Considering Cronus is mute, I’ve never heard his story from him. I know he’s capable of speaking—he just refuses to. I looked into him once before and saw that his mother locked him in a closet when he was young and refused to let him out for months. He went silent after screaming for his mother until he lost his voice and hasn’t spoken since.
Jackal and Timothy grew up in the foster care system since as long as they could remember. Moving from house to house—one abuser to the next. They’ve told me stories about their experiences in some of the foster homes, and they nearly brought me to tears.
We’ve all been deprived of love and find plenty of it in each other.
My dollhouse has been settled into its new resting spot in Houston, Texas, and the fair will open soon. Mortis has been feeling me up all fucking day, trying to fuck me when I’m trying to focus. I have the feeling he’s going to call the rest of my henchmen in soon to try and relax me. They know when they gang up on me, all their cocks surrounding me—I can’t resist.
I don’t need that distraction right now. What I need is to focus.
There’s been times I’ve come to a city and haven’t been able to sense evil at all in the guests who arrive. I know they’re out there, but something kept them away from me. Kept them from walking into their deserved fate.
Those days are the worst. It’s a day wasted, no walking evil to be rid of. Still tainting this Earth with their rot. I always plead to our creator, why did you let them get away? Why let scum continue to live and breathe another day?
It feels like parasites are crawling beneath my skin when those days come to pass. Which is why I’ve made it my mission to make sure the evil comes to me. I can’t risk letting the demons slip away. If I do, they’ll continue to taint this world with their filth.
I think back to the latest demon I killed, how his girlfriend was hanging on him when they walked through my house. Her roses would’ve wilted and crumbled from the tar he surely would’ve spread on her petals.
Just like Mommy’s did when Daddy tainted her with his sins.
I need to prevent that. This world deserves to be pure. Mommy deserved to stay pure, too. And even though she’ll never get to experience it, her flowers wilted so I could be born into this world and create a new world—one without evil.
During the day, the houses are shut down and the dressed-up monsters walk the fairgrounds. They scare the little kids, chase after the adults and send them running towards whatever money-sucking machine they reach first. Whether it’s an ATM or a credit card terminal that grants them access to greasy food and endless tickets.
I like to explore during the day, sniffing out the immoral ones in the crowd. On a good day, I get overwhelmed by the amount of black souls walking this Earth. I can’t kill them all, but I try my best to lure them towards my dollhouse.
Usually I just approach them, doing my job and scaring them. They laugh and smile, while I shudder from my need to execute them. I adorn an innocent face and tell them to come play with me in my dollhouse. I make promises of how fun it’ll be, a wicked smile on my face. That, I don’t have to fake.
Most times, it works like a charm.
Then when night falls, I eagerly wait within the walls. Annie’s Playhouse only allows up to ten people to come through at a time, that way my house doesn’t become overcrowded. It grants me all the time I need to watch each guest closely, following them for a bit while I decide if their souls are tainted or not before moving onto the next.
I don’t know all the sins that dirty a soul. The obvious rape or murdering someone for nothing else than one’s own gain or pleasure will taint a soul. But I don’t believe all of the demons have committed such heinous crimes. Some are smarter, keeping their darkness deep within. Some might peruse the dark web, jacking off to child porn or reading cookbooks on how to grill human meat. Some of them take their pleasures in other species, fucking animals and recording it. The ones that don’t fuck them usually kill them. Innocent animals succumbed to torture because there’s a sickness residing in humans.
Or maybe they don’t do any of those things, but just simply desire to. Afterall, every crime begins with an innocent thought—a simple desire that’s nothing more than a kink or a what if. Until those desires evolve and become actions.
There are surely a million different reasons, and I don’t care to figure them all out. They all smell the same. Rotten and evil. Just like the pure tend to have sweet or nature scents. The flowers are my favorite—they’re the purest.
I’ve noticed the decrepit souls as far back as I can remember. Mommy and Daddy were members of the Saintly Baptist Church. Daddy loved to bring in people to worship his word, citing that he’s God’s disciple and his word carries power.
People believed him. Thousands of people believed him. He became their God. At night, when Mommy would go to sleep, I’d wake up to the sounds of screams. I’d sneak out of the room, tiptoe down the hall and see several naked people in the room with Daddy, pleasuring him. From what I saw, he never returned the favors—at least not
