-The Granny-
Volume 8 Starter Short Jonny was a young lad. Winter break was almost over, just a couple more days and he had to go back to the dreadful school he did not miss even the slightest bit. He had to go there; it was his duty as a child of a family strict in academics. His mind briefly thought about the school as he walked by the old building. It reminded him of that because it kind of looked like the school architectural design, which was the reason he thought about it in the first place. However, enough about that. He was on a break! He did not want to think about school nor his parents, both of which wanting him to study. He would only get the stupid amount of two hours of free time per day and would study the rest of the hours as if his life depended on it. But not right now! He was on a break, outside in the world, walking during the snowy winter season. Jonny was a curious lad who did not really pass stuff without actually thinking about, why things are happening, or why are things there. He passed a cone shaped stone structure on the coast of the bridge he was walking on and he though, "Why is that there?" - What could have made people construct that? Make it stand there? It was almost destroyed from the many a winters which made it even more pointless. Yet it was there, making the scenery feel odd. There were benches, lamps, posts, fences beside him. Yet, why was that there? It didn't serve a purpose. It would have been used to sell papers, a long time ago… The time in which people actually did read em. But now, it was just a barely up structure, with no meaning...Or was it? As he got closer, he saw two feet sitting behind the structure. From the three layers of socks and almost torn shoes, he could deduce the person sitting there was homeless. -Hello, are you hurt? Do you need help? - He asked and awaited. The person, startled and a bit shocked turned to face the little lad with his blonde hair and blue cores. The old lady look tired. She had been through many long and painful years. Her eyes only said so. Those... Old and grey eyes. -I'm good my boy, thank you! - She replied and attempted to stand. Jonny helped her, and removed the small layer of snow away from her dress... Dark and sewn up with patches. -I was going to go and buy some taters so I can make myself some soup, but…I got tired on the way back. Might have even napped for a while - She continued as a “thank you” for the help. -But that is scary! You cannot just fall asleep in the snow, in a day like this! - returned the boy feeling in a way responsible. She brushed his comment by saying it wasn't a big deal. It was because of her age. Either way, he insisted of helping her back home. She agreed seeing, as he was genuinely worried, so not to worry him, the old woman led the way. It was a five-minute walk to an abandoned, or what it looked like building, with no windows or anything. She unlocked the door, which was barely hanging on its hinges in the first place, and welcomed him inside. Jonny could only imagine the nothingness inside the house. And yet, he was wrong. The home was probably the saddest, and yet humbling thing he ever saw. A bed, a furnace a sink and a table. That was it. Nothing else. There was a pot left on the top of the furnace in a way to get some brewing water for the soup. Only the last few ingredients were missing. -I can help you with that! - suggested the lad, and looked at the shivering hands of the lady. She nodded, and sat by the table. -There is some flour and onions downstairs, could you be a dear and go and fetch them? – She asked. Jonny nodded intrigued. How was there a downstairs though? The already house being so tiny and all. The woman pointed at the carpet hanged on the wall, and the boy removed one side to reveal a staircase leading down. It seemed odd, yet he was going to help her either way. Not minding the dark path, he descended down and looked for a light. A hideous smell erupted in his nostrils as he went further. Rotten smell. Of decay, and death. Reminded him of carrion. His fingers quickly pacing on the surface of the rugged walls finally found the switch, so he turned on the light. The light glared and illuminated the hidden room. Revealing...the old lady...Her corpse. Broken, in a strange and odd angle. Her neck had been twisted, and her legs, bent backwards. Blood covered the last ingredients she needed but he was not about to touch them. Jonny was petrified and could not move. His eyes could only stare at the ones of the corpse, the lifeless ones. He tried moving, but his body reacted as slow as a snail, as if his muscles were dead. He could not just get the picture out of his head. But Jonny had to, needed to get away from there as soon as possible or he would go mad. So he attempted again. Tried. Cried. Didn't work. Tried again. And this time they leapt. He was like a bird. He took the needed stairs and bolted. The "living room" was empty, there was no one there. His hand was even covered with blood but he did not remember touching her, except for the time he was holding her hand while escorting her back home. -What the he- - He thought and ran again. Away from the house. Away from that awful scene. He ran and ran, until he got back to the point of which he started. The cone structure. However, there was no one there anymore; it was only a blank stone object with nothing but a sign, a memorial hanged in the middle of it. It noted: "In loving memory of the old lady". Jonny was now crying as any other man or child would. Nothing was always what it seemed. Even for the people of age, times were harsh. And Jonny was going to understand that today. He looked back and saw the outlined blue imagine of a woman. She was waving for goodbye. He could barely see her, but her lips formed something, "Thank you for the help!" Still shaking and not knowing how to feel he nodded as if on command and smiled. Today had been a strange day. Yet it made him understand one thing. Always offer help, no matter how you feel. You never know how bad the other person has it. And just as that thought went and rushed by him…the scenery changed…slightly, but it did. He blinked and turned around, only to be faced, by the waves underneath the bridge, crashing and forming a delightful song of long lost voices. Jonny turned around and began walking again. -The Cat- Despite the scenery changing, the whole ordeal felt roughly the same. The Oxfordian style bridge, the benches made of old wood, the lamps barely standing at the edge of the sidewalk, and the very ocean underneath the whole structure. It felt as if he was dreaming a lucid dream. Jonny could only feel the sensation of this sudden change of places. Change having a key importance to this situation. It was not substantial but the change could be felt. Before, as he found the lady and helped her, there was not a monument created in her name. The stone structure that looked like a big cone, created with the sole purpose of gluing posters and different messages was now decorated with a sign for the granny. That little object was now there, which meant there was something more to it. Jonny was not very keen in those things, he was just a little lad who was still on his little walk before going back home to continue his study. He still had some time to spend before returning. Not to take away from the chilly season that had befallen the city a week ago. Being a child of rich parental figures, we was not allowed to go outside this often, being his young age and taking the awful weather for example. That however, did not slightly bother the young man who did not care if he was going to dirty his shoes or maybe wet his clothes from the snow gathered on the sidewalks in attempts to clear the way for the cars to cross the bridge freely. Jonny only wanted to experience what it felt like to be a normal person and feel the winter. Be there while it is snowing, which was a shame, since it was not at the moment. Regardless, he just wanted to have some time alone. But at the back of his head, there was this still lingering feeling of something terrible happening. Ever since he saw that broken lady, and her ghost, he knew there was something going on. He could not peace it together though. He took a breath, taking in the cold air and feeling his whole body tremble. He then leaned on the parapet of the bridge's side looking down to the waters still not frozen, monotonously waving around. Staring at it, made his mind ease up a little. Before he knew it though, something approached him, walking gently with its furry paws. It was on the parapet, just as Jonny. He did not see it before, but that was okay. Jonny smiled at the feline and extended his hand in attempt to pet the lusciously looking black fur of the cat. Its eyes did not expand with fear; rather, they remained as if fixated on the boy. Producing a vibrating murmur, it let the boy scratch its ear. The cat meow-ed and Jonny smiled. He always wanted to have a pet or maybe adopt one. His parents...well you get the picture. They did not want anything resembling a normal household with a happy child and or even pets. -How are you doing buddy? - asked the lad and looked directly in the green eyes of the black cat. It did not reply for it could not talk, it only got closer to him, close enough to feel his warm breath of its whiskers. Jonny then saw a collar with a pendant with a name engraved on it. It read: Mercury. Turning it to its back, it then revealed the owner, or more precisely, their initials. "This precious girl belongs to the household of "J. N. T". “ -Are you lost little girl? - asked Jonny, while the feline purred with excitement. Maybe it was the first time seeing a human in a long while. If that was the case, it was her lucky day. The young lad was here to save her. Although, he did not know where she lived. It was coming from the other direction, towards the other part of the city, the "not so brilliant part of town" as his father would