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Greetings to anyone that still bothers to check in here. The likelihood of me continuing this story is pretty much nil at this point. I apologize for leaving things unresolved but I just don't have the desire to finish. For those who don't know I do have another blog called Celebrity Amateur Nudes (It's NOT porn). It's a silly little outlet for me and some of my warped views.

I also just published my first short story on Kindle. It's called "Full Moon Dreams". It has some of the same depravity enjoyed on A Sound Mind. The story is available for download here.

I look forward to continuing to publish stories and hearing from anyone that cares to acknowledge my existence.

Bryan

ATTENTION READERS:

A Sound Mind is going on a temporary hiatus. Over the past few months I've begun to lose my way with the story. What started as a cathartic, stream of consciousness writing has dwindled into a largely ignored writing assignment. I hope to regain some focus and perspective to continue the story with a greater resolve. In the meantime I am working on other stories to be published in other arenas. I will continue to update my Twitter account for current status on coming projects.

Thank you

Bryan

In Trouble For The Things I Haven't Got To Yet

Woke up in an airport on the other side of the country this morning. The cattle surrounding me spoke with peculiar accents and paid no attention to me. Had it not been for the public address welcoming travelers I would have had no idea where I was. When "Boston" registered in my brain a sinking feeling laid upon me. I had no earthly reason to be there. My phone had no messages or email. My calendar read "vacation" in bold letters through all of this week. When I read Tuesday on the date bar it seemed so foreign to me. I remember spending the night with Candace on Thursday. Four days of no account. The blackouts are getting worse. After a few minutes of bewilderment I headed to the restroom to collect myself. In the solitude of a stall I began to rifle through my coat and pants pockets for clues. I came across a plane ticket to take me back to the city. I found some comfort in that minute detail being resolved. In the left breast pocket of my coat I found a small container holding two bright green eyeballs. They answered at least part of the reason for coming to Boston. The eyes were quite exquisite. Just looking at them I could feel the blood engorging my member, imagining the pain and suffering that yielded such an exotic treasure. Tearing myself away from the objects of my attraction I continued my search. It didn't reveal anymore surprises. After a quick splash of water to the face, I returned to the concourse more attuned to my surroundings. I surveyed the area for police, spotting a few at the far end laughing and joking over coffee and doughnuts. About an hour later I quietly boarded my flight and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Working out the Frustration - Body Count 97

Been a very trying week. Had to pony up just under ten grand to make my legal troubles go away. Someday very soon that waste of flesh is going to have to reap what it has sown. With Candace busy with my predicament and her other workload we've barely seen each other. I found myself missing her. It's amazing how much I've come to depend on her in carnal matters. Coupled with all of these matters, it was Laurie's first week of work. Her youth and personality captivated much of the office. She held my attentions for most of the week, fantasizing about violating her in ways she's only dared to think of in terrible nightmares, taking liberties with each of her orifices and maybe cutting a few more. When she's had her fill I'll open her ripe flesh to release an ocean of red. By the time Friday rolled around I was a walking powder keg of lust and violence. A stalk around the Loop seemed like a pleasant way to spend the evening. I was meet with an unexpected surprise when I stepped of the train platform - Oktoberfest. The cattle never cease to amaze. They hold a festival named for a specific month in the wrong fucking month. Unbelievable. On the plus side, the mock German festival provided plenty of drunken targets of opportunity. Walking through the beer garden I quickly spotted several ideal candidates. I also spotted several cops. An overwhelming hatred for the officers crashed over me like a wave. My attentions quickly shifted to the cops. Killing them always presents specific challenges, but it also grants a special rush other kills rarely yield. I focused on a veteran officer. They usually make easier targets. They're slower and more self consumed making it easier to get close to them undetected. My prey eventually walked away from the crowd, as the cops always do. It settled into a spot behind some of the stationary beer trucks to have a cigarette. I easily crept up to slit it's throat from behind and left before it's body hit the ground. I prefer to relish in the kill but part of the experience of slaying law enforcement officials is to escape undetected.

