There are times when the hatred, the vitriol and the malice can no longer be contained. They must be unleashed. Most often, this occurs as a consequence of the ignition of fury which arises as a response to the wounding which happens because we have been criticised. The ignited fury may, with those of us with greater control thresholds, be kept under control, especially if we are mindful of the impact it may have upon the facade. Sometimes, we cannot exert that control and heated or cold fury erupts from us, seeking to provoke a reaction from you and others which will draw fuel and in turn address the wound so the fury in time abates.

Then there are the times when there is a need to spread hurt, cause pain, to shock and to lash out.

It is not an uncontrolled and haphazard spewing forth of hatred, a dervish that lashes out at all around him or her, drawing looks of horror, hurt and annoyance. Such a frenzied response is one associated with the loss of control which occurs through the ignition of fury. This is a calculated exercise in drawing negative fuel for the purposes of letting this awful and treacherous world and its traitorous minions know that there is a blazing hatred at our core, a permanent state of malicious and venomous antipathy for everybody around us. We have no interest in donning a mask of charm or magnetism. There is no desire to present a facade on such occasions. Our seething, savage malcontent must emerge and be branded on all those who are unfortunate enough to cross our path.

It may start at any point in the day. It may be that on wakening we feel it there, the corrosive taint of malice which has to be allowed to surface. We may, in less experienced times, have thought that the provision of positive fuel would cause this sensation to lessen and to vanish, but it does not. For some reason, some deep and dark reason, only negative fuel will suffice. I have experienced this on several occasions. I now recognise it. It is the desire to destroy, to hurt, to maim and I know that until such time as I have drunk deep of the negative fuel that flows from such actions, I will not be able to stop and cause this sensation to vanish. I can feel it inside of me – it is not fury, but rather a visceral and powerful hatred for everything and everyone. A bilious sensation sat in my core and I must obey it. It is allied to the ever present hunger for fuel, but only negative will do. It is as if some ancient wrong can only ever be reconciled through the application of repeated wrongs, as if that historic crime has to be repeated and replicated in the here and now and in so doing, by giving it such an exposure and airing, release is achieved.

Something wicked from way back when must be allowed to manifest now.

And so the day is one of vicious behaviours. The morning greeting from the neighbour is met with an instruction to him to “get fucked” or to invite him to keep an eye on that “whore of his wife and her afternoon visitors”. His shocked response is seen from peripheral vision, the first drops of negative fuel trickling my way as I march to my vehicle  and enter it. The cocooning effect of the magnificent car does nothing to remove the malice. On the drive to the office, those talking on the radio are routinely lambasted for the idiocy – they cannot hear me but it does not matter – they must still be told. The window is lowered and a pair of young women walking along the road are shouted at, the single insult of “sluts” trailing after me as I drive past. The cyclist is pilloried for being a “latex clad wanker”, the person waiting at the zebra crossing jumps back as I fail to yield to them and give them the finger as I sail by.

Sat in idling traffic I endeavour to catch the eye of the driver behind or in front and goad them with hand gestures.

“Come on, come on, get out,” I hiss to myself, hoping they will emerge from their vehicle and challenge me. Just do it, give me the provocation I am looking for and I can unleash yet more of this malice which is surging through me. Today they perhaps see what glints in my darkened eyes and do no more than retaliate with their own gestures before the traffic moves on and we become separated.

The barista in the cafe asks for my order and my name in that ridiculous manner of theirs. All I want is tea, not some imported affectation of a grand ho cho or some ridiculous coffee which is whipped, flavoured, syrup and sprinkled. I give the name “Farquhar” and say it in a tone which tells him that if he dares, if he fucking dares to ask me how to spell that name I will seize several of these over-priced muffins in the display and force them into his spluttering mouth one by one. He does not ask and his cake choking is avoided.

Of course when the beverage arrives, I see “Farkwar” daubed in the hand-writing of a five year old on the side. I lift the cup and speak,

“Excuse me,” I say coolly. The barista turns and looks at me. Already hesitation is gripping him.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Are you some kind of epsilon semi-moron.” I say. Although it should be a question, it sounds more like a statement as I point at the scrawl on the cup. He says nothing, unsure of what to say and what I will do.

