and uncontaminated minds, such as mine. I have a point to make.

Truth and justice are patently beyond the ken of high minded people. I shall elaborate. The pretentious human pillars of society, the undeserving high and mighty who uphold judicial and moral truths, are in fact degenerates. They befuddle a pandering and subservient public. How do I justify such claims?

Truth and justice apply naturally to me; I have had opportunity to compare! As an individual I am scrupulous, conscientious and an honest person! These are personal traits that unsurprisingly envelop my puritanical soul, though I have not the faintest inclinations towards religion.

I stand in judgement of others from a position of personal conviction and moral strength. Nothing can deter me from my entrenched individual beliefs. Neither is there anything melodramatic, emotive, pompous nor sinister about future entries. Well, perhaps, sinister by the standards of some self righteous people! However, their opinions do not matter! They, Journal, and I state that contemptuously, overwhelmingly lack familiarity with my principled and disciplined thought patterns.

I, as you will discover, have been uniquely selected by Nature and historical circumstance. If there are common threads with others, I will break them with justified disdain. Perhaps and better still, I shall simply discard those who pretend common threads with me!

What do I mean by ‘discard’? Familiarity does tend to breed contempt! Really! Rather hasty, are you not? In the least, adopt a modicum of patience and not ask probing questions at this stage. There is yet a long way for us to travel before you address my motives in such familiar manner!

Patience is a core aspect of my personality. It is a worthwhile characteristic and I shall strive to continuously remind you about this virtue. You will, in due course, be in keeping with certain thought patterns that I have prudently reserved for myself. I intend in future to share with you. We are about to establish standards I hope will be emulated by others; provided they enjoy inherited breeding, the intellect of sages and the courage and belief of medieval knights. Do my words paint an overly elaborate and romantic picture; inconsistent and rambling with my stated thought patterns and lost in memories of centuries gone by? Is it what you think? Hardly! At this stage they are a mere sketch. The ultimate portrait will be in honour of divine Erzsébet.

Intellect and courage, Journal, are celestial aspects of the human spirit. Rarely do they come as a combination! They are not bestowed on the same individual person as has been naturally bestowed on me. I am unique in the sense that select natural gifts have been showered on me without reservations by genetic inheritance.

If you could see me you would concur that I am physically beautiful, enchantingly so and beyond verbal description. I am intellectually suave, by any reckoning, talented and socially skilled in incalculable ways though I have little need for the company of others.

I blatantly state I am confident to a point that may be construed as arrogant. There are neither any social pretensions attached to me nor am I overtly arrogant. Personal confidence is a matter of breeding, physical beauty, high intellect and wealth. I am naturally entitled to all. Where, I ask of you, is one likely to discover an individual in comparable image? You, as you begin to realise, are privileged to be chosen as a confidante. I hope you will appreciate that!

Modesty, did you say? I am comfortable with a lack of modesty, as my entries thus far adequately declare. I fear it is yet another word to shelter the intellectually feeble minded from social scrutiny! The most immodest are they who, with great subtlety, invite a scrutiny of their self proclaimed modesty. They declare themselves modest in order to draw unwarranted attention to their latent immodesty. I am modestly immodest!

Pretentious people employ pathetic clichés to describe individuals who display outstanding characteristics. Banal remarks such as the ‘mad scientist’ are truly irritating, as there is no truth to it! Society should disallow concoction of similar platitudes, including ‘psychotic socialite’. I hate the word ‘mad’ and detest gutter ones like ‘barmy’. The scientist is neither mad nor is the benevolent socialite psychotic. Instead, they are unique individuals beyond common reasoning or understanding. They have greater potential to contribute to society than their critics. I loathe the word ‘nuts’, apart from when it is correctly used to define a particular fruit such as a walnut or pecan. I find commonplace terms, as I have described, utterly disgusting! I shall strive never again to mention such puerile words in the many entries I anticipate.

However, I might grudgingly add, some words as mentioned, refer to a quiet genius. I am not weird, neither mad nor psychotic in justifying select categories of humans as I have enlisted; I empathise with them! It is ‘normal’ people who portray others beyond their understanding as weird or strange.

My future dedicated deeds extend to positive benefits for society; it is not random political or religious convictions.

