Chapter 10–The 13th Man

A Hunter’s Deed


Mankind is gifted with freedom and cursed with emotions. Among us, there are those who live in abomination that even words cannot speak of its pain. Their souls wed with fallen angels, the good and the bad, for Creator to be known. While I am unknown, both sides must be in battle to reclaim. I am just a hunter performing her unfinished deed. My emotions are not to be confused but conceived as common human manifestation. My subconscious and conscious are well crafted to do as willed.


A misfit by blood, Fred Vasquez Jr and I succeeded our ancestor’s fate.


I live by the conduct of process. Within arguments of profiling, evidence should be gathered to justify execution. It took a month establishing patterns in his schedule with usual unprecedented meetings. He leads a normal life as a family man mostly Fridays and Saturdays, taking two convoy cars ensuring security on to BF Homes Paranaque. A wide media operated preachings come every Wednesday and Sunday. Conference with subordinates of assumed hierarchical position is held on monday at small coliseum in Manila. Although his regular contacts can solidify governmental and societal influence, I have spurred more interests in preoccupation without the burden of obligation. This is when I can postulate more from bizarre interests.

Minimal task earned Senator Sanchez’ heed carnal tantrums. In one of his calls, poker night is casual clearance to circle belonging. I have to be in for tonight’s game.


Blackwidow’s list includes legion of beasts masquerading as humans. They are tenants of history with unfathomable gift for swaying vulnerable dispositions. They grow a number of arms insignificant by itself. To eradicate them completely means eradicating the source.


Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata sweeps the moment before another exhausting night begins. Smoke belches out while observing dark city from glass window. My mind travels through lurid visions of the past. I hear their screaming, stirring ghastly affairs of rage inside. Don’t touch them. Take me. Those eyes—a vile reflection of pure evil. You must be enjoying this. Let’s tie her, so she can tell her friends how good we fuck. Five of them. Masturbating at the sight of human suffering. Cigarette burns. Stabbing force. Eyes hardly opening from swells. Naked for profane amusement. Their armors propelling fast until they finished. One killed another. Some killed themselves. I got out of the room barely surviving..



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Abby Mabb

Snarly female. Occasional book reviewer.

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