My Life As A Cult Leader — Top

By year three, we were two hundred strong. Marcus built an off-grid server. A former chef named Elena turned our vegetable scraps into gourmet meals. I woke up each morning to a line of people waiting just to glimpse me sipping my nettle tea. They saw profound detachment. I was just hungover.

That was the first stone dropped into a still pond. My Life as a Cult Leader

He stared at me for a long time. Then he nodded slowly and walked away. He didn’t leave. He worked harder. Because I had given him a new, even more addictive drug: the secret knowledge that the leader was a fraud, and the mission was to protect him anyway. By year three, we were two hundred strong

“There is no Resonance Center,” Marcus said. “There’s just a dusty plot of land you looked at on Zillow.” I woke up each morning to a line