Lysander's Notebook Book Four

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Lysander's Notebook

by L. Gathenwale

Day Seven:

The Sewel woman pratters on endlessly. And she dares to speak Thy Name, Master! I wish so vehemently to take a knife to that little neck of hers. She struts around the chambers of Thy Sanctum with her repugnant airs, her scholarly conjecture on this or that. That I could peel the skin from her face and show her how vile and ugly she truly is, how unworthy of entrance to Thy Sanctum. I must take her, Master. I must rend that little wench to pieces. I ask this gift of Thee, that I might cleanse Thy Sanctum of her presence. Give me the Sewel woman and I shall show you my mastery of Death, Master. I shall cut her to bits and scatter them before the others as a warning. I cannot stand her presence, I cannot abide it. And Drummel! He is a pustule that must be lanced, a sickness that I must cure by blade and fire. Not a trace of him will be left when I'm done with him. Praises to Thee, Master. I shall honor Thee with many sacrifices, soon enough.