Read Online Twisted Fate (Tales of Horror) by Jonas Saul - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jonas Saul
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What the hell was happening? This had never happened before in any of my thousands of incarnations I’ve lived. Maybe my age was catching up with me. Perhaps it was my soul that was to be stolen?
“We lived right here,” Jacob said, his arms wide.
I realized he was right. The earth under my feet was once my garden. I could see everything and understand nothing. I should remember it if I had lived here before. I looked around and noticed indentations in the foliage that resembled a pattern. When I pushed a few shrubs aside, I could see pieces of the foundation of a building that once stood here. When I looked up, Jacob was thirty meters away and moving fast.
“Jacob. I mean Mark! Where’re you going?”
“I want to show you the tree,” he yelled back over his shoulder. “And then you can have your surprise.”
I’d had enough surprises for one day. I was having an involuntary epiphany. I didn’t want to know what I was discovering. A part of my rational side rebelled. Anger rose in me—violence too. The killing was coming, along with it the sweet rush of murder. So delicate and yet so satisfying.
Humans do it every day. They kill each other. They kill animals for sport. Everything down to a fly swatter kills and they take great pleasure in it. I live on another scale, another plane, one greater than all the others. My pleasure in death is immense. Watching it, causing it, feeling it, being killed myself. Everything to do with it is why I exist.
I am, therefore I kill.
I followed Jacob another fifty yards, with John close behind. We came to a clump of trees and there, scraped into the bark of the largest tree was the name Mark and the year, 1931 .
I looked at John. If he didn’t figure out who he was soon, he would wonder what all this meant. Was his son reincarnated or psychic? John would have questions. We were down to the end. I didn’t want to have to kill him without the knowledge of who he is. It hurt when their last breath came out, their eyes darkened, and they had no idea why. Knowledge is power. I love death when we know why. It’s a rich power. The only kind. That’s why I do what I do and I’m so good at it. The power. The power of death and the power over death.
“Can I help you folks?”
Nothing pissed me off more than being startled.
My human body jumped a foot and let out a small squeal as all three of us turned around and stared death in the face. The man standing with the aid of a cane was twenty feet away. He must have been at least ninety-years old. The side of his face looked melted, like he’d kissed a fire and paid for it. He was simply gorgeous.
“I’m sorry, we were just looking around,” John said.
Do you realize how dumb that sounds? Oh, we’re just looking around in the middle of the tall grass and huge trees . We must’ve looked like complete idiots.
“I haven’t seen anyone this far off the road in a long time,” the old man said.
“Is this your property?” John asked.
“My papa owned it and it fell into my hands when he died in the fifties. I’ve lived here since I was born in 1934.”
I looked at Jacob. His head was down as he stared at something on the ground. I could tell he was thinking. Then my eight-year-old son spoke as he looked up at the old man.
“Your name is Kirk Sutton. I remember you because you always played with frogs. You actually had a few pet frogs that you wouldn’t let anyone near. We used to tease you about it.”
The old man looked at Jacob/Mark. He studied my son with a wry smile that turned to a scowl. A few seconds passed before he spoke. “How did you know my name? And how do you know about my frogs?”
“I know because I’m Mark. I used to live just over there in the thirties.” Jacob lifted his arm and pointed. Then he looked back at Kirk Sutton. “I also know about your other obsession.”
“Well now, that couldn’t be
“We lived right here,” Jacob said, his arms wide.
I realized he was right. The earth under my feet was once my garden. I could see everything and understand nothing. I should remember it if I had lived here before. I looked around and noticed indentations in the foliage that resembled a pattern. When I pushed a few shrubs aside, I could see pieces of the foundation of a building that once stood here. When I looked up, Jacob was thirty meters away and moving fast.
“Jacob. I mean Mark! Where’re you going?”
“I want to show you the tree,” he yelled back over his shoulder. “And then you can have your surprise.”
I’d had enough surprises for one day. I was having an involuntary epiphany. I didn’t want to know what I was discovering. A part of my rational side rebelled. Anger rose in me—violence too. The killing was coming, along with it the sweet rush of murder. So delicate and yet so satisfying.
Humans do it every day. They kill each other. They kill animals for sport. Everything down to a fly swatter kills and they take great pleasure in it. I live on another scale, another plane, one greater than all the others. My pleasure in death is immense. Watching it, causing it, feeling it, being killed myself. Everything to do with it is why I exist.
I am, therefore I kill.
I followed Jacob another fifty yards, with John close behind. We came to a clump of trees and there, scraped into the bark of the largest tree was the name Mark and the year, 1931 .
I looked at John. If he didn’t figure out who he was soon, he would wonder what all this meant. Was his son reincarnated or psychic? John would have questions. We were down to the end. I didn’t want to have to kill him without the knowledge of who he is. It hurt when their last breath came out, their eyes darkened, and they had no idea why. Knowledge is power. I love death when we know why. It’s a rich power. The only kind. That’s why I do what I do and I’m so good at it. The power. The power of death and the power over death.
“Can I help you folks?”
Nothing pissed me off more than being startled.
My human body jumped a foot and let out a small squeal as all three of us turned around and stared death in the face. The man standing with the aid of a cane was twenty feet away. He must have been at least ninety-years old. The side of his face looked melted, like he’d kissed a fire and paid for it. He was simply gorgeous.
“I’m sorry, we were just looking around,” John said.
Do you realize how dumb that sounds? Oh, we’re just looking around in the middle of the tall grass and huge trees . We must’ve looked like complete idiots.
“I haven’t seen anyone this far off the road in a long time,” the old man said.
“Is this your property?” John asked.
“My papa owned it and it fell into my hands when he died in the fifties. I’ve lived here since I was born in 1934.”
I looked at Jacob. His head was down as he stared at something on the ground. I could tell he was thinking. Then my eight-year-old son spoke as he looked up at the old man.
“Your name is Kirk Sutton. I remember you because you always played with frogs. You actually had a few pet frogs that you wouldn’t let anyone near. We used to tease you about it.”
The old man looked at Jacob/Mark. He studied my son with a wry smile that turned to a scowl. A few seconds passed before he spoke. “How did you know my name? And how do you know about my frogs?”
“I know because I’m Mark. I used to live just over there in the thirties.” Jacob lifted his arm and pointed. Then he looked back at Kirk Sutton. “I also know about your other obsession.”
“Well now, that couldn’t be
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