“Is that wrong? I’m sorry,” he offers.

I hold his gaze, my dark glare boring into him as I contemplate setting alight his extensive beard. He looks away at the floor within a couple of seconds. I know everybody else in this store is looking at me. Good.

I shake my head.

“You should have tried harder at school you fucking quarter wit,” I announce and turn, shoving past those behind me. There are no protests.

And so it goes. The receptionist is told she looks slovenly when I enter the office. The office junior is snarled at to get out of the way. I find fault with everything that those working for me do. I draw tears from one annihilated associate as I subject him to a five minute tirade as to the inadequacies of his report, banishing him from my room as if exiling him from my kingdom. He is the third person who has entered my office and been subjected to my malice and it is not even mid-morning.

My secretary pokes her head around the door.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

I pause and look up from my computer and apply the charm of the smile.

“Absolutely great. Could not be better. First class. Tip top. Superb.” I confirm as I reel off a range of synonyms for all being well. Most will be branded with my malice today but not her. She is a loyal Lieutenant and this time she is exempt, besides, what better way to really mess with the heads of those beneath me is to have my secretary say,

“He was fine with me,” if they come crawling back trying to ascertain what is wrong.

E-mails receive curt replies. Those who telephone are subjected to a savage dissection of their proposal which leaves them speechless. Instructions are barked, injunctions issued and idiots torn apart. The malice remains, powering the nasty and unpleasant behaviours but never surging out of control. It is as if this malice recognises that it does some good to put some stick about, to let people know that they have to earn my grace and favour, that they ought to be on their toes, alert and mindful that their elevated position can be removed in an instant. Few ever challenge, most retreat horrified, alarmed and hurt. Those that do fight back but they are then subjected to fiercer malice as they are intimidated until they break away, muttering and still hurling insults. It matters not, it is all negative fuel.

In another place this malice would have manifested through the application of physical violence. The punches and kicks traded with those stroppy waxwork faces as part of the understanding that this is what happens in such an arena. In another place again, this malice would surface through the cruelty and humiliation of the one supposedly closest to me in the most intimate of settings. In yet another place, this malice would appear as the event wrecking ball, leaving nothing standing.

But today it happens in this place and this means that verbal abuse, insults, savage tongue, baleful glare and acidic responses are the appropriate ways in which the malice makes itself felt and draws of the negative fuel.

Some who are the recipients are strangers and our paths will not cross again. Others may regard me warily until the usual charm appears and they are put at ease. Most know better than to make it appear on another day through the ignition of fury. Occasionally there are those who will take it further. A demand for an apology, a raised grievance through formal channels and even a complaint to the authorities. In those rare instances the matter is dealt with through the restoration of persuasion and magnetism. A reward is offered to avoid the issue, charm negates the challenge or even a supposedly heart-felt apology is provided. They are, after all, just words and of course the relief, pleasure and gratitude espoused by the other person is all positive fuel, welcomed on the alternative occasion. There is not one who has been on the receiving end of the malice who cannot be brought back into line once again. All people have a price.

When this malice appears in this form, the entrenched and ancient right exercising its need to be aired, after a day of caustic comments, vicious volleys and sarcastic smiles, with the negative fuel swallowed up, I return and there is a beneficiary of all this vitriol. Having allowed the malice to be known, to let it stretch its legs and flex its muscles, it retreats, for now and as I arrive at your house or return to ours, you receive the positive side of this contrast for once. Even if you, as primary source, are being devalued, you will be given a sudden respite and the resurrection of the golden period. Your surprise and delight at its return brings forth the positive fuel in significant quantities and it washes over me, replacing the now receded malice. Your positive fuel is now required and thus the devaluation is halted as you are seen as a sanctuary of delight compared to those who have annoyed, irritated and crossed me during the day. It may not last long, but for today at least, the malice was given vent and now you benefit from its sustained application.

Even when I am malicious, I am good.


49 thoughts on “Malice”

    1. IdaNoe

      Nice, my personal favorite is a katana, I was bored one day and used my tanto to cut veggies. They think it is just a knife I use in the kitchen, nope it is a weapon I keep in the kitchen disguise as a knife used for veggies.

