The Chosen – The Origin of Jamiesonn
Jamiesonn could remember his former life, a life that started so simply and full of promise. There was once a time when he recounted the days of when he was a mortal. He remembered there were many people from his former life who thought that he was born around 1763, but this was far from the truth. Jamiesonn was born in a filthy environment in a town called Nesikan, located in a small province in northern Russia.
He was born in 1329, to a woman of hideous by nature. He never knew his father. He could have been any number of men who used her for sex. His mother often frequented the local village when she needed food. Most of the time, the only thing she received was a beating. She was so easy and stupid.
Jamiesonn Sabbilarnotz grew up in a small shack infested with rats. It was made of stone for the lower part of the walls, and timber for the upper walls and roof. It was a far cry from even being livable. Day in, day out, the brutally he suffered from the hands of his mother, Olga, were commonplace, and by time he was a teenager he had become so conditioned to the violence that it had become natural to expect the torment. But something happened one day that changed his life.
He was fifteen when he met Danska at the local festival. Danska was young and beautiful. She was the same age as Jamiesonn. From the first moment he saw her, he loved her. But she didn’t feel the same, not in the least. She was repulsed by the sight of him.
She was the only daughter of a local merchant, and seeing an opportunity to advance her own social status, Olga bought her for all the silver she had, and the young couple were married, much to the disapproval of Danska.
As much as Danska despised Jamiesonn, she did like his mother, and the two of them formed a strong bond, mainly due to the fact that Danska’s own mother had died some years before from the plague.
Jamiesonn’s new life seemed like an ideal nightmare. He had a beautiful wife who didn’t love him, and he lived with his mother. The only thing that really changed for him was now he was married. The beatings continued and along with the physical abuse he suffered from his mother, he also endured emotional abuse from his wife. The longer he was in her presence, the more she hated him.
Even his first sexual experience was under duress from his wife, during one of her drunken rampages.
That Danska was sleeping with every new suitor who passed through the village was no big secret, but he didn’t see it. In his eyes, she was perfect and could do no wrong. He wasn’t even wise to the fact that she was having sex with travelers and anyone who offered food and warm clothing.
A year after his non eventful sexual experience, Danska gave birth to a stillborn, deformed male child. Of course, it wasn’t his, but his mother blamed him for this curse, and like any other day, he was beaten violently and then thrown out of the hut by his mother and his wife with nothing more than the tattered clothes on his back.
That day, his eyes were opened for the first time and he saw the true nature of his beloved wife. And his hunger for revenge on them both fueled his rage, and he would do anything—anything—to get it.
The revenge took place, seven years later.
Jamiesonn had gotten heavily involved in witchcraft and black magic. By the time he was twenty-two, he was second in rank to the high priest of a little known cult. This, in his eyes, was an achievement. Satan had become his lord and master and he gave his life to him. He was considered a promising son, and the high priest taught him everything there was to know about the forbidden realms in no time at all.
Exactly a year later, he became the high priest. As his sect grew, so did his power. His followers feared him greatly, because he would kill anyone who crossed him. The one aspect about his position that he truly loved was sacrifices. He took joy in sacrificing anything that had a heartbeat. Jamiesonn had grown into a person who knew only evil, and had great power to add to it. Before he could become Satan’s one and only son, he first had to prove his loyalty and devotion.
“If you want to be my son, you must go to those who persecuted you and do unto them what they did to you,” Satan had once told him.
Jamiesonn was excited about this. He could torture them at last. He had to torture their minds and bodies. Jamiesonn had no problems fulfilling his master’s wishes.
Olga and Danska never expected to see him approaching their filthy home, and they didn’t know that this man was in fact the teenager they had tortured many years ago. Jamiesonn was nonchalant about seeing Danska again. As much as he wanted to tear her flesh from her bones, he remained cool as ice. The only thing he had on his mind when he approached that shitty little hut was revenge.
Danska saw the strange, tall man, and obviously thinking he was just another customer, she rushed into the house. He could hear Olga snoring as she slept in the back room, and did not stir as Danska invited him in. Jamiesonn gazed around the room briefly, and saw that nothing had changed. He looked at Danska, and noticed how beautiful she still was, even though she was older.
