7 Quotes by Mark Kirkbride

I reinvented myself. I acquired a taste for evil. I found I have a talent for it. And I murdered the old me.

Because, visible through the slashed covers, the bone-deep wounds that crisscross the couple’s bodies pump blood. Some of the flaps of skin resulting from glancing blows are like gills, breathing. Yet even as the cries die away, he carries on.

They say the mad live in a world of dreams, or nightmares. I just need to find the way out.

He waited until he heard sounds of sleep, which didn’t take long. Then he prayed, to the Devil.

Her curiosity tore at her. “Is it… Are you…” “Yes…?” “Is it you?” she said, breathlessly. He fixed her with his red, alien eyes. “What you mean is, am I the serial killer?” She blinked.

You never asked. It’s just, well… He doesn’t do a lot, does He? Our Father which art lost in heaven. I mean, if He did exist we’d have to sack Him. Or maybe He’s a laissez-faire God who just likes to watch.

It was true. She was his soul’s star. His heart ignited every time she came into the room, flared with every just-so gesture. Anything she touched became instantly talismanic.