      1. Twilight- Huge smile 😁
        I have knives hidden all over the house! I have a throwing knife attached to the interior door handle of my van and an 8 inch dagger attached to my seat. I always have at least 2 on me except when I sleep ( I sleep with a cop and a 45 😊) I used to get great joy sitting in my room, as a teen, playing with a Balisong. The thought of that click click click unnerving my parents did my heart good. The wakizashi, I always wanted a custom pair to slide down in my boots. Never got them. Hey are you into bows or whips? Got the hots for a bow from seeing Burt Reynolds in Deliverance when I was 6. Great movie choice for a 6 yr old! And if you get a chance, check out the Filipino fighting whip. I want one! Thrilled to know another blade girl!

      2. IdaNoe

        My love is knives and swords, then guns. I have a fascination with dragons and had a statue of two dragons intertwined, it was actually two daggers the dragon heads were the hilts.

        I had my ways of getting under my grandmothers skin and amuse my grandfather in the process. I never tried to “unnerve” or anything when it came to him. He was a UGN, he expected much from me, pushing things with him was not going to go over well, I learned that lesson from another’s misfortune.

        I have seen bits and pieces of the movie Deliverence. I do believe I was in a town just like it on a couple of occasions when I have made trips to West Virginia.

        My ex introduced me to the bow, which I am interested in. Whips….ya that interest happen long before my husband and he decided it wasn’t in his interest for me to practice.

  1. The loyal lieutenants are almost as bad as the narcissist themselves. The narcissist has one and she called my husband after he ended the affair and went no contact. “How can you do this to her, she can’t stop crying, she can’t work, blah blah blah”. Seriously she did not give a thought to his wife and child, just her narcissist overlord. She has no idea how the narcissist talked about her to my husband, so contemptuous of her life, her relationship…the narcissist talked disparagingly to my husband about ALL of her supposed good friends. Sharing their deepest confidences, ridiculing them as stupid, weak…with friends like that! In reality she has no friends, she’s fallen out with most of them due to her behavior after the affair ended. It’s astonishing to me that people don’t see how they’re being manipulated and abused.

  2. I believe my father is a greater greater and I don’t believe he would ever cause a scene like you describe. He would however find a way to get the barista fired.

  3. ‘There is not one who has been on the receiving end of the malice who cannot be brought back into line once again. All people have a price.’

    That’s what I was up against. Even if they had seen such behavior as I was describing, they would excuse him or deny belief.

    Even I would relent with the appearance of what I now know to be false contrition, and false actions taken to show improvement, ie; anger management, signing agreements, etc.
    I also feared this demon would appear at the slightest provocation, so I was walking on eggshells much of the time.

  4. I have read this more then once. Every time I feel deep within a stirring wanting to come to the fore, feeling hands wrap around the hilt of blades as they are being drawn, stepping forward…..this is not malice, yet light triggered by the darkness rising.

    Your words hold power HG, this specific article the darkness that is ancient as time, I am pulled to a place that is just as ancient a place where only hate and love exist, within this arena hate will bring death, love will bring life, an eternal dance.
    Both will fight for that which they believe in.

    Thank you.

    1. I also loved the Farquhar, but for the wrong reason, I discovered. I thought it was a Pakistani name, and I think HG doesn’t look “Oriental” at all, so that made it very funny to me. (Not that people can’t give their kids exotic names)
      But I checked, and it’s a Scottish name. Still funny though.

      1. So the name exists?! I learned something new today.
        The first time I read that part, I thought of fartwar.

  5. HG,
    is a slight criticism such as pointing out that the narc has forgotten a date, or asking him not to write text messages when eating out, enough for the malice to surface and to use stored information about past injuries against the victim?

    Also, when the victim then falls silent and completely distanced / dissociated, how would the narc behave then?

    1. Okay … does anyone else have an opinion?
      I am just so confused that I have forgotten everything I’ve learned here.

      1. Ava101
        Does anyone have an opinion about what? What they consider criticism? In my experience virtually any statement can be considered criticism by a midranger. Our thought behind it makes no difference.