say. Jonny proceeded to lift the cat up, with her not showing signs of aggression. It seemed Mercury quite enjoyed his company, even if he was a stranger. -Let’s get you home now, Mercury! - said the boy and started walking in the opposite direction of his house. If he was the one responsible for the cat, so be it. He was going to help it. He passed the big cone with the monument, the benches and the trash bins littered around the area. Mercury was having an adventure, floating in the air to her destination. Jonny caressed her head gently, and then smiled genuinely, still walking through the layers of snow. Just as he was going to move past the middle of the bridge, Mercury suddenly jumped from his hands and ran into a pile of snow next to the inner side of the bridge. -Hey now, do not go going in the snow...you will freeze! - He yelled after it, feeling concerned about her. When Mercury did not emerge, Jonny legitimately got worried. Hurrying after it, he kneed and quickly spread the snow, only to find...the corpse of...the black cat. It was mangled and twisted in a bizarre and hard to look at position. Its intestines were spread around it, with its eyes, exploded and lifelessly hanging out of their orbits were in a way looking at the boy, looking at him while being dead. He quickly moved away, shocked and very disturbed about the scene, but his eyes could not look away. He was staring at the corpse; until the cat, or its ghost, just like last time with the granny, appeared out of it, as if it is, its last breathe. The contorted thing bellow it had melted with the snow around the glowing image of Mercury. Her eyes, green and seemingly happy locked with those of Jonny, the lad who had unintentionally shed a few drops out of his. "Meow!" Her cry was the last thing the last saw and heard before blinking. After that, the scenery was different again. The cat was gone, the gory corpse too. He was facing the monument, but it was once again different. On it wrote: "In loving memory of the old lady and the cat". -The Girl- Just like last time, the whole scenery was different again. Well maybe not. The Oxfordian Bridge he was standing on remained the same. Just as the benches, the street lamps the small little garbage bins placed nearby each bench. Even the cone shaped structure built to the side, used to hang posters and different messages was there…with one addition. The hanging sign on it was different. This time it was adding the cat…from the last time Jonny could remember being here. When was that, though? Yesterday? It felt as if time remained stagnated in the reality he was re-living, bound to show different fragments of a day or different possibilities of the same event that tragically killed an elder lady, and a black cat, named Mercury. Jonny exhaled some of the chilly winter air and then leaned on the parapet wall of the bridge. The waves bellow it, the oceanic rhythmic waves clashed by the rocks beyond the horizon, and then splashed by the pier across the whole streak of the beach. As a young lad, he would always ask his father to take him to the beach there…or maybe even go on a ride on the boat, they had one. He would not like that idea however…fearing the waters too dirty for their skin, the only way he could experience swimming was in a restricted swimming pool. “Restricted” meaning closed off to the regular humans inhabiting this area or city. How else could they enjoy the privacy of a pool? The peasants with their regular daily six to five jobs were a menace in the public pools, so letting them in the private quarters would be something considered as a crime. Jonny grunted and ran his finger on the surface of the parapet coping he was leaning on. His dad sure sounded like a jerk. He rose to fame with his family line of business, selling Tabaco and other nicotine products. That did not give him the opportunity nor right to mistreat the other people living in the community. Yeah, they did not have the wealth of name power as he did, but they were also people, living on this giant rock, who had rights. But did he listen? Jonny would always ask him to be more polite and keep his understandings to himself, but at the end of the day, he was still too young to question his parents, nor did they listen to his ramble and defend the poor folk. Another breath exited his lungs as he took a fresh new breather. Jonny turned around and decided it was time to go home. Just as he did though, another figure, this time of a younger woman, more like a girl appeared as if a ghost had conjured itself in front of him. She was looking at him directly, with her piercing blue eyes, and those black locks of shining hair. -Jonny! – She excitedly exclaimed. Her large winter coat covering her whole body flapped in the wind as she ran towards him and quickly grabbed his hand. Jonny did not know this girl; in fact, it was the first time he ever saw her. Regardless…he instantly fell a connection with her. -Could you walk me home again? – She asked, taking his hand and holding it, as if it was the most normal thing ever. Feeling his sides blush, he nodded, not knowing what to say. The mysterious girl smiled, with all of her white teeth showing, then started walking in the opposite direction from which he was heading. He managed to see a uniform of the same private school he was visiting, but then Jonny noticed her small suitcase; in which they kept their textbooks and all sorts of things. On the nametag, it was noted: Miley S. -Where do you live Miley? – asked the boy, looking at her strands that moved and glowed with each step they took. She returned the look, with her eyes looking at him with a small dancing flame. -Oh you know, silly. Just by the bridge and a block after it! – She replied and continued walking. He only asked because he did not know this girl, nor where she lived, nor did he know if she was actually a friend of his. These couple of days…if those were days or not just little fragments, were completely messing up with his mind. They passed the cone shaped structure, a few benches, a street lamp and some garbage bins. In his mind, those exact linear points of this event were somehow connected. When he passed by these objects, something triggered in Mercury and it went off. This time, in his head…or was it real…he heard the horns of a car, beeping in the distance. He looked around, still holding Miley, who was smiling, still energetically as before, but he did not see any vehicle on the roadside of the bridge. Just then, Miley collapsed in the gathered snow by a bench. She went in headfirst, just like the cat from yesterday…or was it today? -Hey! Be careful! – Yelled back Jonny, and kneeled to help the girl. As he touched her hand, in attempt to help her lift herself up, he noticed it being intensively cold and solid…as if there was no life in it. His whole body shivered, with it not being able to move. It got clear again…he was standing by the corpse of Miley. Just like the last two times. Her spine was shattered in a way no doctor could ever repair it…with her head bleeding and painting the snow bellow crimson. He did not want to see her face…because he was afraid of what he could see. Jonny moved back a little, still hopelessly staring at the corpse. It was happening again. Just like yesterday… He blinked, and once as before, the lad was standing by the cone shaped structure…again fundamentally changed. The sign was altered, and now it read: "In loving memory of the old lady, the cat and the girl. “ -The Homeless- Jonny was again on the bridge. For the fourth time, he stood there trying to figure out what was going on. The gothic bridge that seemed as if build from a different era was still standing, separating the city in different parts. He looked around but even if he had not, he knew there was something different about the whole ordeal, again. The snow was the same, how could it be different? The benches, lampposts, trash bins, even the cone shaped structure beside him were nearly identical. Only the sign was different. It was always the sign. "Could it be that I'm traveling through the same event in different aspects of it happening? Or am I reliving different events that only happen here?" - He asked himself and leaned back on the parapet. He could see a pattern to this point. I mean, how could he not? It was always this location, with only the victim of whatever had happened to em, being there, looking for help before they die. The old granny, Mercury the cat and now Miley. Question is, did they have something in common or was this practically individuals with zero connections to one another? Jonny could not really wrap his mind around this idea. He exhaled exhausted from the efforts to piece everything together and decided to head home for now. Turning back to the cone shaped structure, the boy proceeded to walk ahead, crunching on the snow gathered around the ground. He looked at the lamps and saw how one of them quickly flickered for a second. Focused on the lamp, his memory gittered and he remembered the time when his mom and him would take afternoon strolls around the neighborhood park and stay until the lamps would light up and illuminate the way for all flying inspects. He would observe how the moths and all little flies gather around the light and make their best efforts to get inside. Those were good times, when school was only a distant future. A time where he did not need to worry this much. He smiled and looked back on the road. Interestingly enough, he saw a barely glowing light coming from behind a trash bin. Intrigued and simply curious, he rushed towards it. The more he gained on the light he knew that the light was either coming from a person, or someone had left some sort of device that produced small flames. As he got closer, he finally saw him. A small kid, probably younger than him, wearing very dirty and torn clothes with different layers on top one another to try to defend himself against the cold. It was sitting on