I am an individual gifted by nature in many ways, as I have expressed abundantly. I am intellectually well balanced for one as young. My personal accomplishments and my attainments will leave you floundering.

As well, the financial, the intellectual achievements and, might I add, the genetic inheritance of my family will overwhelm you. We as a family are purely descended members of the ADELN or Swedish nobility. My family are inheritors of Standing Orders of the House of Knights of Swedish nobles. We have been superfluously recognised in Sverigé or Sweden and yet denied our privileges by the advance of modernity in the land of our origins. As of now, we are a medieval people in a modern land, immigrants by description though stalwart in the traditions of former royalty. We are a small family, exorbitant in culture and tradition and yet accommodating of synthetic modernity.

Many falsely believe we are an example of the rags to riches story! Such an ideal is noble and to be cherished; however, it does not apply to us as a family. The very consideration is unthinkable! We are of true aristocratic descent though such recognition is of little importance in a rapidly advancing democratic world.

The term ‘blue blood’ is an idiom which originates from ancient and medieval societies of Europe and Scandinavia. It distinguishes an elite class of humans whose superficial veins appear translucent blue. The agricultural peasants, constantly exposed and condemned to sunlight in fields, could not claim such a distinguishing feature. I am therefore in the true sense of the word, a blue blood by birth and appearance!

Strangely, my grandfather, a giant in commerce and agriculture has descended to his knees in open fields to feed the nation. Such unselfishness in aspects of character you will also discover in me; I care! You will celebrate in my company in a manner you could not have imagined; I promise you, as much is yet to unravel.

I would sincerely hope that you will remember privileges being endowed on you! I intend to remind you continuously, of concessions granted to you. I intend to foster our relationship in positive ways during the course of an endearing journey.

I am not setting time parameters to our relationship! Heaven forbid I end a friendship that has barely begun. However, consider without questioning, it is I and not you who holds the reins of power in this relationship. I, unquestioningly, shall dominate!

It is heartening to see, Journal, you have generous pages as I have a generous disposition towards you! Together, we shall formulate society to a morally, socially and intellectually acceptable state, even if the price to be paid for such changes was in the blood of others. It is a burden one must carry just as darling Erzsébet once did. I can barely wait to commence. I must, however, allow with infinite patience for events to follow a natural course of order.

The Investigating team

What in heaven’s name…!

 (A year later) 

Les Withers was an experienced and senior police detective. He had uncovered an internal plot between junior officers. They were determined to solve some undecipherable foreign communication behind his back though he had ordered them not to do so. For Les, there was no looking away. He was duty bound to pursue their unauthorised efforts. Lucinda Smyth, a local resident and an innocent girl, had been battered to death on some isolated foreign site.

Another reformed drug addict, Josie Fielder, had mysteriously vanished on home ground. Gideon Laver, a highly regarded uniformed police officer, was guilt driven. His obsession with the disappearance of Josie Fielder had become a fixation with Les Withers as well; as the senior officer, it was to him to stop further mysterious disappearances of more young female persons.

The disappearance of Josie Fielder and the offshore murder of Lucinda Smyth were the last investigations that Les Withers was required to carry out before being transferred from active policing to administrative duties.

***

I agree, Les Withers remonstrated with his deputy, so don’t go on about it.

He was seated uncomfortably in the comfort of his modern office. Les was not in a conciliatory state of mind. His discontent was in response to questions carefully and thoughtfully raised by his deputy. He rarely sought advice or comment from others. Les Withers was infuriated that his transfer to administrative duties was to be delayed. His physical incapacity, an ailing leg and a desire to access the leisurely activities of life had been uppermost in his mind.

Les brought his fist down with an emphatic bang on the desk at which he sat, expressing frustration and unnecessary force. The laptop computer, which he rarely bothered to look at, sitting inoffensively on the desk jumped into the air and fell back with a clattering sound. Other desk instruments followed suit.

Outside, an erratic wind lashed city streets. It whistled mournfully through numerous concrete city tunnels. Streaks of lightning crossed the skies as deep thunder rattled glass panes. Rain was tumbling down in torrents. The darkening afternoon held few promises.

People don’t just disappear into thin air, so don’t remind me! Les grumbled at Sarah Fennec as she regarded the floor in disappointment. Not, he muttered to himself, in my area of jurisdiction and not as long as I am here.