        Here where I live a common greeting when you meet someone or someone calls you is, “Hey! What are you up to?” When I would say this to my Moron in Munich, he would blow up! “Why you ask me what I’m doing?!? I don’t have to tell you anything! You do not control me!”

        I explained that this is just our standard greeting here and he was very distrustful of this answer. After he understood this he would either still blow up or give me a silent treatment. I refused to stop ever saying it, though, because it’s part of my culture and therefore part of who I am.

        Totally innocent questions would ignite his fury sometimes, but not others. Some Friday’s I could ask, “Do you have anything planned this weekend?” And he would blow up in fury. Other times he’d cheerily answer with some special place he planned to go. Trying to make sense of this, I thought maybe if what he had planned was something he wanted to hide from me, then he would respond with fury. But if it was something he thought I might be envious of, then he would tell me. But maybe there was no logical reason at all.

      2. You are on the right track. If it is something he wants to hide or it is nothing in particular, then he will take offense on you asking ANY questions.

        If it is something that he wants you to feel envy of or if he knows that can upset you because you are not there, he will heartedly share all of details about it, sometimes making it bigger than what it is, to get fuel from you (you getting upset).

        My ex narc perceived any innocent question as if I was trying to control him. So childish and tedious. I decided I was going to piss him off every time I got some idiotic answer. It worked. I would text insults too. I know my defiance aroused him sexually.

        I could ask: how are you doing?

        He would answer: rhetorical question.

        I would answer back: rhetorical answer. Is your head stuck up your ass today? Do you need to find yourself a whipping boy to improve the filthy mood? Rhetorical questions again. Don’t answer because I AM telling you not to.

        Oh boy… at that point the volcano erupted!

        That’s when he would blow the top.
        He would get hysterical and call me.

        Are you ducking out of your mind? What has got in you today? Do you wanna die? Do you know who you are talking to?

        I would answer: cut off the bullshit. fucking rhetorical questions. I know I am talking to you. Are you demented? I am horny and you are not doing a thing about it. Bye.

        His shocked answer: I am more than a cock. Why are you talking to me like that, Kathy? I am confused. I thought you loved me.

        My reply: prove it.

        And the war would go on…until we met. But he knew at that point it was about getting to challenge him.

        Or if I was in a ok mood myself then I would not insult him.

        He would give me short answers and then silent treatment. If I didn’t ask, them I didn’t care, again silent treatment.

        So, my mental math was: if I ask I get treated poorly, get the silent treatment, and he may be lying on the answer, so why even bother asking? The end result was the same: not knowing where he was plus silent treatment, plus lying so I stopped asking.

        If you want to piss him off and have some fun, keep asking that question. His furious reaction (on the phone) must be funny!!! Because darling, not matter what you do, you will get screw by the end. Why not have some fun while you can? Then withdraw any fuel and let him dump you… the best and safest way to get rid of them.

      3. Hello ava101,

        I believe that ( if I understand correctly) malice is something different than fury.
        Malice is of a different nature and magnitude.
        Fury either cold or ignited is the response to a narcissistic wounding( triggered by criticism etc.).
        Malice is a deep-rooted ,permanent feeling of hatred that is latent in the core . As I believe, it emerges randomly. The only way of releasing this feeling is by a calculated extraction of negative fuel . I would pair this with the sadistic streak that some narcissists have.
        Not all narcissists are malignant/sadistic ( that is to say , this deep-rooted malice is not present in all).

        I hope this helps.

      4. Thank you Windstorm!

        I have to think about this all …. I believe I might have had some dates with a narcissist after all …. Still not immune … I had asked him the “Flush out” questions and didn’t notice anything alarming, but even narcs have different personalities …
        But he is confusing, and had so strong reactions when I still don’t even know what I said that could have triggered, them ….
        I will think about your answer. 🙂

      5. I does, SuperXena, thank you, because you’ve reminded me of the difference of the ex-narc’s behaviour and this kind of fury, you are right, it’s not malice in this case.

      6. Hello Kathy,

        you have cheered me up. 🙂
        Ah, I wish I had some energy and time, so I could consult with HG how to piss him off best. 🙂

        I am at present not sure if he is giving me the silent treatment or disengaged, … but he did answer when I asked for his e-mail address and hasn’t blocked me so I can see on Facebook all the comments by women who have said on his return to his home town “oh, we must meet sooner than later”, etc. ….

