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by KeithGaston

by KeithGaston

CHAPTER ONE

ALIVE

The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.

-- African Proverb

Aristides McKnight tasted the brandy and let it linger in his mouth, appreciating the blend of fruit and citrus spice on his tongue before swallowing. He liked to sit in the study, surrounded by books, isolated from the rest of the world as he worked on his manuscript. The volumes of leather-bound hardcovers in the study produced a pleasing fragrance, unlike anything else. He breathed it all in as if it were lifesaving oxygen administered to a dying patient. Taking one last sip from his glass before resuming his writing, he looked thoughtfully over the completed work thus far.

"Perfection," he said aloud, his voice reverberating in the sealed room. Just as he put his drink down, a soft tap at the door announced that someone required his attention. "Come," he snapped. Everyone knew not to disturb him during his writing. Whatever this is, it better be important.

Glancing over his shoulder, just as the door opened, Luna Acosta sheepishly poked her head inside. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Aristides."

He waved his hand dismissively in the air wanting her out of the study as soon as possible. "Yes, yes, get on with it, Luna. What do you want?"

"Naziha is awake. And, she's speaking," the woman replied, stepping fully into the room.

"Speaking, you say? Is it more of her gibberish?"

"No," Luna answered, almost gleefully. "You're going to want to hear this for yourself."

Interest piqued, Aristides' cocked an eyebrow, his green eyes turned a shade of gray. "I will be there shortly."

Without uttering another word, Luna closed the door as she retreated from the room.

Rising from the plush leather chair, he took three long strides to stand in front of a naked man hanging from shackles attached to the ceiling. Covered in fresh cuts that extended to nearly every inch of his physique, the man barely clung onto life. Meticulously plucked from his body by Aristides, not a hair remained anywhere on the man's figure.

The outstretched plastic beneath the man shifted under Aristides' feet as he reviewed the texts he'd carved into his victim's skin. "Perfection. But I'm not quite finished yet." Taking the man roughly by the jaw, he shook his head violently, until his eyes were opened and alert.

"W-why a-are you d-doing t-this?" the man gasped weakly.

"Because I can," Aristides replied. "Rest assured, your suffering is nearly at an end. There's just one last thing I must do."

Dumbstruck with terror, the man's wide gaze reflected his assaulter's grim smile. Long seconds passed before he voiced his thoughts. "W-what last t-thing?"

"I'm pleased that you asked." Gingerly picking up one of the knives from a tray, he considered briefly how to best answer his living canvas. "I have to dot the I's."

The man's agonized screamed gave pleasure to Aristides' as he drove the blade into his victim's eye.