Son of Fire…

was the name he took on for himself. He had spent all his life hearing the spook stories about women. Well, demonic women anyway. So he did his best to avoid the human ones who exhibited their traits to him. It’s not like his mother had shown him the softer nature of women. So really can you blame him?

Son of the Damned …
is what his victims called him right before they died. Those who exhibited demonic traits. Like anger, jealousy, greed, lust… He was saving other men from their evil. Those poor sods who had no idea they had fallen into the clutches of less than pure women. He could smell them. And they knew him as well. They seemed to think he was Prince Charming, ready to fall to his knees and serve them with grace. They met his knife and carving skills instead.

Son of the Devil…
is what the papers called him. But oh no, he was trying to save them. Didn’t they understand him? Didn’t they know how evil women could be? He shared the campfire stories and his mother’s tale with them in his many letters to their best journalists. But still they called him the evil one??

Son of Mary and Stewart…
is what the judge called him when the police brought him to the courthouse. He bowed to that authority, They had birthed him and raised him in their own inimitable way. He was what he was due to their bad parenting.

Son of Crazy…
is what the other inmates called him when he explained his philosophy. They beat, raped and murdered cuzz they were high mostly. Or their daddies had taught them that was the way of things. To his fellow serial killers, he stood alone. To them he was a superstitious zealot.

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