The Process

Though I am loathe to admit it, sometimes the most mundane chores make living amongst the cattle palatable. With the economy crawling back to it's knees the company has decided to invest in more employees. I've been conducting interviews for the last two days. It's been a parade of resumes and degrees with barely distinguishable faces. I can feel the wear on my "human mask". It cracks a little more with each idiotic syllable that spews from their mouths. This morning I was taken by surprise. A young brunette fresh out of college entered my office with a certain presence and confidence exuding from her. I must admit I was a little dumbstruck when Laurie began to introduce herself. Her deep blue eyes were penetrating and forceful. I quickly became lost in them while she prattled on with the rehearsed lines her professors had drilled into her head. As the words trailed off and become a dull roar, I could see myself opening her flesh very slowly with a nice, sharp blade. Her skin would retract from its cold hardness before I pierced her. How those magnificent eyes would light up with the first thrust. I would paint the walls gory red and bathe naked in the crimson river of her. As the conversation came to a close blood was rushing to my member with each hastened heart beat. We each said our closing pleasantries and parted ways. I think I'm going to hire her tomorrow.

Labored Days - Body Count 96

Took the week off to recuperate after this weekends activities. Spent a few days with Candace, trying our best to ignore my legal predicament. She has been invaluable to me over the last few weeks. Maybe given time she can rise above her "human" status and become enlightened. She was called into her office on Sunday evening cutting our time together short. It fascinates me that she jumps and runs whenever they pull her leash. That will have to be the first string cut for her to become illuminated, but I digress. Left to my own devices I got the itch to kill. I wasn't in the mood to hunt, just to hurt. After a quick trip to a hardware store I boarded a train to one of the city's seedier areas, the kind of place overrun by hookers and junkies. These areas always have a special place in my heart. They are almost universally void of police or authority of any kind. The cattle here live by their own rules or lack thereof. A society unto itself, void of the usual niceties plaguing the rest of the cattle. I found a streetwalker that was a little rough around the edges and would surely be missed by no one. It told me it could blow my mind for $50. It pulled me by the hand towards a nearby building. I had to resist the urge of jerking my hand from its flesh crawling touch. The building was obviously a squatter commune. Mattresses and empty liquor bottles littered nearly every square foot of the floor. A few residents were off in various parts of the building, too far away to make out any faces in the darkened building. The hooker led me to a candlelit room that served as its "office". It got down to brass tacks and asked for the money. I handed over two $20s and a $10 to greedily waiting hands. When the whore turned to pocket the money I quickly pulled out some duct tape and violently covered its mouth. It kicked and struggled against me, but I easily subdue the beast, binding hands and feet with tape. I stood over the prone hooker, watching as it writhed in terror. I could feel myself hardening at the anticipation. I removed my store bought hammer and went to work. A calcium deficiency was quite evident as bones snapped like dried twigs with each swing. In a few short blows the streetwalker have become jelly in a tube top. The dim candles gave the pool of blood an enchanting quality. Possibly the best $50 I've spent.

Like Buying A Hooker

Candace spoke to her former brother in law's attorney yesterday. It's willing to drop the assault charges for a to be determined sum of money. This complicates matters for me. The money is inconsequential. It has more to do with the principle. That waste of flesh and bone was going die by my hand in a gruesome manner to begin with, but now I have to pay for the pleasure. Not really sure what to think of that. Regardless, it's death is going to require some reconnaissance and some clandestine moves. A simple, elegant murder is out of the question. It may be possible to orchestrate an accident of some kind. A fiery car crash is always a crowd pleaser.

Stalking After Midnight - Body Count 95

Went out for a hunt to clear my head last night. With the impending arraignment for my assault charge I was overcome with the urge to kill. Having to leave this matter in Candace's hands has left me with an uncomfortable impotence. A visit to the Loop seemed like an ideal place to get back in the game. So many things have happened lately that I've been derelict in my duties. It was high past time for a return. When I arrived the area was in full swing. The students are back full time and their infectious presence permeates every square inch of the Loop. Some times seeing so many cattle in front of me makes me regret the clandestine nature of my calling. To be able to massacre these beasts en masse would be a dream. But alas I must always restrain myself and remember the adage about Rome not being built in a day. I walked around the streets for about an hour when I came upon a scene outside of a tavern that piqued my curiosity. A petite blond girl was having a dramatic, almost hysterical argument with a large, drunken oaf. A few passersby made lewd comments of the scene, but none of the cattle seemed to be that interested in the proceedings, making it difficult for me to remain inconspicuous. The argument ended with the girl screaming obscenities and the oaf aggressively pushing the girl to the ground. Some of the street traffic came to the girls aid and a few went to confront the oaf. It simply shoved it's way past the opposition and drunkenly staggered down the street away from the commotion. I had originally set my sights on the blond girl, but the scene reminded me too much of my recent dealings. I shadowed the oaf to one of the nearby parking garages. It vacantly stared around at the various cars and finally settled on one. While it clumsily fished a key from its pocket I moved in for the kill. The first thrust of my knife plunged deep into its back, puncturing a lung. It tried to swing around and face me only to find another blade rushing towards its throat. Catching squarely on the jugular, profuse amounts of blood poured from the wound. The oaf quickly fell to the cement floor. With a little difficulty I was able to remove the blade from its back. Looking down at the oafs limp, dying body a wave of blood lust rushed over me. I began to stab viciously and repeatedly into the dying beast. When I was finally sated I stood over the bloody mass of flesh, breathing heavy and overcome with decadent pride in my work.

