The Palace


She came hard, screaming, her pink pubic dye job mashed down hard by her palm, three fingers inside her, her other hand supplying unknown numbers of digits to her asshole.

I crouched in her closet, intently watching, this time without arousal. I was too scared I wouldn’t be able to go through with it; it would only be my third kill. I’d snuck into her house just before she got home from school. I waited there as her parents came home from work and then left again. Now my hand shook, nearly causing me to drop the knife. I tightened my grip, emboldened by a mental image of my knife blade sliding deep into her rectum, spearing layers of serpentine intestines as it went farther into her abdominal cavity. How hard she’d scream then..

She was still shuddering a little and rubbing her crotch when I leapt upon her.

But wait, this already happened. I began to get confused; I suddenly had memories that were not my own. Memories of Japan and of unknown places in Europe. And Stalingrad. How did I know it was Stalingrad?

I jerked my head up.

Ashim.

“You are conscious?”

I grunted at him.

“You are very strong to awake now. You were giving a description of events from your past, but not precisely the ones we wanted. I will give you another dose. Mr. Luumer will provide you with more suggestions as you succumb.”

I vaguely remembered this ritual having happened before…


SMR