There was little else Les could do except tug at his ear lobe and run his fingers through receding hair in abject frustration. He stared pointlessly at nothing in particular.

His deputy, Sarah Fennec, moved respectfully away from his presence and leaned against an adjacent wall as she sighed helplessly. Having served in Les’ company and as his subordinate over a period, she had learnt to keep her distance when confronted with his rare display of powerlessness. Others wrongly believed she succumbed to Les’ domination due to her gender. Rumours circulated that Les was intolerant of foreigners and he did not like working with women, though such malicious gossip were of marginal truth.

Les kicked his chair away from the desk. The well-worn plastic casters squeaked in protest as he attempted to stand up. It was a futile act! One leg almost gave way under the weight of his body. A work related accident he had suffered had weakened it. Sarah Fennec spontaneously reached forward to help him as he glared at her not to do so. His physical restriction was not in need of disrespectful charity.

Les happened to be reasonably fit for his middle years, except for a small bulbous middle. An early morning quiet walk and simple stretching exercises following the accident had paid dividends. However, X-rays revealed he had accumulated streaking of respiratory lesions on his lungs. At times he was short of breath. Coupled with a compromising leg he rarely attempted to climb a set of stairs. Les had reluctantly abandoned smoking to set an example to other members of the police under his command, though occasionally, in private, he indulged in a cigarette or two. A social drink, now and again, had assured him of an acceptable state of health.

Les was mentally exhausted!

In sheer annoyance he flung himself back into the chair, giving vent to his physical and mental state. He stamped on the heavily carpeted floor with his good leg. There was no response. It did not help relieve tension!

His crafted professional persona as well as a distinguished career was taking a noticeable battering. Others who worked with him were aware of his current shortcomings. It did not enhance his diminishing self confidence. Les Withers rarely, if ever, displayed any form of helplessness. His self assurance was on constant display and he imparted confidence to others, when, he was not humiliating them with abrupt words or derogatory remarks.

There was a caring aspect to his personality. Occasionally, his considerate behaviour and understanding of other people’s needs was unexpected and often surprising; he could be uncharacteristically generous! Nonetheless, this was often overlaid by an overactive professional conduct. He had limits and of late these had become easy to observe. His sense of generosity seemed to have evaporated along with rapidly diminishing self belief.

I thought… Sarah began hesitantly only to be interrupted by Les.

As I have done, he scolded her, along every avenue of thinking you might pursue! Turning his head around, he almost glared at her. He defied her to state it was his fault even though she had no intention of doing so.

It’s like a vanishing act at a human level; gone before our very eyes without a clue left behind! he grumbled. No one cares but us and we have nothing more than intense suspicion to back us up. Les stared at her in a confronting manner. My thoughts and your words, right? he challenged.

Sarah Fennec shrugged her shoulders as she had little to challenge him with.

Stop thinking! he commanded. I told you, didn’t I, he reminded her, it would grow on me, together with the number of sleepless nights?

Sarah waited patiently for Les to settle down. Her personal frustration was not reduced by his helplessness and irritation. They both shared a dilemma that could not be resolved. It would require calm thinking and serious dedication to solve a confounding problem.

I was about to say that we could do with assistance at this stage, she suggested hesitatingly, conscious she might further antagonise him. Only, if you agree, Sarah added quickly as Les enacted a familiar body movement. She had observed a peculiarity whenever he rejected the opinions of others, which was very often. He shuddered rapidly to express his disagreement.

Gideon Laver, Sarah continued, having waited long enough for his shuddering to subside is not some kindergarten story teller who invents facts and figures for our entertainment, she said guardedly. For the moment it seemed she was treading on thin ice with a pair of heavy iron boots strapped to her feet.

Perhaps, she suggested meekly, if we spoke to him once again and encouraged him to open up, we could uncover detail we may have missed. After all it was he who put us on this treadmill! Gideon’s persistence in regard to rehabilitated Josie Fielder has really got us all going. Really, she couldn’t have just vanished! She regarded him hopefully though she knew he was barely listening to her.

Les raised and rested his feet on the desk as she spoke, continuously stroking his chin in some contemplative manner. It was as though by remaining silent a flash of inspiration would dawn on some very dark corridors of investigation.

