Muse of Ruin

by Stephanie Hurst

To Sauron, Ursula, Darth Vader, Norman Bates, Joker, Cersei Lannister, and Hannibal Lecter. Villains deserve love, even if it makes their skin crawl.

hate the term serial killer because it sounds too trivial. Artist is more appropriate, and Graham just became piece number twenty-five.

Art is self-expression, and the meaning of this piece is clear.

Many girls dream of a knight in shining armour rescuing them from certain peril. Not me. I stripped the knight, threw his naked ass out, and used his armour to make deadly weapons.

“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, Atlas. I told Helen to play nice with Zeus.”

They may not have dogs, but this bitch bites.

To catch them is my real test, to kill them is my cause. Prickemons.

Calm the fuck down, penis fly trap. Over my dead body, is he touching us.

“I’m going to kill you, Lelantos. You, Perses, and Atlas. That mission has never changed, not for me.”

“Let me be clear, Calliope. I was never going to hold back with you. I want to taste your blood, sweat and tears. You made a mistake agreeing to this, and we won’t leave here until you regret it.”

Out of the three, I owe Atlas the most. He pulled me back from the abyss when no one else could. Our demons fit one another perfectly, and he satisfies me on my darkest levels.

“I want him to choke on my blade, and when his blood starts pouring out of him, I want to ignore his struggles and keep shoving it down his throat.”