“What would you like?” she asked.
Jamiesonn looked into the room where his mother slept, and then stood by the warmth of the stove. That hut brought back many painful memories. Danska shifted nervously from one foot to the other. She clearly felt uneasy with him just standing there, but she said nothing.
In the time between his departure and now, he had heard from travelers that these two particular women were known as the local prostitutes.
“Would my lord like some wine?” Danska asked.
He turned around and looked her right in the eyes. “You don’t remember me, do you?” His tone was calm and steady.
“I don’t know? Have we met before?”
He stepped closer to her. “Oh, yes. Many times.”
Danska looked at him hard, but there was no recognition in her eyes.
“I was one of your favors,” Jamiesonn stated.
Danska grew fearful. “I want you to leave.”
“You have no right to be here!”
“What rights did I have when I was bound, gagged, and tortured by you and my mother?” He paused, noticing the shock on her face. “Ah, now you remember, don’t you?”
She shook her head in disbelief and went to run but couldn’t. He had her firmly in his grip. She begged for his forgiveness, claiming it was not her fault, but his mother’s.
Awakened by the commotion, Olga stormed into the room and demanded to know what was going on. Jamiesonn threw his beloved wife against the wall in one quick movement and faced his mother. Olga grabbed the first thing she could find and charged him.
Jamiesonn stared at her and she stopped suddenly, bound by an invisible force. With a word from him, she was thrown to the far side of the shack. He grabbed Danska by the hair and ordered her to tell his mother who he was. She cried out in pain, but couldn’t bring herself to speak his name.
“Who are you?” Olga shouted in her old crackly voice.
“I am the one you two slews found pleasure in torturing,” Jamiesonn replied, his voice full of bitterness and anger.
His mother gasped in shock, and her eyes widened in fear. He knew she had suspected that he would return someday, but she had no idea what to say. Her mouth moved, but no sound emerged. She feared him. Her eyes told him that. She began to cry and plead with him not to harm them. She promised change, but Jamiesonn knew better.
“I have not come for an apology. You two shall pay for what you did to me!”
He picked up Danska and threw her face first into the hot coals of the fire. She screamed out in horrific pain and fell to the floor weeping. Jamiesonn laughed when he saw his wife’s once beautiful face now bloody, blistered, and scorched.
Olga looked at her and then at Jamiesonn, her expression angry but he didn’t care. He listened as Danska wailed continuously in pain as the blisters spread all over her face.
“It’s your turn now, Mother.”
Instinctively, she put her hands up to cover her face. Obviously, she thought she was to suffer the same fate. This was not the case. Jamiesonn had something special planned for her. He grabbed her by the throat, snarled, and threw her out the front of the shack. She landed heavily on the muddy ground. He wanted to finish this, but something suddenly came over him. He turned around and looked at his deformed, screaming wife, and felt pity for her. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the memory of how beautiful she had once been. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t stand to hear any more of her pathetic wailing. For whatever reason, Jamiesonn clicked his fingers, and all her sores immediately disappeared.
She crawled to a corner and sat there sobbing as she watched him walk outside.
“Well, Mother,” he snarled, grabbing her up and placing her on her feet.
“Jasha, please don’t.”
He just shook his head, and hit her hard in the face. She fell to the ground again and cried out for mercy.
“I’m not in a giving mood today,” Jamiesonn stated. He kicked her hard in the chest, leaving her gasping for air. “You will now get what you deserve.”
The ground began to tremble. From the depths of the earth arose a wooden cross. Jamiesonn was intent on crucifying his mother. He threw her against the cross. Thick iron nails suddenly appeared from within it and pushed through the flesh of her feet and hands. Then a crown of thorns appeared and embedded themselves on her head. Blood gushed from her brow as the crown’s thorns stabbed deep into her skull. He found real pleasure in this sight of ungodliness. Just before she died, she begged God to forgive her son for what he had done. Jamiesonn took little note of this. In his mind, she was going straight to hell.
His revenge was complete, he felt.