More Than Meets the Eye

Got out of holding about 5:00 this morning. The cops picked me up late yesterday evening and held me on the assault charge. They put me through the paces, finger printing, mug shot, movie tough guy threats, etc. When they were finished with the dog and pony show I was finally able to get my phone call. I debated for a moment on who to call. The bail was only $1000. Unfortunately, I don't carry that much cash on me. I could have dialed one of those ridiculous ghetto bail bondsman you see on daytime television but that just seemed like it would be inviting in more cattle that I would have to kill that much sooner. In the end I phoned Candace. Due to the late hour I got her voice mail. I calmly explained the situation and headed back to my cell to wait. I was crammed in a cage with about a dozen cattle being held for various charges. I quietly found myself a corner and stayed away from them. It took about two hours for Candace to show up. When she came in it was like watching a walking force of nature. She had dressed hastily in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Her simple adornments belied the beast she had become. A raging fire burned in her eyes and in her every movement. She spoke jaggedly and forcefully to the officers. I'm not sure, but I think one of them was getting ready to cry. I knew she was a skilled lawyer, but to see her be so vicious was exhilarating. I've never been more attracted to her.

No One's There

Woke up to a to a frantic phone message from Candace this morning. After her ex-brother-in-law left the hospital yesterday it decided to press charges. The police have already visited her and now they're looking for me. Unbelievable. Even a known abusive piece of shit alcoholic that gets their just desserts can hide behind the law. I should be outraged at all parties involved in this unfortunate turn of events, but I know I'm to blame. It's my fault for losing sight of what's important and mingling amongst the cattle when I should have slaughtered them long ago. I let my physical attraction to Candace cloud my better judgment. And now it would appear I'm going to have to face some consequences for that.

Death Over Dinner

Had a family dinner with Candace's family last night. What a torturous experience that was. Her niece that survived the blast turned fifteen and wanted a family dinner at Kobayashi Grill. I thought it kind of odd that a child would want Japanese for their birthday until I realized it was one of those grills where the cook speaks in broken English and does a ridiculous floor show while cooking. About 5 minutes into to the chopping and flipping and cutting I wanted to slice and dice chunks of the cook's body with his chef's knife. The girl seemed to be enjoying herself. She smiled brightly and laughed at the culinary acrobatics. Her joyous smiled starkly contrasted the fading scars on her face and body. Every time I looked at her I could feel a deranged, maniacal outburst of laughter welling behind my "human mask". The girl's absentee father showed up half drunk and late for festivities. Candace had filled me in on the back story of her sister's divorce. I didn't really care, but I listened intently for her sake. The father sat at the end of the table near it's daughter. It drank heavily and shot it's mouth off wildly, casting offhand insults at his former in-laws and the service staff. It made a few outlandish promises to the girl with no intention of ever keeping them. It looked down the table at me a few times, glaring and trying to be intimidating. After summoning up some more liquid courage it started to hurl insults at Candace and me. Candace and her family were prepared to deal with this outlandish behavior for the sake of her niece. Not being of the family and not tolerating cattle that don't know their place, I had no qualms about silencing the piece of shit. I excused myself walked towards it and broke a beer bottle across it's face. As it fell back I started to pummel it with a flurry of punches. Responding to the shouting and cries of fear around me I composed myself. I threw a handful of twenties on the table, wished the girl a happy birthday and walked out. I checked my phone when I got home to see several missed calls from Candace. I'm not ready to talk to her just yet. She'll need time to digest what she witnessed. After the incident the genie maybe out of the bottle so to speak. She's very smart. She might be able to connect the various murderous around the city to me.