the snowy ground, cross-legged, with the only source of warmth coming from the lighter he was holding as a torch. The flame was elegant and it might have given him enough of the warmth he needed but it was not the ideal thing for the young kid. His head was covered with a patched hood, with his face half covered by a scarf. At least he had some sort of coverage for the problem with the winter season. Jonny then glanced at the object in front of the boy. A small leather hat, as torn as everything else the boy was wearing. It had one coin in it, and it was not event fifty cents. -Hello... - said Jonny to introduce himself and not startle the boy. The kid looked at him. His face was darker than his, which meant he was a gipsy. No big deal. His father had banned him from talking to those people, but he did not care as much. He was not here to stop him anyway. -How are you doing? - continued Jonny, looking at the boy with worry. Even with the layers upon layers, he did not seem warm enough. The stranger looked up, his eyes almost done with life. -How do you reckon I am doing mate? - The gipsy returned the question, with a harsh tember. Jonny felt a bit silly after asking a sitting in the snow person that particular question. -I am sorry if I am bothering you, I did not wish to do so. I only wanted to.... - he stopped and looked at the boy. What did he really want? To help him, or maybe greet the sitting boy? Jonny struggled to think of a plausible explanation but he could not. -You wanted to humiliate me for begging in the middle of this bridge? - suggested the younger boy to which Jonny quickly shook his head. -Of course not! You have your reasons to be out here and doing what you are doing. Only a horrible person could mock you for that! - replied Jonny. His mind instantly went to his father. He grunted by the very thought of it and kneeled to the boy. It was clear that the gipsy did not look him with disdain or any sort of resentment anymore. In fact, his eyes almost felt as if he was wildly surprised by the reaction of the elder boy. Jonny was going to give him all his spare pocket money; he had a lot and was willing to spend them wisely. The gipsy however stopped him. -No...I will not take your money. You are a good person. Only the bad should give me money for they do not really acknowledge the importance of it - said the gipsy, but this time his voice was clear and filled with hope. Jonny was amazed by his words, hence why he nodded to his requests and stood up. As he looked down one more time before heading home though...he once again saw death. A distant car horn echoed around him, with the tires screeching piercingly. The boy nearly ducked, but when he looked at the gipsy, his insides almost wanted to throw whatever they had in them. The boy’s head was completely smashed, as if a big watermelon made of blood. Big chunks of brain matter had splattered all around, with tire-marks all around his clothes and ruggedly stiff body. Jonny screamed from the sight, as it happened so fast, that he tripped back, fell and nearly hit his head. Closing his eyes, he awaited for something to hurt, but when nothing happened, he looked up…and it was clear as day that something had changed again. He did not even have to bother at looking at the usual surroundings. His eyes fixated on the cone structure. This time, the sign noted: "In loving memory of the old lady, the cat, the girl and the lone boy. “ -Emotions - He was there again. Alone on the bridge that led to his home in one direction and to the other part of town in the other one. Jonny however was not keen on going to neither directions because…because he was simply tired of the same ongoing point in time reappearing in front of him as a distant past. He did not even know how he entered this cycle. One moment he was walking home, the next moment everything just started happening. The grandma, the corpse he found lying on the stairs leading to the basement. The cat, frozen and mangled in the snow. The girl his age ran over and left to die. And now…his last vision was of the homeless boy who did not have enough money to even warm himself. Jonny looked at the sign again, read the words and the meaning was still blatant in his mind, screaming and trying to force their way into his memories. However hard he tried though, his mind could not bring back the things he needed to remember so he could piece everything together. All he could hear...was a horn of a car, echoing as he tried to force something as a memory out of his skull. He squeezed his fingers in a fist and tried with every fiber of his being. He even stopped breathing, felt his body start sweating from the efforts. Just as he was about to stop and take a breather, a flash appeared. It was sudden, yet so colorful he could not just pass it by. The image resembled the bridge…but it was not winter anymore. It was sunny and it was warm, with people aimlessly walking around as if they did not have anything to worry about in this carefree scene. Moment before losing the image and returning to reality…he managed to see himself…walking. His body felt heavy so he leaned on the bridges parapet coping and decided he wanted to relax for a few moments before trying again. Even then though, his mind struggled to keep everything it was seeing together. Yes, the image was clear but it was not giving him the answer he sought to see in the first place. It only gave him the same location he was in at the moment, but in a different season. Maybe that was the clue? He grunted annoyed at everything and stared at the waves bellow the bridge. Everything was piecing itself slowly…but the thing is he did not have the pieces to the puzzle. He closed his eyes, focusing only on the murmuring waters, playfully cascading around the surface of the ocean. The image…he tried to bring it to life, by using his barely holding mind together. If he was walking on this bridge…then, he was getting back from school. YES! He opened his eyes fully, remembering this detail...and then again…he was left with unanswered questions as to why he was forced to see these things…these dead people and animals. What was causing all this? Why was it happening? Why him? He was just a child! His eyes filled with tears he did not want to drop from their sockets. Once again, he gripped his hands in fists and gently struck the concrete coping. The wind was getting slightly better, in terms of coldness, yet he still felt it pass by and caress his face. It was not as cold as before, making his watery drops still fresh on his eyes. He brushed them off a bit ashamed of himself using back of his hand and blinked a few times. He needed to keep his emotions in check if he was going to find the solution to the problem. He had to. Jonny turned around…for he already knew there was something new happening. He needed to reset, so he could continue with the depressing emotionally draining mission he was on. He looked at the concrete structure in the middle of the bridge and for the first time…he did not see a change. -The Driver - How many times have Jonny closed his eyes, opened then and faced a different reality of the same place, same event, but with different characters? He was not even counting anymore. He did not need to anyway. He was not going to keep a diary with every notable occurrence in this dream like place he was in. He did not need to. Everything was entering his mind as a fresh new way of learning how to be himself. Jonny placed his hands in the pockets of his black school trousers and proceeded to walk down the not so cold and chilly bridge. He had noted in his mind that it was getting warmer and warmer, which was nice. Not that he could fully experience the sheer amount of coldness surrounding him; he just felt it slightly altered. Like it was there, but he was not exactly forced to live it. It was a stretch to even say he was living, because this constant strain of events was calling the "need to gather your thoughts" a mission, but having the reel of memories torn by some force was more than a catalyst to bring everything together. Therefore, Jonny exhaled loudly and looked at the blurry buildings in front of him. Heading home has been the primary motive this whole time. His footsteps echoed slightly as he walked further down the bridge, still the same as before. Mentioning how every single object there remained the same was redundant at this point. The only ever-changing thing was the concrete cone shaped structure. He had passed it without any problem, mainly because, as mentioned before, it was unchanged. "Nothing actually happened for it to change, it kinda makes sense for it not to" - thought the boy and continued walking with hands in the pockets. Just as he said it, he nearly missed the big brown vehicle, slightly parked over the border of the walking lane of the bridge. It was an old Opel Vectra, slightly aged with all of the scratches and different bumps over it. Jonny approached it slowly, hearing the quiet roar of the engine trying to start. He could see the silhouette of a person, twisting the key below the steering wheel. "Fooking Hell!" - yelled the unknown man. Jonny nearly grinned from that profoundly British expression from the lower classes, but then remembered the morbid reason he was here altogether and regained his serious composure again. The boy got closer to the driver side of the car and tapped on the side window. The driver almost received a heart attack, but just like the boy, regained his serious composure, with a bit of anger mixed in, and rolled the window down. -Ello lad! I am stuck! - He greeted and complained at the same time. -HI! Can I help somehow? - asked Jonny, seeing how desperate the person was. He looked distressed, with one big and long wrinkle etched onto his forehead. The sweat covering his completely bald temple was making the situation a bit comical, yet Jonny remained stoic in trying to be serious. -I was gettin' myself back from below-town, and as