TWISTED GAME

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and or not to be construed as real.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission by the author. ©

This masterful thriller is written for persons 18 years and up

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This masterful thriller is written for persons 18 years and up.


~~~*~~~

The summer of improvement is over, freedom his again after years of forced dormancy.

The taste is bright and metallic, like a drop of sweet honey on the tip of the tongue.

Freedom.

The sight irresponsible, like the first blooms in the spring.

Freedom.

The sound musical, like the simpler of meek begging release from the mighty.

Freedom.

The odor intoxicating, like sweat shimmering off of the skin of the terrified.

Freedom.

He watches, his face bowed, cracks his back, and stretches his arms above his head taking in the expanse of his domain.

Emperor.

God.

He radiates with freedom, exalted.

Salvia pools in the fleshy pockets at the back of his mouth as he watches the life drain from his victims, the sweet, excruciating ecstasy of what's to come . . .

Freedom unleashed.

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