It Comes With The Rain

Staring from office window I watched the cursed rain fall on this cursed city. It painted every square inch of concrete and steel a darker shade, like a revealing shot of the inner beast hidden from the naked eye. The mindless cattle scurried for shelter never once paying any mind to the darkness that surrounds them. Such thoughtless, useless creatures they are. To see this planet in all it majesty beleaguered with such a blight is a heartbreaking affair. It suggests to me a fundamental flaw in the grand design of celestial mechanics. It's a shame this office is so exposed. I could sit here all day and pick off the cattle with a high powered rifle. One by one their heads would explode in a crimson mist as the bullets penetrated their skulls. The streets would flow with blood and brain matter instead of this fucking rain. It would come in great gushing waves, drowning the rats and the sewer ecosystem. It would take away much of the thrill in hunting the cattle and the kill would be inferior, but there are times when quantity greatly outweighs quality.

All The News is Fit to Print

Scanning through the news over the last few days I found a few articles detailing my recent exploit and some of my past activities. There was the usual police bullshit about them using all available resources to apprehend the person or persons responsible for these heinous crimes. While I do take a certain amount of pride in seeing my work being recognized it does weigh on the heart that it is so misunderstood. Perhaps it's for the best that the cattle don't comprehend the true nature. In time future generations may look back on my body of work and think of me as an artist. Possibly the first artist to work exclusively in the medium of flesh. As amusing as that possibility is, it still would be a misunderstanding. I came across another series of crimes while scanning the news. One insolent writer tried to connect them to me. They're childish to say the least but they do intrigue me. A masked figure has been terrorizing the females near the Galleria area for the past few months. Not physically harming them, the figure has been holding them at gun or knife point instilling traumatizing fear in his victims. The assailant whips himself into a sexual frenzy, ejaculates and then flees from the scene. I didn't read all the details of attacks, but it seems that this should be a slam dunk for the police.

Serenity in Murder - Count 94

Feeling very relaxed this morning. The air has that soothing sweetness to it again. I still haven't discovered any underlying reasons for going to the good detective's home, but at the moment I don't really care. I'm still reveling in my post kill bliss. I can still taste that girls fear. It radiated from every pore in her supple young body. Her flesh jumped at the slightest caress of my knife. The razor sharp blade sank easily into her skin. I don't think she even felt the first incision until she saw the blade travel from her navel towards her face. Her eyes exploded in terror. In them I could see her frustration as she tried to fight the growing effects of the paralytic to no avail. Her eyes weren't special enough for me to take, but they held my attention as I brought her closer and closer to her delicious death. She wanted it in the end. The massive fear was overtaken by resignation. Her telling eyes spoke of her acceptance of her coming demise. The hazel eyes stared back with a defiance as she bled out. I always have to admire that final defiance in the face of adversity. It seems that is the only time the cattle can rise above their station and become human.

Search and Destroy

The monotony of my job has allowed me ample time to dwell on recent events. I've been asking myself several questions. Why was I at Black's house? Did I intend to kill him? It hasn't been a waking thought of mine. He doesn't pose any immediate threat to me, especially in light of his domestic issues. Maybe there's something I'm missing in the big picture. A physical manifestation of some subconscious fear. I need to clear my thoughts, get a new perspective on things. I think I'm going to head to the Loop tonight. The university is getting ready for the fall semester. There should be a whole crop of fresh cattle ripe for slaughter. Some many mindless drones in need of death. A bloodletting always seems to clear my head and the Loops residents have lived in false security for far too long.

Dream Revelations

Had just about given up on recovering any shred of my lost days until last night. I had a dream about Detective Black that so disturbed me I was compelled to act on it. In the dream the I was standing over the good detective's lifeless body, staring down at the pool of blood radiating from the gaping knife wound in his chest. When I looked up from the corpse I saw Mirror Man standing a few feet away, grinning at me devilishly with a dripping butcher knife in his hand. Mirror Man lunged at me and we wrestled to the ground, each struggling for advantage. I felt a cold searing in my abdomen as his knife plunged in deeply. I awoke on the floor tangled in blankets. I spent a few minutes searching the internet to find Detective Black's address. It's amazing how simple it is to find anything about anyone if you have a computer. I arrived at his Galleria address a little after noon. I was a little taken aback at the extravagance of his home. It's much more than what would be affordable on an honest police officer's salary. Perhaps the good detective isn't quite so good. After stalking around his residence for a while I finally caught sight of him, or what used to be him. He appeared much more haggard than our last encounter, but exactly as I had seen in my dream. his living room was also identical to my dream. He was sitting on a couch staring blankly at a photograph and drinking heavily from a bottle of Macallan. The toll of losing his child and his wife's subsequent trial have weighed very heavily on him. He didn't die as in my dream like I expected to see, but I was definitely here at some point during my missing days. The next question is why was Mirror Man in the dream.