i's was crossing this bloody bridge, me car just fookin stopped, can you believe this? - The man continued explaining, making it ever harder for young Jonny not to crack a grin. -I can try pushing the car? We can hit the downhill of the bridge and you can use the inertia to start the car and head wherever you are heading! - proposed Jonny. The man looked ecstatic about that. -Oi, bloody good idea! Let us try it! - replied the man and gestured for Jonny to take place and push. The boy did that, and began using all of his strength into pushing the vehicle. The man got out as well, pushing the front side of the car. The wheels started turning and as Jonny had proposed, the downhill of the bridge started giving its advantage. The car moved! The inertia was proving to be a good ally. The bald man entered the Opel quickly, switched the keys in the ignition and the engine finally started roaring as it should. -Try to accelerate! - yelled Jonny, trying to see if the car would truly start and not die. He heard the man say something unintelligible, but as he sat on the seat and started giving it some gas, the car began doing what it was supposed to do. -Eyo, thank you mate! - yelled the man and stopped the car. It seemed like he wanted to talk so Jonny approached the car yet again, cheerful and kinda glad it started. As he got near the still rolled down window, the happiness in his heart evaporated just like the engine that stopped roaring. The bald man was now...dead. His previously shiny head was now splattered over the wheel, with his insides covering the front windshield. The cheerful fella was gone. Jonny instinctively gritted his teeth. This was getting out of hand. He smacked the hood of the car with the rage of yet another person who had lost their live and yelled out in the empty bridge. When he opened his eyes, again...he was yet again standing in a new place, with an old decor. His anger was more than he could handle so he got closer to the cone shaped structure and kicked the sign with all his force. It now noted: "In loving memory of the old lady, the cat, the girl, the lone boy and the driver!" -The Father- Once he was back in the reality where he and only himself resided, Jonny looked afraid to even look in any direction. It was beginning to dawn on him, that the whole absurd situation he was stuck in, might have been caused by…well by him. It was still unclear how, but thanks to his altered memories, he was not soon to find out. His eyes watered. He was out of his skin that he could not just remember exactly what went down back then. Tears blissfully started falling out of his eyes, as Jonny leaned back on the side of the parapet of the large Oxfordian bride, remaining the same as in the rest of the placed objects around him. “Why?!” – He asked himself. What was main catalyst for all this death around this place? Was it really him, or maybe some particular sequence that led to this catastrophe? “I have to try and think!” – Jonny said and pushed his mind further in the past to see what happened. His tears still falling out of his eyes however, made it harder. It reminded him of another situation he was in…in another situation that probably was important, because he was right back on this bridge. Alone, unimportant and deprived of any living being to tell him he was not going insane, and that he wasn’t taking any drugs. This was not just happening in his head…he was actually reliving the exact moment something awful happened. Jonny remained standing still by the center of the bridge, with the cone shaped structure still residing in its place. The strange part was that this time…it did not even have a sign to tell who had passed. The structure was empty, as it was probably designed to be at one point. He looked away towards the road where his home was. Maybe it was time for him to go back? Why were the tears still watering his cheeks though, if it was just a passing ordinary day? For some reason, in this confused state, he was still crying his eyes out. It was not long when he felt the distant buzzing of his phone vibrating. Taking it out of his pocket, Jonny saw that his mother was calling him. From all the encounters up to now…he had not been called. This was something new…this was something connecting everything. Or so he could think. Jonny touched the green phone icon on the display and brought the phone to his ear. -Hello, mother! – He said, trying to make his voice sound jolly. There was completely silence on the other side of the line, and for a slight second Jonny worried, that this might have been some sort of mistake on his mother’s part, as in she accidentally called him. Just as he managed to think about nearly every single think that might have occurred in the second he picked up the phone and no one said anything, he finally heard his mother’s voice. It sounded rough…as in she was taking all of her strength and putting it straight into delivering this next line that was going to be the main and only spark igniting the events that occurred. -Jonny dear…how are you? – She asked as the conversation finally picked up. -I am good mum, how are you doing, is everything alright? – replied the boy, still feeling those tears flowing out as if it was the most normal thing. For a moment, silence entered the space he was in, but she spoke again. -I am…fine my dear…how was school, everything good? – She continued. Jonny felt a sudden shiver, as he felt something bad was about to happen…just like those last times with the granny, cat, girl, boy and driver. -Um…yes, school was fine. I am heading home, will be there in ten minutes max! – He replied, thinking she was just checking on him. She was the more selfless parent of the two, giving her upmost attention to him, whenever she could. -DO NOT! Do not come back home Jonny! Your father…. – she yelled and then suddenly stopped. Everything in his body tensed. In a sense, he already knew what she was going to say…but he still needed to hear it. He still needed to understand. -HE WHAT?! – He yelled back, trying to see if his mother had not hanged up. There was no answer…only the painful weeping of a wife who was fighting back the wicked and dark waves of her own struggle with the pain of the loss. She did not say anything for a few minutes…but when she finally did…Jonny nearly fell on his knees. -he’s dead… - She said and hung up. Jonny was now crying…crying aware of the situation…fully commanding that need to distribute that harmful tension in his body. He was unleashing the moment he learned that his father had died. It was bringing everything back into a full circle of events. He suddenly looked at the cone shaped structure…and did not see anything. Through the tears, he could understand. THIS WAS IT! This was the main catalyst for everything that happened. “Not exactly!” – His own voice echoed in his mind. Jonny stopped crying…as his eyes were already dried out from everything that had left from them. He felt confused…yet determined. “Not exactly huh? Then I have to try it one more time…one more time for my own sake!” – He thought to himself and closed his eyes. This time…he was going to see what exactly went down. -Memories – When Jonny opened his eyes for the countless time during this cycle, he was faced with something soo different, he nearly passed away from the mind shock. He was back at the bridge, but this time, the whole place was colorful, it was warm enough to go outside without a jacket or big blouse over your t-shirt. Jonny was standing beside the cone shaped structure, while beside him stood Miley. Her outfit was more akin to a summer one, rather than the winter one she had when he last saw her. Her black hair was glistening from the sun above and made it shine like in those commercials where the hair literally glows. Her blue eyes were worried for a second, but when Jonny looked at her completely, she smiled. -Are you alright? You suddenly stopped! – She asked and touched his shoulder. He could feel the warmness spread across his checks, but only nodded. He could not remember what kind of relationship he had with her, but right now, that was not the case to get involved in. As he moved his head, Jonny finally noticed the small box in his hands, holding it upright and close to his stomach. Looking down he saw something dark and furry, and as he moved aside one of the card-box handles, he saw a tiny black cat, just lying there innocently. -Oh, is Mercury alright there?! – She asked and giggled, gingerly caressing the kitty’s head. When he heard that name, his mind instantly froze and remembered the gruesome picture of the dead cat in the snow. Was this really the same Mercury as before? Was this his cat? -I hope he is! – He said, as if it was planned to happen. Just then, his phone rang and his left hand quickly pulled it out from his jeans pocket and answered. It was his father. Before the conversation actually began, he, his mind I should say, finally understood what was going on. He was partially controlling and seeing what actually happened to his father…what triggered this whole event. -Hello dad, I am walking back from school – quickly stated the boy before his father said anything. -What is taking you so long!? Have I not told you that I want you straight back home, no dilly-dally!? – On the other side of the phone asked his father, already pissed about something. Jonny grunted and his attempt to handle this normally without confrontation quickly evaporated. Every day, the same old routine. The same phone call, the same tone, the same attitude. Was he not doing what he was supposed to do? Was he not walking back from where he was supposed to be walking back from? For crying out loud, he was just thirteen. He wanted to be free from this constant chain suffocating him all the time. And that’s when it hit him. Maybe it was not something random that triggered this event of him constantly crossing the same deadly scene all the time…maybe it was he himself that did it. -Will you leave me alone for one fucking moment! – He shouted something he had never done before, to neither of his parents. Miley even looked shocked with a slight smile revealing her agreement that he was always controlled to the tiniest detail. -What did you say?! WHAT DID YOU SAY YOU UNGRATEFUL SHIT?! – His father’s voice escalated to screaming, but right now, Jonny had him where he wanted to. -Oh you heard me old man! You fucking heard me! Can you not go back to your own precious job and threat me as a kid…which I am by the way! For god’s sake, I cannot be late one minute with you not being on my case about it! Can you please shut up!? – yelled Jonny back, not caring if some people were stopping to listen to him yell. On the other side of the call, his father had already kicked down the table and broken a few chairs already. He was ballistic. -Listen you shit! – He started, breathing heavily, - if you do not come back home in the next ten minutes, everything you know in your life is going to change really quickly when I send you to the military school! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE! – He yelled again, but Jonny did not bother to listen to his statements. -Nah, I do not think I will, as a matter of fact, I will rather spent my time with my girlfriend, which by the way, helped me decide on what kind of pet I should get, with your money of course. Moreover, you know what, I decided on a very playful little black kitten, which I shall raise on my own, and you will not do shit to, got it! – Jonny almost recited his words and looked at Miley, whose eyes were filled with hope. Maybe their relationship was really more than just friends? He could not know because on the other side of the call, his father was blatantly cursing him, his own son. Jonny did not really know why exactly his father hated him, but on the other hand, he did not want to know…it was something from the past, and he rather did not care about it. Miley squeezed his shoulder, and as he looked at her, the other side of the call…started getting weird. His father’s’ breathing started getting harder and harder. He was trying to say something, but his chest was about to erupt…when he simply collapsed and fell on the perfectly shined floor. He heard his mother’s’ scream and instantly regretted everything he just said to his father. Jonny awaited for something to happen…but as his mother took the phone from the grip of the father, she only mustered the strength to say: -Your father is dead… - before breaking down and crying. Jonny nearly shouted…but the scenery began twisting all of a sudden…and when his eyes adjusted to the place he was in…everything was different again. He was standing on the Oxfordian bridge…the whole section was grey and foggy…not like before where it remained rather still. It was warmer than before as well, with no sign of the winter season being there. He turned to see if something had changed from the last time he was here, but the sign and every other object remained as the last time he saw them. More so…he knew something important. He was the one responsible for the death of everyone he had met in this journey. He was the catalyst. -You are very close, but you need not worry yourself with the key to all this… - said someone with a low voice that had suddenly appeared behind him. Afraid to turn around and see who stood beside the cone shaped structure…Jonny eventually did, slowly and trying not to be afraid. He turned around…only to face…himself. -The Boy- He was really looking at himself. Everything from top to bottom resembled, even reflected Jonny to its tiniest detail possible. From the school trousers, to the same brown leather shoes his father bought him. Even the tight white button-up shirt was the same. The jacket was now gone from both their shoulders; mainly because it was already hot in the place, they were standing at…the bridge. Jonny stared in the eyes of his doppelganger, not knowing what to say. The more he looked though, the more he started to see a small difference between them. Even if his facial features were basically the same. The way his nose got a bit sharper, while his cheeks remained sunk in, his overall characteristics there was still something missing. His eyes…they…were not…golden? The more he stared into the irises of the person standing before him, the more he understood that this boy was not him. -You do not need to be afraid to say something… - said the Jonny look-alike, without even moving his lips. The voice resounded in the empty space they were in, so much so Jonny shivered for a split moment, not expected for the other person to speak. -What…what are you? – asked the boy, feeling his lips form the words. It was strange talking with someone who was not actually doing the verbal commands with his mouth. The other Jonny smiled and got closer. The way he walked, as if he did not have a bother in the world made the real boy feel slightly envious. When the clone got so close, they could basically see their reflections in their eyes, the other spoke, but this time, he moved his lips. -I am your angel, just like the other angels overlooking the soul attached to them…I am here to observe you, protect you, and make your way towards your goals feel less burdened with fear and darkness. I was looking at your journey through the “In-Between”. This place we are in right now. The place where ghosts, try to fight and do what they feel is the final deed they need to do before they die. In other words, or in simple terms, you are in the place you go before you go to the “Afterlife”. – said the Angel and smiled. Jonny was more confused more than ever in his entire life. Firstly, he started asking himself the big question…”Was he dead?”, then he began to venture out into his chasm of a mind and ask another one…”What is my final deed I need to do?”. He looked at his clone angel and was about to ask him the same questions, but the look on the face of his own face…made it redundant. He already knew, subconsciously. He knew he was dead from the point he started asking himself why he was constantly returning to the same place, with the same buildings, but only to a different person ending up as the one who is dead. -Your mission is to connect everything…embrace your memories as much as possible, so that you can be able to rest in peace, knowing that what you did…was not entirely your fault. Nothing ever is…but blaming everything on yourself is not the way – suddenly said the Angel, grabbing his shoulder. Jonny felt the sudden warmth spreading through his entire body, but his questions still felt unanswered. He had already seen everything he needed to see. Or so…he though. -I was the one who caused the death of my father! The others soon followed in some way…I do not know how, but I know I am somehow responsible for this damn cycle! – replied Jonny, feeling only regret, about his words to his father. The angel shook his head, and smiled yet again. It felt very strange to look at yourself smiling, and even so, smiling more genuinely than you yourself have ever smiled before. He did not know what to say anymore. His hopes had failed him, because he was the killer, only not in form of physically murdering someone…but by his verbal actions. There was nothing more to it. -Oh but there is child…you just do not see it yet. You are still missing one big piece of the puzzle…the one that connects everything. If you do not see it…you will not be able to go within. Trapped here to re-live the same day until you manage to understand what actually happened. You are not the only one responsible…everyone plays a part, big or small…you just ignited one of the paths to the tragedy…and now you need to unlock the second one…the actual one. You just need to see! – said the Angel and touched the forehead of the boy, still struggling to understand. As it did…everything went black…and Jonny was back on the bridge…the one he always found himself at. He looked around, gazing upon the architecture of the big and old structure he was standing upon. The boy really wanted to understand…to learn what happened to everyone. He closed his eyes, trying to see something…but his mind felt heavy and overwhelmed to even muster the strength to go anywhere. Grunting and exclaiming something he should have not, Jonny walked by the cone shaped structure in the middle of the bridge and looked at the hanging sign. His eyes expanded, looking at the once again changed headline. It read: "In loving memory of the old lady, the cat, the girl, the lone boy, the driver and the school boy!” Who else had perished here? Jonny looked and stared at the words until he finally figured it out. It was the very first question he asked himself when the Angel explained to him why he was here. “So I am dead as well…I die here too…” – He stated, no longer a question. As he did…a light emerged from the cone structure and tore a piece out of it. It nearly fell down, but maybe…that was supposed to happen. Jonny summoned all of his strength and courage; feeling that was his opportunity to finish everything, and pulled onto the destroyed piece. It collapsed, only to tear off a bigger one, a huge chunk he was not able to catch by himself. He extended his hands in attempt to grab it…but it only collided with his head…and left him to fall on the cold ground. And everything became black again… To be continued… -Reel of Time- Volume Final When Jonny opened his eyes, this time the effort to do so was much greater than any time during that hellish cycle. Maybe because he had not actually used them for months and months. Feeling hazy, with the ceiling rotating in a motion that made his stomach sick, he looked away and closed them for a bit. Once the boy looked at the place he was in again…his mind instantaneously regained everything. As if a funnel had entered though his ear and had slowly but surely poured the missing information into his head. As in a gaze, he started remembering. He and Miley