The Cult

The Cult

Waverly Dirnt's picture

Beth trailed her fingertips along her porch railway. There was nothing more satisfying than to be alone, to feel the wind tug at her hair with no revive. She was free.

While the other children ran across the freshly-mowed lawns, flinging their arms above their heads, she leaned against the porch, licking her lips and liking the feel of the wind brushing past her narrowed eyes, her arms folded against the cold.

Beth had planned a huge change for her life, and for the better. She needed others to feel her pain, her soul wrapped up in a silk turban. Her fingers twitched, and she turned from the porch.

It was time to gather members...

CARRY ON YOU FELLOW WRITERS!!!

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kalabhoot's picture

Her thoughts turned back to her plans, what better way to share her pain, then by using the loved ones of those that inflicted her anguish. The little ones will do nicely, they will cause the most pain and damage for they would be the least suspected, She licked her lips again, this time tasting the promise of fear and loathing soon to be unleashed against the unsuspecting. The wind picked up even more but this time it had no affect on her, she was becoming devoid of all feelings, she would need this in order to carry out her intentions without remorse or hesitation. The screams and laughter of the children broke her train of thought they were running back in her direction she had to hurry, there were last minute preparations that had to be accomplished before she could implment the changes to her new life. The darkness awaits....

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