Strange Days Indeed

Still no signs of my missing days. I've been constantly fixated on the news every waking moment between work and placating Candace. I've barely slept in days and still nothing. Several murders, but nothing that I would do. Mostly a bunch of idiot cattle squabbling over trivial things and ending in bloodshed. One item did catch my eye though. An occult store owner named Patric Elgin went missing several days ago. It doesn't fit my time line, but it's interesting nonetheless. The article states that Elgin is a part time professor in medieval at the university and is considered to be pillar of his community. I find "occult" and "pillar of the community" to be mutually exclusive of one another, generally speaking. Usually hearing occult makes the civic leaders shrivel in fear and the churches round up their believers began their crusade against Satan. I'm actually curious to see how this turns out.

No Revelations

So far no discoveries in my missing days. I ferociously searched the news for any signs, but to no avail. I decided to call in sick to try and wrap my head around things. I ended up having lunch with Candace to try to smooth things over. She was predictably pissed at me. I put on my "human mask" and explained the pressures I was having to deal with in my new position. I milked the sympathy for all it was worth. It was pretty effective, in fact she apologized to me for getting upset. It was a rather comical episode. While we were dining I noticed a reflection in the glass. Seated a few tables away from us was Mirror Man having lunch with a group of cattle. He looked like he was having a business meeting. I hadn't even thought of him since the day I lost him in the garage. I could feel the anger and hatred rising below the surface. I kept my attention divided by his every move and Candace's babbling. After a time he became aware that he was being watched. I saw him cautiously glance around the dining room. He caught a glimpse of my reflection. A leering smile plastered his face. His contempt brought my anger to the surface. Candace could see a change in my demeanor as my skin became flush. She asked if I was alright. I managed to slide my "human mask" back on and placate her. We finished our meal and I walked her out and got her a cab. After she was gone I returned my focus to Mirror Man but he was nowhere to be found. I asked the hostess if it had seen him go, but it was no help to me. I hopped on a train and rode around for awhile but I couldn't find a trace of him.

Lost Days

Woke with a start this morning. It was several minutes before I recognized my own bedroom. I have no recollection of the last 48 hours. I remember leaving the office late Friday evening. I took the train to the Galleria to meet Candace. We had a quiet dinner at Gnucci's. I remember leaving with her and going back to her place. Everything after that is a blur. My first thought was that I had killed her. My mind raced at the prospect of having to cover up her murder two days after the fact. I looked at my phone and saw several missed calls and text messages from Candace, 3 dated this morning. I read the texts and listened to the voice mails, trying to piece together at least part of the weekend. I gathered that at some point late Friday or early Saturday I abandoned her bed without telling her. Lot of anger and worry in her voice. I'll call her later. I'll explain that I had something urgent at the office. I'm pretty sure I can portray sympathy well enough to make her feel bad about being upset with me. In the mean time I have to figure out what the hell happened and why I can't remember. These blackouts are becoming more frequent. If I don't get a handle on them soon all my plans with lay in ruins.

Missed Calls

Been so wrapped up in the new position and my failed project at the water tower that I've been neglecting Candace. She left several voice and text messages for me over the past several days. The messages had a progression from jovial to angry to worried. I finally spoke to her last night. I put on my best "human mask" and tried my hand at remorse. Apparently it worked. She quickly forgave me of my workaholic ways. She did give me a lecture on not working too hard and ignoring her. I lost count of how many times "I know" and "I'm sorry" dribbled out of my mouth. It began to feel like beating my head against the wall. I started to wonder if all this nonsense is worth my time and energy, literally making a mental pros and cons list as I spoke to her. In the end the pros won out for the biggest pro of all - she may be extremely useful as an alibi or hostage if things get out of hand.