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Chapter 23- Journal


Next to me the bed is empty.

Unbound by moon-light
her windowed shadow clenches darkness
like a bat
wrapped in its wings
.

Robert King/Journal

I’m sure some of you who read this story wonder how I decided to become what I am. In retrospect it is easy to say that if I knew then what I know now I might have made different choices. I can make no promises.

I became a monster not because I was inherently evil, to the contrary, evil repels me no less than I imagine it might you. Perhaps it would be more to the issue if we were to define the definition of evil that gave rise to my perversion of the good.

For me, evil was to live a life unexamined- to be a mindless member of the herd-one of the sheep. Thoreau stated: "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." I had no intention of that being my lot in life.

However, when I set out on my quest, I was not one of those shepherds who were able to control and direct the passion of youth. The early 60’s was a time of rebellion. “Question all authority” had become the watch-word of a generation that refused the hypocrisy that had debased the ideals of their parents. The role models for that generation were the outsiders. The rebels traded the no cause philosophy of the ‘Beat Generation’ for Existentialism, the very personal quest for individual meaning in a world without meaning. Out of the void each individual was to define their own existence. Countless capable, intelligent young people might have become doctors, lawyers, industrialists or insurance sales people. Instead, sincere in their search but depending upon questionable genius to guide them, they became anarchists, drug dealers, Hippies and outlaws.

I too was vulnerable. I too could have been lost among the beautiful losers as Tara was.

Instead, I met Dominique, the perfect predator. With her relentless encouragement my contempt for the sheep led me to another extreme.

I became the wolf.

Journal