Scorpion Chronicles

Wednesday, April 30th:
Just got stung by a scorpion in the middle of the bottom of my foot. This is so much more painful than I imagined. Like… Way way worse.

Thursday, May 1st:
Tonight’s kill count: 2. Remember, scorpions, as you look on the shattered corpses of your dead, you started this. You attacked me in my home, and now I shall bring you suffering and death. You worshiped at the altar of war, and now you shall have it.

Get on board the scorpion slaughter or get out of my way. I shall become synonymous with death among the arachnids, until they quake at the mention of my name. They shall rue the day they set their legs on my property.

Good has nothing to do with this. This is war. Were I granted the power, I would purge them from this earth with fire. They would die wreathed in flames, watching their children turn to cinders. I would destroy them utterly, leaving them a ruin, until the other insects spoke of them only in whispers, a cautionary tale. I shall scribe my hatred for them into the black books of wrath, that my anger by known for countless eons. Future generations will speak of the horrors I have unleashed on the scorpions. They shall know no peace. Only death.

I speak in the terms of rage and death and ceaseless war. Would that I could bring them suffering for a thousand years, I would. Their is an empire of blood, and I shall see them drowned in their own coin.

Friday, May 2nd:
Tonight’s kill count: 3. Look on my works from your place in hell, scorpion. You drove me to this madness, and your people pay in the coin of death. Is this what you wanted? Do you feel pride? My vengeance has not even the first tinglings of being sated. Your people’s ruin has but the first futile stitches woven in the tapestry of fate. In the morrow I shall turn the very earth against your brethren. The ground shall be as poison. Like Carthage of old, I shall sow doom and ruin into your fields.

 I have two blacklights and poison enough to fell a horse. These chitinous horrors stand no chance against my ceaseless purges. Theirs is a kingdom of death and terror.

Saturday, May 3rd:
Tonight’s kill count: 1. Your numbers dwindle. I wonder if cowardice or attrition is the cause. Is there a difference? You wanted to meet on the field of battle and here I am. Where are your multitudes? Where are your ceaseless numbers to throw themselves against the wall of my resolve? Do you give up so easily? Are you resigned to defeat? Come, you weaklings, and try yourselves against my might. Bring your armor against my resolve and see which walks away crushed. I await you. I shall slake my thirst with your tears.

Sunday, May 4th:
Tonight’s kill count: 1. Imagine my surprise, scorpion, when I stepped outside of my door to see you sitting right there. Did you hope to sue for peace between us, or is it that were acting as an assassin, hoping to creep unbidden into my home under cover of darkness? In either case, yours was a fool’s errand, as you learned to deadly consequence. You should have followed the lead of your brother in arms, who earlier fled over the fence on my arrival. I assume my reputation preceded me and he ran like a coward. I poisoned the wall where he once stood, a symbolic gesture, but one that demonstrates my absolute dominance in this endeavor. All around the perimeter of my house lie the crushed and broken corpses of the fallen. Shall I mount them on pikes in a grotesque display to educate your comrades on the folly of coming here? Or shall I heap them into a charnel pile and add ever more to the tally? The sight of them brings me joy, for it represents my wrath made manifest. My rage embodied. Do you feel its heat? You shall dance in the flames of my righteous indignation.

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