        Meanwhile, I met with a friend he had introduced to me, an incredibly sweet boy of ca. 20 years, who has not only cheered me up, also, but told me, that my current narc lover had talked to him about us, when he didn’t speak to me at all. He had told him the sex had been great, we had been friends, but then I had cried (I wonder why! he left out that detail! of course), and therefore he didn’t want a long distance affair/friendship/whatever.

        Now he’s been ignoring me since he reacted in that insulted fashion, without ever speaking to me about the matter at all. The last I saw of him was him vacuuming the floor … (is that a present silent treatment?? Or overwhelm? He said it was too much for him …).

        Now I am completely off topic. I still don’t know what caused his reaction / wounding, he hasn’t talked to me since, 6 days, returned to his home town/country, and posted lots of good-bye stuff on facebook, while not saying one word of good-bye to me.

        A normal person would have at least said “good-bye”, even if we had had an “understandable” fight or fall-out, right??

        So, yes, at the moment I’d like to send him the ideal text message, but I’m remaining silent as HG said this was the best way, and also because I’m afraid that my message wouldn’t be fuel free at all …haha. But I would really like to wound him as much as he has hurt me. I had only asked him a normal question, yes, and a nice one actually, and what I got back was attacking me, with the exact same words I (stupidly!!!!) had told him my ex had been using …

        BTW, I really liked how your dialogue was going when you said that about being horny and him not doing anything about it. ;D

  6. I’m worried about myself, I was literally laughing out loud on this one!! Like slap stick, HG’s wonderful sense of humor! I actually had this happen to me once! Now I understand the bizarre behavior. A business man lost his mind at a stop light, got out of his car ranting and raving, got back in when it turned green and drove on. There seem to be a lot of us from Virginia on this site, I think we’re crawling with narcissists here right outside of DC. Hope you don’t mind, but laughs always feel good!

    1. And Houston-TX! The only thing here… and most people know that about this place, including my narc, is that you can get a bullet. You act crazy like that and I promise you someone will shoot you…. it is not if. It is when…. like my ex husband did. Two narcs in a fight. Ouch. Yet, if you drive here and see a psycho maniac driving an Audi like it is the most wonderful car on the world (it is not), cussing, talking by himself in the car, yelling insults, that is my narc!!!!!!!
      I also laughed hard at this one. I don’t know what it is but to watch someone lashing out like that totally fascinates me!!!! Of course if I am not in the receiving end because then “Houston, we have a problem”. Then my fury is set off and there is no telling what I am gonna do. I don’t handle fury directed at me… very well. My narc knew that, so I was always just the audience. He used of other means to hurt me but not name calling, spitting, hitting me because I would nail his twisted balls in the walls and watch him dying slowly and painfully. He knew I was a bit crazy. But to others… the man was a demon, let me tell you, I learned some pretty cool insults: “you fucking dirty stupid useless fat cunt! How do you even have a job? Your fat face is not only disgusting. It is obscene!”

      And the lady looked at him bored to death, shrugged her shoulders and said: “yes darling but a red neck like you would never touch my cunt. Have a good day.” And gave him the middle finger.
      Security stepped in, he had to leave…. yelling: fucking whore! I will be back!

      She was like… “yeah sure you will, darling. They all did.” And showed him the gun.

      Then on the way home he talked for 20 hours as to why he would never come back to the rat hole. Aka: fear. He knew she would shoot his balls, literally. And the cameras and the security, police… etc… etc…

      It is shocking the first time. Then after the first time is like having a 5 year old throwing a tantrum. At least that’s how my narc was. Boring, predictable, noisy and wasteful. He broke some pretty cool art work he had. Smashed.

      1. And mine, IdaNoe! He’s the best! He is funny, deliciously evil, capable of falling in love, and very protective over his adopted kids. What else can an empath wish for?

        Twilight: you should watch all parts, it’s great!

      1. Twilight
        Never watched Despicable Me? I absolutely looove the minions!! You should rent the Minions Movie and watch it with your granddaughter.