Sarah Fennec knew this was highly unlikely. She whistled softly in despair. Not discussing the matter was being unhelpful; it was hardly an appropriate manner to work as a coordinated unit. Involved was another member of the team who had judiciously made his presence scarce, leaving her to deal with Les.

One or two, she continued, hoping for some official agreement, we could investigate in routine manner. The possible number of missing persons is frightening, to say the least.

To her disappointment Les was unresponsive and she was required to persist.

Besides that, take Marionette Salle for example, she sighed despairingly. You said, Sarah hoped to draw him into conversation, there are unanswered questions in regard to the animal shelter. Gideon Laver has serious interests there and he is entitled to them! She was a close friend. Now she’s dead!

She commenced to pace the length of the room, occasionally glancing at him for contribution. Les was downcast! Unexpected matters requiring serious and dedicated attention were arising prior to his transfer. He was duty bound to solve current problems. Sarah sympathised with him and knew she would miss him once he was gone. However neither sympathy nor personal loss was going to initiate action or bring about results in respect of current matters.

Are we to believe, Sarah questioned, a possible serial offender with international connections, dressed in the garb of a Christian nun is on the loose? It seems absurd, given the good work she has done for poor people besides being praised for her efforts by others! We need to work methodically, as I have learnt by observing you, Sarah encouraged.

Yes, okay! You’ve made your point, Les exclaimed in frustration, wishing her to discontinue speaking. He gesticulated angrily, shuddering as he did. You just keep repeating where we are, in case I forget, he rebuked her. Who knows, he said sarcastically, the two, your computer nerd and you, could solve this mess without my help or intervention!

It’s not what I implied, she said quietly, disappointed by his inference. Sarah retreated into silence waiting patiently for him to join in some constructive discussion. She had never seen him as irritated before even though she was familiar with his erratic bursts of temper. However, as a policeman and senior officer, she held him in high regard.

Les stood up favouring his damaged leg and walked to the glass panelled wall on the opposite side. He stared blankly into the progressing gloominess of the rain drenched late afternoon. A helicopter flew low above the building and a powerful downdraft lashed at the window pane. He backed hurriedly away as it seemed someone had attempted to punch him in the face. He shook a fist at the departing craft and cursed silently.

***

Les Withers had served the department of homicide for nearly all his working life. With a much desired shift to administrative duties his active detective life was soon to come to an end. He had been shot in one leg by a violent offender. A compensation offer was made to him with full benefits to retire. Les had angrily refused the generous act stating that the mishap had occurred during the course of duty for which he was adequately paid. His refusal to take advantage of the situation was appreciated and respect for him had multiplied exponentially. In truth Les Withers had little else in life to compensate him for his love of the job.

The affected leg had shortened in comparison to the other one, creating lower back problems that restricted movement. He was occasionally seen struggling to tie his shoe laces! Lack of mobility and dependence had altered his character and he was characteristically short tempered or irritable. He avoided driving a car as this played havoc with his aching back, preferring others to transport him around. Sarah Fennec, of late, had become his regular driver.

Les could not wait to leave for easier physical work in administration; however, he was departing for physical reasons and not out of choice. It would take an interesting case to draw him back to active policing. It seemed he was confronted with one that was beyond such ordinary description.

He was a man of middle size and walked with his head in the air to compensate for his lack of official height. Les had a ruddy complexion and his face was scarred with visible lines of life experience. His greying hair was long and well cared for, his moustache always in good trim.

He refused to wear spectacles. Les often pretended he could read unaided and stare into infinity as others observed in a tolerant manner. To the silent amusement of those who worked with him he dismissively passed documents to be read aloud as though he could not be bothered. As the top senior detective he was usually well dressed in civilian clothes and presented as a person conscious of his social status and his official position.

For the first time in his long and illustrious career as an investigating officer he was confounded beyond personal acceptance. Some mysterious person, possibly a serial killer, was outwitting him and he did not have a clue! He was reluctant to depart from his official position without having successfully completed his last round of duties. It was a confronting experience for him and he was finding it difficult to deal with it. Few, if any cases under his jurisdiction, of persons murdered or having mysteriously disappeared ever remained unsolved. He took enormous pride in his abilities. The department he served had relied on him to achieve results. His ego had recently been dented and his reputation was at ebb.

***

The continuous rain was washing away more than dust on the street below. Hope, the only commodity available to vulnerable people, was being washed away into