“The Purists,” Samuel Antezana

The subject had been visited within the last 12 minutes to confirm if he was in good condition. Nothing appeared to be wrong with him, except for the fact that he reeked of urine and shit, plus he begged. Poor bastard didn’t know that begging turned this master on even more. This master loved beggars.

Master had been the most recent of the organization selected to conduct the purification ceremony. Whenever a master reached the age of 60 they were required to step down and submit a form suggesting who in the organization should take his or her position.

Jonathan Rames, a man of great standing, a man of great character and a man of no remorse, had been the suggestion of the previous master. Jonathan had great experience in the art of purifying, which he began acquiring at a young age, as he had skewered his elder brother Stewart at the ripe age of 14.

Stewart Rames was also a man of great standing, but a man of poor character and a man who enjoyed torturing his youngest brother, Jonathan. Jonathan and Stewart had been home alone, as they most often were, because Mr. and Mrs. Rames had attended one of their weekly meetings with the company they were in charge of. They also did not bother too much with their sons, as their business was most important. These meetings stretched on to the late hours of the night, giving Stewart the chance to bond with his brother.

Stewart’s idea of bonding was tying Jonathan’s hands up to his bed-post, binding his feet together and leaving small cuts on the most unnoticeable areas of his body, such as under his armpits and his testicles.

“Now younger brother, remember what happens if you tell mommy and daddy, I won’t be as forgiving next time,” Stewart had said, waving a finger in Jonathan’s face.

Jonathan remained quite, like he always was, paralyzed with fear, drenched in sweat, a predicament he had grown very familiar with.

“How about this, since I see you think I’m being unfair. I’ll give you some type of an advantage okay? How does that suit you?”

Jonathan looked at his brother, his mouth chattering.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Stewart untied Jonathan and tossed him to the floor with a smack from his right hand.

Stewart set a kitchen knife in the middle of their bedroom and told Jonathan to place his back to the other side of the room, behind the bed, while he himself went to the other side of the room, with nothing obstructing his path. Stewart had told Jonathan that if he were to reach the knife first then the torture would carry on, but if Jonathan were to reach it then it would come to an end.

Little did Jonathan know, his brother was playing a cruel joke on him, one that would cause Jonathan to break in a way that neither of them could have been prepared for.

Stewart lifted up his left hand and signaled, “One! Two! Three! GO!”

Jonathan pushed himself off the wall with both of his hands as hard as he could, bouncing on top of the bed and propelling himself to the floor near the knife. Meanwhile, Stewart had not moved a muscle.

Jonathan lifted up the knife in both of his hands, staring at it.

Stewart slowly began clapping and walking towards his brother who remained in the center of the room.

“Lovely brother, simply lovely. I’m sure you wonder why I did not move. Can’t you see I could have never beaten your speed. You’ve always been faster than me,” Stewart explained calmly, while walking towards his brother.

Jonathan remained still, an expression of wonder beginning to fill his face as he continued to stare at the blade in his hands.

Stewart stopped in front of Jonathan, smiling.

“Hand it over idiot” he said, chuckling.

However, Jonathan was no longer there at that moment. He had been transported to a realm of power, one where he was free to do what he wanted, where he wanted and to whomever he wanted to.

“Are you deaf?”

Jonathan returned to the room. His brother’s words echoed within his mind, then as if on cue, he began thrusting the knife into his brother’s fat stomach, revealing his intestines.

Stewart screamed as he witnessed the transformation of his brother, he was no longer his pet. Something had awakened within him, something that could not be reasoned with. Stewart’s screams of pain were ecstasy to Jonathan. He felt the essence of power control every movement within his body, every cut being made.

When Mr. and Mrs. Rames returned home from their meeting, they went upstairs and found Jonathan sleeping on his bed. However, Stewart lay on the floor in a pool of blood beside Jonathan’s bed, his stomach torn open, two of his ribs sawed off and placed into his eye sockets, his heart in his mouth.

Jonathan was taken away to a police station where investigators asked him why he did it. However, no response was to be found. Jonathan was not himself.

Jonathan had not given any information to the police.

“You’re not getting out of this kid, even if we can’t lock you up here, we’ll lock you up in juvi! So, just tell us what we need to know!” said one of the frustrate investigators.

It was useless. Jonathan would not talk to anyone, not even his parents, who were horrified of him.

“Jonathan darling, please tell these good men what they need to know, you’re not making things any more easy,” his mother would say.

A couple of days past and Jonathan would still not say anything to anyone. But on one particular afternoon at the police station, Jonathan’s silence was disrupted by an officer who stepped into the holding room where he spent all day in. He looked at Jonathan, a disgusted look on his face.

“A letter for you, here,” he said, placing the enveloped on the table in front of Jonathan.

Jonathan was surprised. He did not know of anyone in the outside world who would want to make contact with him. His parents barely even kept in touch before the incident, now that he was a murdered, they would try to keep further away from him.