were walking back from school. Just like the time he saw it, twice in different aspects of the same memory. He was holding Mercury, his brand new kitten, which had curled up into its brand new box and was enjoying its nap. For a second he looked at its collar and glanced upon the writing and smiled. "This precious girl belongs to the household of "Jonathan Newton Turner". Miley’s eyes shined with passion and love, looking back at the boy who was walking back home with her. They had decided on Mercury because both of them wanted to have something connecting them even more. They had thought of different names, starting from Pluto, the black cat with the same eyes from the Edgar Allan Poe’s story, “The Black Cat”, but since it was too hot during the time they adopted it, they decided upon Mercury. Miley smiled even wider, looking at the excited eyes of Jonny, who had finally done something on his own, without the permission of his parents…finally starting to do things his way. Jonny quickly winked at the girl and giggled. He was going to introduce her to her family… along with his kitten…or at least attempt to. On the other side of the road, on the bridge, one of the most important characters, if you could call an object that way; a driver, from the lower parts of town was heading towards the upper parts to get a part for his brother who really needed it to fix his car. Not wearing a seatbelt, his windows all rolled down because of the cold weather, he was speeding up past the limit, trying to get there in time before the shop closed. He was about a mile behind them. The kids continued walking until Jonny’s phone ringed just by the cone shaped stone structure, probably the second most important character for an object. Jonny stopped so he could pick up the phone. That call was the catalyst, and the words exchanged between father and son…were gruesome, but needed. In his mind Jonny, picked right back up after the conversation ended. “Your father is dead…” – echoed the voice of his mother, notifying the young boy of the passing of his late parent. Jonny nearly dropped the box he was holding, but still managed to shout in full disbelief. “WHAT!?- He screamed. With that very scream, Mercury, the tiny black cat was spooked and quickly jumped from the box, running away from his distressed owner. It headed towards the road, but Jonny was not able to react as quickly as Molly did. In the same time, the driver of the old Opel Vectra was speeding just as Mercury had gotten on the road. Seeing it too late, he got confused and turned right…towards the sidewalk side of the Oxfordian bridge. Molly could not grab the kitten in time, as it got rolled under the wheels of the car, just like she herself got completely ran over. The driver was now panicking even more and instead of the stop, he hit the gas while still moving past the dead girl and cat. The Vectra collided with the cone shaped object in front of it, tearing a large chunk, which flew away and struck the head of Jonny, who was breathing heavily in disbelief of what he was seeing. He fell down unconscious in a pool of his own blood, spurting out of his wounded temple. However, the tragedy did not end here. The Opel continued its uncontrolled drive and completely ran over a garbage bin, with a younger beggar boy who was sitting there since dawn trying to earn some money from the common folk. The car finally stopped as the bin actually managed to stop the inertia, but the driver was not as lucky, because both times he collided with said structures, he struck his head into the steering wheel…hard and brutal, with the final second time…being fatal. While all of this happened in the span of a second, an older woman, nearly as poor as the dead beggar gypsy boy, saw everything and remembered she had an old medical kit since before she was a medical assistant many years ago. She dropped all of her groceries and headed towards her house, which was closer to the bridge. She nearly ran there, and as she made it, her thoughtfulness was her demise, because the med kid was located in the basement. She removed the hanged carpet upon the wall as quickly as possible and quickly started running down the few steps. That is when her foot slipped, and all of her body descended down the concrete steps and crashed into the basement floor…broken and twisted in unnatural ways. She was not even involved into the crash…but she still happened to be part of the tragedy. Jonny blinked, feeling the tears rolling down like waterfalls over the eight dead souls that had nothing bad attached to them. They were just all in the wrong place, at the wrong time…living their lives…and yet somehow he had managed to make it out. He tried breathing, but the air tube in his mouth prevented it from happening. Jonathan was in a hospital, miraculously surviving the horrible car crash. His pulse was beginning to sharpen up, with the machine that kept track beeping profusely. His mother, sleeping beside him on a couch, with her brown hair covering her face, woke up confused, and instantly started yelling for the doctors to come and stabilize the young man. -Do not worry dear; everything is going to be okay! – She started caressing his hands, and slowly whispering! , - Do not worry! DOCTOR, NURSE! –she screamed for help. The medical staff quickly entered the room and started working on stabilizing the state of the boy who had been in a coma for the last three months since the accident. He had lost a lot of blood, but the medics managed to save him. As the doctors were pouring down painkillers and nerve-relievers, Jonathan looked at his mother, and then at the small window close to the bed he was laying on. His eyes expanded once more, just before going back to sleep again. Jonny saw the older lady, Mercury, Miley, the driver, the gypsy boy …and his Father. They were all nearly visible to the naked eyes, but he still saw them. They were all smiling and waving at him…Their lips formed a word, while the cat only meow-ed, but the gesture was more than clear. All of them…said, “Thank You!” And Jonny went to sleep again. Five Years Later. The wind was still as sharp as ever. His windbreaker was doing most of the work, but regardless of that, for autumn, it was quite chilly. He had spent some time avoiding this very place, but in the end, fate had decided that he needed to come here…and see. His feet stopped by the cone shaped stone structure…located in the middle of the Oxfordian Bridge named, “Fate”. He smiled when he learned that detail while doing some research on the current subject. He was still the same boy, rather, young man, with the curiosity and vigor of anyone willing to change his life around. Yet he was free. Finally, he was free. Jonathan Walker looked at the sign on the structure and felt a slight breeze of goosebumps go by his whole stature. It noted: “In loving memory of Elizabeth Livemore, Mercury the Cat, Miley Sunlock, Simsi, Trevor Vehilard and Jonathan Newton Turner!” Jon smiled and caressed the fur of the ginger cat sitting patiently and lovingly onto the shoulder of the man. It was a ginger cat with white straps over its body, and black circle stripes over its eyes. He was hesitant about getting another pet after Mercury, but that is what Miley would have wanted. Naming it Mars, he continued the “M” legacy of names with the feline. Its sweet vibrating murmur kept him peaceful, while still looking directly into his name. He was no longer a “Turner”. He and his mother changed their names to “Walkers” as soon as they sold the Tabaco Company for more than they could ever imagine. They started a normal life, now that his father was not there to control everything. At first, Jon did not know how to proceed with his life, but it soon become clear to him, that this was his second chance, and that even with all the hardships and strict rules his father had paved onto his previous life, he still had done it for his own future. Now that he was older, he understood it, and cherished those moments, yet still preferred his new style of life. Now he was free to do everything he could not before. He entered a public school, made friends, went out, and had a life. His mother was fine with it, as long as he was happy. It was her only child, so she would give her life…for his. Jon was now nearing the end of twelfth grade, and he had to decide upon a college and other professions. It was an important choice for him, but soon as he started growing from his previous self, he was keen on the quill, and making up random stories. It was either going to be something involving philosophy or something connected to writing. Either way, he was good…his life was good, he had good and many a friends, a new pet and…many memories. Memories that still produced questions he could not really fully comprehend at first, but began to slowly understand as time went by. What troubled him the most was his conversation with his guardian angel, and how everyone had one. He wondered about all of those people that died…did they have an angel to help them? Jon was aware that maybe all of this might have been just a big strange dream…but I did not feel that way. He was truly saving their souls, taken by such a heavy and almost absurd way. He understood that his mission was to guide their souls to the Afterlife…and make their journey easier, as he himself was battling to stay alive until he was finished with that task. He asked himself questions, he could not really answer. He wondered If they all had a second chance…Maybe not, since they had died on the spot…and he was just injured enough to enter the nethers for ninety days. He wondered if other people had that chance like him; when they were also injured enough to barely die? Did they also help other souls, make their way towards the light easier to handle? As Jon continued onto the Hope Bridge, with Mars on his shoulder, his eyes glanced upon the waves underneath the structure, gently crashing by the piers, and continued questioning reality…humanity and the overall reason as to why they were here. -Meow! – Meow-ed Mars and licked his ear. Jon smiled but did not stop walking, but managed to extend his hand as to pet his precious friend. -Maybe you are right buddy…maybe we are all just a simulation! – He said and chuckled. As he did, he turned to look ahead, and just then, by one of the lampposts ahead…he could swear on everything he loved and cared about…that he saw the faint hints of a wing graciously ascending above. Jonathan smiled and remembered the angel. Maybe things were real…No. They were real. Everything was real…he himself was alive…well, and real. But just for ninety days…when everything revolved around him helping other ghosts to their afterlife…where he had to do so in order to survive and manage to understand what truly happened. Just for those months…he was really dead…yet, alive and helping others. Helping them walk past the gate to the heavens. He, just for that time, was truly… A Ghost-Walker.
