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The other cabinet

Down in my den, next to one of my long gun lockers, I keep a cabinet of my hate. In it I have small little mementos of the wounds and insults, the petty and the monstrous, both past and to come, each one distilled down to the very purest essence of outrage. Some have dates attached, addresses, coordinates. There, too, I keep a well-tended collection of triumphs over the cretins who opposed me and tried to keep me down, here a small sack of ash, there a crystal vial, and down below a tarnished and twisted locket.

I have kept my cabinet of hate a long, long, long time. Sometimes it starts to overflow and I have to let some of the wrath out, and I generally do. And when I do, I set to filling in the gaps in the collection like teeth missing from a ruined face until all is in order once again. I excel in tending my cabinet of hate.

Perhaps you have not yet started keeping your own special place to keep your hate, or your ambition, your madness, or your desire. Perhaps it is because you do not possess the necessary talismans of your seeking either through oversight or injustice. Some collectors pin a note in place of the missing item into their collection against the day when it might be obtained, others simply leave it out. In any case, there is really only one indispensable element to a villain's shrine to the past: a mirror.

Grinning Skull
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