He examine the envelope before opening it. It was a plane white envelope, as common as any. However, in the center of the white surface was a symbol.

The symbol had a white dove in the middle, with a snake surrounding it.

Jonathan took up the envelope and ripped the letter open. Within it lay a short message.

Dear Jonathan,

It is to you that we wish our sincerest apologies. We have only recently been told of your ghastly predicament and we wish to offer our services to you. Yes, this may come off as very strange to you, but we have kept are eye on you ever since we came in contact with your parents at one of their meetings. You are very special Jonathan and we want to tell you so much more about us, about our organization. Therefore, we have dispatched one of our finest attorneys to come and aid you in answering the questions presented to you by the police and help you when your case comes to court. We’ll be meeting soon Jonathan, until then: farewell.


The Purists

Jonathan was completely confused, yet fascinated by the letter and who this organization really was, and even though he did not know the people who had written him the letter, the letter interested him.

The next day, Jonathan was visited by the attorney that was mentioned in the letter. His name was Mr. Rolfe.

“Jonathan my boy, we will get you out of here in no time. Trust me,” he calmly told Jonathan.

Jonathan looked at Mr. Rolfe and for the first time in a very long time, he smiled.

The next week was Jonathan’s court hearing. However, it was swiftly handled by Mr. Rolfe, who new how to maneuver his way about the law, like a shark beneath the water, the prosecution did not see this man coming.

As the letter had foreseen, Jonathan was freed. Mr. Rolfe bid his young client a gentle farewell, saying that The Purists “have wonderful things planned for your future.”

Jonathan was completely mesmerized by the idea of these people.

As soon as Mr. Rolfe left Jonathan outside of the courthouse, his parents came to his side, completely shocked and hesitantly asked him, “do you want to go home now Jonathan?”

Jonathan turned to them, looking into there eyes, for the first time since the incident.

“Stewart deserved what he got.”

They looked at the stranger that was their son, horrified at what they had just heard him say.

Jonathan turned away from them and walked across to the other side of the street and walked.

Later that day, he was met by a member of the organization, the individual who had written the letter.

“Jonathan, we have much to discuss my lad,” he said, with a smile on his face. “My name is Mr. Teller.”

“I want to know everything about The Purists,” said Jonathan, smiling.

“We will teach you everything.”

“I want to start now.”

“Of course!”

The man talked with Jonathan as they walked throughout the city. He told him the history of the organization known as The Purists. They were a secretive group, an underground society of sorts, who specialized in the torture of people for clients who paid the highest amounts to have them kidnapped. He also spoke of an individual within the organization known as “The Master.” The Master was the leader of The Purists, and Teller told Jonathan that he had garnered much interest within him.

“I want to meet The Master,” said Jonathan.

“That is where we are going my boy,” said Teller.

Jonathan did not realize that he had already met him. He was walking right beside him during their whole conversation.

The member who saw promise in the boy was the most recent master of the organization, James Teller.

Jonathan would not realize this until he was much older. However, Teller would pass away, which was the only way Jonathan found out that his old friend was The Master.

Teller had nominated the now older Jonathan. He remembered the blood lust in the boy’s eyes when he first saw him down at the courthouse during the afternoon of his release. Teller also realized that Jonathan would become detached from his subjects when it came time for work, because of how cruelly he had disfigured his own brother’s body. In Teller’s eyes, Jonathan was a perfect heir.

 “What did you say?” Jonathan asked his subject.

“PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS! I’LL PAY ANYTHING, PLEASE LET ME GO!” the man screamed, squirming on the table he was tied to.

Jonathan’s senses were heightened. He had been launched back to the moment his brother had begged him to stop stabbing him. The feeling was magnificent, it was an overwhelming feeling of ecstasy that filled his stomach and made his mind soar.

He picked up his favorite tool, the tool he has used on his brother on the day of his reawakening. The kitchen knife.

He began by making a slow incision across the man’s scalp, just like the customer had requested.

Take your time with this one, will you?

The man shrieked sharply, but Jonathan could not hear it. The initial begging of the man had driven him to the level of concentration and lethality that was activated when his brother lay on the floor of his bedroom when he was 14.

“This won’t be over soon.” Jonathan calmly whispered. “I was given orders to make you feel every second of this. Personally, I would be much messier, but hey, the customer is always right.”

The man gasped for air frantically, hoping that someone would know he was stuck here. He let out one final phrase, “Someone has to know I’m down here. They will come looking for me.”

“Darling,” smiled Jonathan as he lifted up his power drill from underneath the table, “you’re starting to bother me. I will have to disappoint the customer this time around. I hope they can understand once they see you. Oh well.”

The power drill echoed throughout the room as the man shrieked for what seemed like a lifetime to Jonathan. His best memories of life would lay rooted in this room and he would enjoy taking the life of every subject he received.

Thanks big brother.

Samuel Antezana is the author of this story. Samuel is a 20 year old Horror movie lover and Hip-Hop fanatic. On his spare time, he likes to write scary short stories or play video games.

























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