Reverend Insanity Author Novels & Stories

If Edith hadn't protected him, he probably wouldn't have survived to meet the female lead at all. Reading those comments made my chest tighten. I picked up my smartwatch, added him as a contact, and typed a message. 'I'm fine. Stop crying.' When I looked at Elias, my gaze held more than a hint of complexity. In a world like this, it seemed our fates were never fully in our own hands. I had selective mutism. He had been plagued by bad luck since childhood. Past life or present, it seemed neither of us ever caught a break.

I stood with a chair in my hands and stared at the empty doorway until the present room returned around me—bright, noisy, occupied by a different man in a black cassock. By midday I was carrying a box of the new priest’s books toward the parish library. The cardboard edge dug into my palms. Dust and old paper rose when I shifted my grip. Inside the library the air was cooler, polished, familiar. I set the box down and began shelving. That was when I saw them: the same volumes Cassian had borrowed and returned in the early hours before he vanished, spines aligned with bureaucratic neatness. I knew those books, They were the same books Mr. Halden had told me Cassian returned in the early hours

He read in silence, his expression growing darker with each page. "Jesus Christ," he finally said. "Dad is actually insane. Like, genuinely, certifiably unhinged." "He's not insane," Isabella corrected. "He's calculating. Every letter, every action—it was all deliberate. He knew exactly what he was doing." "Which makes it worse." Christopher set down the letters like they were contaminated. "Insanity could be excused, treated, understood. But this? This is just evil. Cold, methodical evil." Agent Torres arrived within an hour, another agent in tow. They examined the letters with professional detachment, but Isabella could see the impact in their eyes.

The man did some illegal things on the door and it opened, Isabel was stunned at how he used the instruments in his hand to open the door ," how dare you break into another person's house?" "I wish to know who dare to accommodate you," the man said with a very cold look. 'Who dare to accommodate me?' Isabel reiterated his words in her mind. "Who are you?" of course, Isabel find it reasonable to ask , to her , it was as if he was acting on someone's command cause why would he be interested in wherever she chose to stay. "I'm Marcus," the man smiled," but people call me 'Devilish Reverend' cause I'm good to people who are good to me and bad to people who are bad to me," Marcus laughed dryly.

How true is that statement for this damned world we live in, where nameless horrors always lurk in the dark, ready to catch us, trap us, and drag us to eternal ruin. I believe that insanity is a release from the restrictive limitations imposed on us by the expectations of our culture, our race and, above all, ourselves. The madman does not care what others think of him, because what leads a person to dementia is often the revelation that the world around him is not as safe or stable as he would like to believe, that it is a populated place by monsters that lurk just beyond the thin veil of reality, that can tear apart a man's soul as well as his body and destroy his mind.

“They tried to snuff out a shining life here, declaring our Henry Putnam dead. Someone needs to be held accountable. They wrote that child off, resigned to letting him slip away before his destiny could be fulfilled. But sometimes we find in death . . . there is life. “They have lied to you and to me. They have always lied. I say no more!” His arms were thrust before him, spread wide as if parting an ocean. “Tonight, we took it back . . . right here . . . we have the higher path. We took it and we shall do so again, herein ever after, from this moment forth. Yea, hear me before it’s too late!” The Reverend lunged back toward his pulpit, grasping for his open Bible—

She never saw Aiden so desperate for something the way he is for her forgiveness. ______________________ On the other hand, someone was going crazy knowing about her wedding. He was constantly shouting on his people. Devil was officially considered a devil after seeing him going crazy about an unknown girl. But they were not aware that their boss has become obsessed with that pour girl who is also suffering… “I will punish you, baby girl… I will punish you for choosing him, baby girl.” he was speaking this line crazily while inhaling a white substance. His eyes were red, jaw clenched with and veins popping from his muscles.

His sinistic hungry gaze bored deeper into her afraid hazel ones as he leaned his face closer to her and finally her existence froze hearing his those words. "I am an insane sinner and I will ruin my Heaven with my insanity, "

And tell me, will crying bring Gregory back? Her obsession with my so-called perfection had turned into madness. Dad's face was drained of color. He said nothing, only stumbled back a few steps. After Grandpa's funeral, Dad rarely came home. On one fateful evening, Dad left too. … As the memory slipped away, an unbearable sorrow rose inside me—my head pounded with searing pain, my thoughts spiraled out of control, and the sharp, mechanical beeping beside me cut through the air like a warning.

The man asked. I looked at him with uncertainty. I wasn't sure if I should share my current situation with him or not. "Don't worry. You can actually tell me anything you want to. I am a priest and I am sworn to secrecy of anything I am told." He said. I was still unsure but I decided to tell him anyway. "It's about my wife." I said. "What about her?" He asked. "She just went insane some months ago. Each day I visit her in the mental asylum she doesn't recognize me. She looks at me as if I am some kind of a beast." I explained to the priest.