Hello! Today I want to give you a little peek into my book, Murderous Masquerade. Below this note is the prologue to my novel. Please take a look and I hope you enjoy!
Prologue
THEIR EYES FASCINATE ME.
As they lay there, with their bodies strapped down and voices caged by the chemicals I injected, it’s their eyes that speak. Usually, it’s the self-same tale. Rage. Regret. Sorrow. Pain.
Always pain.
I take my time, making sure I get to revel in all their stories. When the end comes, I see the final burst of emotion. Acceptance. They now acknowledge that I am god. Their god. I can give, and I will take away.
My heart thunders, the moment draws near. Any second and I will find it.
The young man on the table glares at me. The anguish swirling around his iris is a glorious sight to behold. But it’s not what I’m waiting for. I hold off just a little longer.
In the years I’ve been doing this, there have been those that resist the inevitable. He must be one of them. Strong-willed. Stubborn. It will make his surrender all the more delicious.
Here it comes.
I watch the muscles of his face go slack. Then I stare into his eyes, waiting for the recognition to light in a final flicker before they go dull. Come on. He doesn’t have much longer.
My eyelids narrow, the nerve at my temple twitches. His eyes show acceptance, but not the one I was searching for. He isn’t regarding me as a god—his reverence is elsewhere. His eyes go dark.
As with all the others I proceed through the motions to prepare the body for disposal. My enthusiasm always wanes once they’re dead. But now I have anger fighting for dominance of my mind. How dare he.
I can’t stand it. His vacant gaze that didn’t give me my due.
I seize a sledge hammer from the tray beside me. With a vicious swing, I bring the heavy metal down to his skull. A satisfying crack echoes against the walls. I bash his face in again and again until every bone shatters. His once healthy, boyish face now looks like a discarded Halloween mask.
I cast the tool aside and brush the splatter of blood and brain matter off my face and clothes with a gloved hand.
I must mislead any investigations. He’ll need to be disposed of in such a manner that explains his physical state. I know the perfect spot: the sheer drop off at the mountain ridge. An ‘accidental’ fall from that distance would undoubtedly cause such severe facial trauma. I grin as I take in my work. Another productive day.
If you’d like to purchase the book, or read for free on Kindle Unlimited, please click here. Available in Paperback and Kindle.
K. D. Wakefield 