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-Letter-
Volume 7 Starter “My name is Vladislav Komeruev. If you are reading this, then I am dead. I have lived all my life in this small town we call “Umalieno”, that I cannot really express anything rather than sadness for my end. What I can say, however, is far more important than anything. My family is cursed. A curse that no one knew existed until it fell upon us, and brought us to misery and untold sorrow. The curse is not known to the rest of the people of the small town, in this Russian winter hell we live in. It is only us…the ones who live in the two-story house, at the coast of the huge forest of snowy covered trees. Perhaps it is a punishment for buying the house, a hundred years ago when my ancestors bought it and made it our own. No one really knew when it was build, but at the front porch of the big old thing, there is a date planted right above the front door saying “1895”. We have been living in there for a century…and for that century, we all have suffered loss, pain and immense heartbreak over the fact that the male heirs die. Each year…when winter hits…although it always snow’s here…the male heir of the family dies a terrible death. No one knows what truly happens, no one wants to know. You only get a warning when a black dot under the index finger appears. The mark of death. There are old records of our family, with all the male heirs and their deaths. Each say one thing before the gruesome description. “Death by heart-attack”. When they die however…they are not left alone. The thing that does it…if there is truly a thing, and I am left to believe there is…it takes something away from the victim. A few winters back…my father died missing his arms, torn out of their sockets as if he was a ragged toy. Nanna believes it is the work of the satana. What I know is that I carry the black dot now…and i am next. After me is my son, and his little brother…the last of the male heirs. I am not afraid of dying, but giving my family away into the hands of this thing. I AM SCARED OF LEAVING THEM TO THIS DYAVUL.” Vladislav Komeruev. 1995. Vasya found the letter tucked away in the cabinet of his father, with tears falling down his eyes. The thing had got to him last night…it had left him without a head. As he was carrying the letter down to his family, he couldn’t stop thinking about next year…about what was to come for him. He was thinking about the devil. -Dreadful Life - His head was hurting from the dome to the neck. His whole body was trembling from the sheer cold that was covering his body. Opening his eyes made it worse. Vasya was in the forest, deep in the unknown, laying in the snow, frozen with both fear and dread. He struggled to get up, and once he did, he looked around. The empty grave still poured out unimaginable aroma that made the boy's head dizzy. He struggled to move and once he did, his legs almost gave out. He fought to keep himself standing, and grabbing the wooden cross that was stabbed in the ground in front of the grave prevented him from falling. Something else though clouded his eyes. A memory perhaps or a fragment of lost times. It was yet again at a winter day when the scene happened. Two masked men were dragging another one, and old fellow by his collar. He was pleading. His words were muttered but from somewhere Vasya could hear that his pleads were honest. His wife and kids were murderer and he was pleading to spare him, so he could bury them. The masked men didn't bother obliging him. One even struck him with the hilt of the knife he was holding. "No, no, don't, please!" - Tiredly asked the man, while being carried. The masked men stopped and started beating him down. His muffled screams echoed around even more. "Shut up! Give us the inherence to the house!" - yelled one of the man and placed the knife to his throat. The watered eyes of the white haired man looked at him with rage. Vasya understood that this was all about the house. Their house! The place where he and his family lived at. One of the masked man yelled for him to give the document, but the old man spat in his eyes. He mobber cursed and ordered something to the other. The knife underneath his throat slid across the flesh and opened it up. The sound it made ran through the stiff body of the boy, as if he himself was killed. The old man was dead in a few moments after his body fell on the ground, with his blood painting a pattern on it. After that, they made the grave and buried him there. In the cold ground. The vision ended and Vasya found himself standing at the exact same spot. The only difference was that the grave was empty. And the old man in it, was now a dyavul. -The Mark - One year later. The funeral had passed; they laid his emotionless body on the cold ground. It was not even a proper grave, only a ruggedly dug out hole in which they placed his corpse and then buried it…marking the stone with his names. A full twelve months afterwards, Vasya was looking out of the window when he noticed it. Something black-ish was crawling underneath his hand. His palm was twitching rapidly for a second until the black dot ended on the tip of his index finger. It didn’t hurt; actually, it didn’t even feel as if there was something at all. His eyes, blue and wide stared at it for the longest of time until something made him snap and remember. This wasn’t a thorn, or a piece of wood stuck inside his finger. It was something…something he couldn’t really explain. How did it actually occur that this marking always struck the male heirs? Who did it? How did it happen? Why was it happening to him all of a sudden? He looked up and saw his reflective dark hair in the glass of the window. He was crying. One year had passed since they found his father’s body lying in the snow, headless and dead. One year…and he knew what that meant. Each year, the new mark would appear…and it would take another one from the family. It would take another person’s life away. And this winter…right before the holidays…it was his time to suffer the curse of the spirit living in their forest. “Vasya! Dinner is ready, get down!” – ordered his mother. He heard it, but didn’t want to move one bit. His legs were somehow glued to the floor, and once he tried moving, they felt as if they were made out of marble. Vasya somehow made it out of his room. His feet were climbing down the stairs leading to the first story of the house rather reluctantly. When his mother saw his gloom face, the fear itched on his skin, pale and ghostly, she knew. But when he raised his hand and revealed his index finger to the rest of his family; mother, grandmother, sisters and brother…they all screamed in synch. He was marked to die this winter. -Legends – Vasya sat on the dinner table and didn't know what to say. Both his mother and grandma didn't know what to say either. Remembering all the previous times when their loved ones received their mark just made it harder for them to believe that their fourteen-year-old boy was going to perish soon, in this crippling winter village. -Does it sting? - asked Vanko, his little brother. Katya his little sister had grabbed his hand in order to make him feel better, while Lena, the older with one-year sister remained shocked, worried and mad that they had to suffer through this. Vasya shook his head. It did not hurt. It was scary however. The message it came with terrified the boy. The rabbit stew was starting to cool down, which was why their mother told them to eat up. No one wanted after the discovery, yet they did anyway. They had to keep themselves warm. -When will it happen? - asked Vasya, picking his food with the old silver spoon left from older times. They knew what he was asking, and hiding it wouldn't be a wise decision. His grandmother Olga spoke, -It happens a day or two before Christmas Eve. Most of the times it is outside the house. Your grandfather was found in the woods while chopping wood for the stove. His brother was found in the chicken hen collecting eggs. All gruesomely killed. - She said in a grim elderly voice. Vasya was staring beyond her, trying not to visualize the thing she was saying. It didn't work. -Why?! - asked the little Katya, her eyes covering with tears. - Why is this happening to us? All the members felt her sadness, Vasya especially knowing he was next. His sorrow however was replaced with anger. This wasn't going to happen if they lived somewhere else. For what reason did they not move from here? Yes, they were almost deadly poor, but they could have lived a better life if they moved, right away. For something to happen every year, it didn't make sense. He expressed his frustrations, saying what was on his mind. His mother however shook her head and couldn't even think about that. Olga only looked gloom and worried, staring at her grandson. -You are right about some of the things, but wrong about one. It is not every year that this happens, despite your father thinking so. - Her words