I am the devil, and I’m here to do the devil’s business. Tex Watson Spiral’s Journal June 3. Each line I write is blotted with my blood from my peeling, gauzed fingertips. This journal is my gift to the world. One day I will die, sooner or later, and this is all that will… Continue reading Chapter Four
Chapter Three
You’re alone in the valley of the shadow. Watchmen Trisha McGowan’s Journal June 2nd. Murray State Prison. Gatesville, Texas. Five hours and forty minutes from now I will be a free woman. For the first time in eight years I will see the sky, breathe in the air and set foot outside of these… Continue reading Chapter Three
Chapter Two
God is empty. Just like me. — Smashing Pumpkins, Zero Spiral’s Journal May 16th. New York. Twenty seven bones in the human hand, I remember thinking, as I stared at a small area of cold, unforgiving red brick that I had exposed from underneath the ripped, faded and worn floral-print wallpaper that covers the… Continue reading Chapter Two
Chapter One
“Why can’t you just say what’s on your mind?” In civilization there have to be some restraints. If we followed every impulse, we’d be killing one another. Miss Manners Spiral’s Journal April 4th. New Orleans. My foot kicked the deadlock and the door splintered into a thousand pieces, spraying the darkness of my old… Continue reading Chapter One
Prologue
THE MAN WITH THE SCARS I know not where he comes from But I know where he is going: he is going to Hell. A. Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo They suspected that he had no heart. R. Sabatini, Scaramouche April 1st, 2009 Incoming Call. Sitting on the bedside nightstand, the cell phone lit… Continue reading Prologue