      2. Windstorm

        No I have not. I have seen clips with the minions, which I find hilarious just never watched the movie.
        I may see if it catches her attention, if it doesn’t have horses or ponies she just isn’t interested.
        I just got back Thursday from taking her to see wild ponies on Assateague this past week.
        After she goes home today i may sit back and watch it.

  7. “It may start at any point in the day. It may be that on wakening we feel it there, the corrosive taint of malice which has to be allowed to surface. We may, in less experienced times, have thought that the provision of positive fuel would cause this sensation to lessen and to vanish, but it does not. For some reason, some deep and dark reason, only negative fuel will suffice. I have experienced this on several occasions. I now recognise it. It is the desire to destroy, to hurt, to maim and I know that until such time as I have drunk deep of the negative fuel that flows from such actions, I will not be able to stop and cause this sensation to vanish. I can feel it inside of me – it is not fury, but rather a visceral and powerful hatred for everything and everyone. A bilious sensation sat in my core and I must obey it. It is allied to the ever present hunger for fuel, but only negative will do. It is as if some ancient wrong can only ever be reconciled through the application of repeated wrongs, as if that historic crime has to be repeated and replicated in the here and now and in so doing, by giving it such an exposure and airing, release is achieved.

    Something wicked from way back when must be allowed to manifest now.”

    This does my heart good to see this. There could not be more truth in the fact that these feelings (hey these are feelings!) stem from an ancient wrong. Indeed they do. I feel like we are getting somewhere! Only of course I am not aligned with the part where these ancient imprints/events need to be repeated and replicated in the here and now. Big yawn, that is all we have ever done/witnessed so far. I sob for all the damage, loss and destruction along the way. (Did we really need to burn down entire historic libraries to fan this retarded flame?) There is no release achieved, only the same hammer hitting the same nail over and over and over, building nothing, destroying over and over. If it were not so dangerous it would be purely boring. The wicked thing that manifested back then is manifesting over and over ad nauseam and horrifyingly throughout this ol world. The victims of this manifestation are always the same side of the gap. The gap over and over and over and over again. Positive and negative need redefining. A lot of times what is labelled negative is not, and what is labelled positive is far from it.

    I find myself waking up in this same mood, experiencing myself in this world at this time (or any time so far) is no fun, and how to process?–forget about it– Who knows right? We do not. Pills are administered, sickness ensues, try therapy, try anything to relieve this. Blah blah “be positive” blah blah such horse shit. I go through the corrosive malicious experiences within you describe so well. I make my sister laugh when I get in that place and spew my malice externally. I call people out, tell them they are stupid in ways satisfying my clever rage (and everything it covers up, what is under it?) pumping through my veins.

    Too bad that ancient wrong cannot be reconciled in this way. However your way is actually more loving than the fakery we are encouraged to present. Genuine expression of true emotion/subjective experience is far superior than a fabricated presentation which we are applauded for in this bananas society. (gag, vomit I hate the insincerity) There is no reconciliation on the horizon by the application of repeated wrongs but reconciliation (please sooner than later) will play out a tad different than this. We tried this way only, it does not work eh?

    Maybe changing the word “wicked” with the word “genuine” is a possible start? Wicked can be such a judgmental word. Women were burned at the stake and hung for being “wicked” Hahahaha for example, a midwife and an herbalist are wicked?

  8. Pingback: Malice ⋆ NarcTopia
    1. In all seriousness though, I do have a day here and there, few and far between, where as soon as I wake up, EVERYTHING is wrong. I’m uncomfortable in my own skin. Maybe that’s what waking up on the wrong side of the bed is. Nothing fits well, nothing looks good, I can’t seem to throw something hard enough to suit me, so I pick it up and throw it again and again until I’m satisfied. It’s usually something that I’ve decided needs to go in the trash really hard! I’d just as soon slap somebody as look at them (of course I would never). I call it, “feeling like I want to jump through the wall”. Very tense and ill-natured all day. I’m not sure what causes it to ease, but it only makes me feel worse, (not better) if I’m bitchy and rude to those around me.

    1. How often does this happen? cause I saw nearly daily with Mr. Lesser. It was directed at me usually but others. He would be on the phone with me and would literally be cursing out other drivers while speaking with me on the phone

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