Practical Guide To Evil Novels & Stories

he asked. I showed him and led his hand so he could find the blood spots. I thought it was better not to go out on the street with a guy who clearly looked like he butchered something… or someone. Maybe I supposed to be more concerned about it all. The speed at which I adapted to my current surroundings scared me. Maybe it was self-denying, maybe my mind chose to block the fact that I was dealing with people for whom human life was far less than sacred, but maybe… I was just getting used to it. They say that everyone carries their own darkness, it is simply our choice whether we would let it out or keep it locked. Mine, was clearly coming out on surface…

It wasn't that Ethan engaged in outright evil acts; he wasn't like many nobles who toyed with the lives of commoners, nor did he indulge in the vices of women or drugs. No, Ethan's vice lay in his propensity for destruction. When the urge to demolish took hold, he would become consumed by it, losing himself in the throes of his compulsion. In one such episode, he had accidentally taken the lives of several nobles, his mind clouded by the red mist of rage. It was a burden Ethan carried, a dark self that haunted his every waking moment. He knew that his actions, though unintentional, had caused immeasurable pain and suffering. The guilt had weighed heavily upon him, a constant reminder of the

"Dress in the black suit. The one that makes you look like you’re heading to a war room. Because when we walk down those stairs, that’s exactly where we’re going." As Roman walked out of the room to face his father, he realized the "Sinful Virtue" of the day: He was no longer protecting his family from her. He was protecting her from his family. And God help anyone who stood in his way.

The guide stumbled, his legs giving way beneath the borrowed form that was struggling to maintain itself in a reality that was no longer stable enough to support the distinction between solid and void. Eva caught him, pulling him upright, adjusting her grip so that she held both her mother's hand and the guide's wrist, her arms stretched between them like a bridge, a connection, a lifeline. "I can feel it," the guide whispered, his void-eyes now wide with something that looked almost like wonder, almost like horror. "I can feel the end. I can feel the realm letting go. It's not trying to hold us anymore. It's trying to—"