echoed around the house. The thing in the woods does not mark girls at all and boys bellow the age of ten. That is why you are still here. Although your father and his brothers were wiped away. With his uncles, and his fathers and theirs and so on. You see, everything has a reason to happen. Nevertheless, I do not truly know why it does - she said and stood up from the table. This revelation she just shared with the family was almost like a shock. In one way, it explained how they had survived for such a long time. Diner having finished and their plates almost untouched, the kids and their parents returned to either their rooms, or the warm evening living room. Vasya returned to his room, in which he didn't do much, just stared at the ceiling...thinking that he had not much than two more weeks on this earth. -Slow Time - The time passed, but it seemed like it didn't at all. The little frosty snowflakes covered the ground and engulfed it with snow. There wasn't anything a boy his age could do. His only entertainment was books he had already ran through. Even his thoughts were rhyming to make the time run by, but it didn't work, so he stopped and looked at the clock. It showed seven thirty, a time for him to go to bed and pretend he is asleep. However, he didn't want to do anything, so he continued to stare out the window, glaring at the picture, the horizon before his eyes. Eyes filled will with water, liquid not wanting to hide. He was crying. And he couldn't do anything to stop it. It was as if his tears were unleashed oceans from his mind. Boosted by the very flow of this inexistent being that has killed his family for years. This thing, creature, roaming in the forest, forest covered with nothing but wild animals. Vasya started eying down each tree, trying to look for an oddly shaped fella, but it didn't happen, there was nothing but old bodies of wood, standing there silently watching back. The snow on the ground and on the branches and crowns were somehow blinding his bright blue eyes. And then the idea was born. What if he went there? Trying to explore alone. What if the man of the family managed to kill this beast before he fell ill? It could work! He thought to himself as he was taking a jacket. But how was he going to find the thing that was the question. Leaving that to a side, he focused on tying his boots. He was going to need em if he was to reach the truth. He looked at the clock and it showed five to eight. "Time really does fly when you have stuff to think about” - stated the boy as if a king giving a speech. He had some time before time completely wipes up his idea. Vasya left the room and then the house, without saying a single thing to anyone, leaving in search for answers, and perhaps…revenge too. -Explore- It was cold. Very at that. Yet the boy didn’t falter in moving further in the frozen labyrinth of trees. His youth was filled with exploration over these very woods, but not when they were covered with thick layers of snow. At some point, his foot got stuck in a pile, but with enough motivation, he flushed it out and continued walking further in the hearts of the forest. He would always ask himself, where were these trees leading up to? He never figured it out. As much as he could walk though, he would always back out. Not because he was afraid of course, but because he was getting beyond the track to his house. He was already a kilometer in the forest when he thought about that. “No turning back now” – he thought, not wasting the precious light from the sun down. It was already getting darker, being probably over eight o’clock. That didn’t matter, he was going to reach something or give up. In reality, he didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe some sort of magical place that could help him with this problem of the being killing his folk. Crazy, but an idea, which some something to make him go. Either that, or wait until the beast had devoured his soul. His thoughts viciously started exploring the memories of all other family members found dead from the past years. Grandfathers, uncles, fathers, all dead because of this thing. While reminiscing, he avoided some snow covered thorns, grown out in the deepest parts, and made sure not to step in another hole. That didn’t help much. Imagining blood stained white puff on the ground didn’t ease his mind. It made it sharper though, made him take guard, even if there wasn’t much going on. His senses were on edge, while walking harshly on the path. It wasn’t really a path though, more like a route he made out on the go. The strangely planted next to each other wooden giants weren’t exactly making it go fluently in passing them, all the while the ground was covered with thirty centimeters of snow. It made it harder, for the strength of the legs was ideal here, and being a little bit skinny, Vasya was breathing as if he was running, this whole time. Passing one bigger walnut tree, he saw something like a clear space. It was formed in a circle, and there was nothing there…but a rudely made grave. It was uncovered…opened…with stench covering the entire place. Covering his mouth, he took a few paces towards it, but…nothing, there was nothing there…only blood in the two meter dug out soil. Just then, he heard it…a low guttural sound, behind him. The last thing he saw before he fainted…was something like a spirit, or a rudely drawn ghost, covered in blood…with nothing but red orbs for where the eyes would be. -Another One Bites - The boy ran and ran. Knowing the origin of the thing, he wanted to save his family. He had to think of a way to make it to them before it did. Vasya knew he had to rush as much as he could, even if the snow was tripping his legs, or the freezing cold was making it immensely hard to. Not wasting time, he left the grave ground and summoned as much as energy to get back the same way he came from. He could see the trail had gotten bigger. Someone else had crossed the path he used, after him. "No, no, no!" - He thought, thinking of all of his siblings and relatives. Vasya knew he angered him by waking it up earlier it should have. He was mad. It was mad. No longer was the grandpa commanding this thing. It was his reborn rage that controlled the being marching towards his own house. He had to warn the others, if there were any left. That thought made him muster all the strength he had in this world and run with all of it, not letting any be wasted in this moment. At one point, the trees that were more than familiar started getting denser. As if they had been pushed in order for the thing to move more quickly. It was actually helpful for Vasya, but that only made it ever more frightening. "Please, please! Be there! All of you! - He pleaded in his mind. Without realizing it, he had tears in his eyes. He was responsible for the actions of the dyavul, and he alone was going to mourn if something were to happen. The trail got even bigger, figuring he was out of the woods. Eventually he saw the house. Old and battered by the years, it was still standing. Vasya ran a bit more, the final paces. It was incredible what the human body can do in this situation. Vasya crossed and walked the distance to the building then turned left and surrounded it. There was no sign of the thing. He took a large breath. Just then, he saw how Lena opened the front door, holding a plastic bag filled with leftover food. They always left it out for the animals and what not. When she saw him, his little sister waved. As if to torture his mind, her head fell off clean as she did the gesture. The cut was almost invincible and he did not see where it came from. The blood that spew like a fountain, her small collapsing body, he remembered it all and shivered. His body twitched and he did not remember screaming, but he did. - Nooo! - He cried seeing his little sister murdered, killed by this dyavul. -Way to End - They buried her. That same day Vasya watched how his little sister was being put in the dirt…all because of him. If he hadn’t stepped in the forest, through the trees and further in the resting place of the creature lurking in the shadows…this whole thing wouldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t see his little brother, elder sister, mother and grandma crying…crying for little Lena, being shoveled with dirt with each passing moment. Vasya wasn’t talking at all after that. Only remaining quiet after the fact his sibling was murdered by this…whatever it is. He was mad at himself for not being able to avoid losing another one of his family. The rest of the same day of the funeral…if it can be called that, they spent most of the time in the house, old and nearly destroyed, in the living room, although there wasn’t any room for a lively conversation. The most empty and distraught place in the world…perhaps, at least? He wouldn’t know…he was stranded here…without a way to break this cursed luck of theirs. Or was there? He was looking at the faces of his relatives…all gloomy, saddened and in pain. His was the same…but there was an itch making its way in his brain. It was telling him to ditch this place and move away somewhere safe. It was telling him to make sure to run as fast as he could, but there was still one thing stopping him. -We need to run! – He suddenly said, making everyone look up at him with curiosity. His grandma scoffed and his mother didn’t say anything. -I’m serious, we need to run! We have to leave this place…we are all doomed to die here! – Vasya raised his voice. No one was listening though. It was as if they were accepting their fate. He knew there was a way to stop this thing…he knew it. Why wouldn’t, they listen to him?! -It will always catch up to us. – Quietly said his grandma, staring at the lit candle in the middle of the table. Vasya couldn’t believe how given up all of them were. His rage was consuming his senses. There had to be a way…there always was one way to go. Looking at the candle on the table…a light in his mind suddenly lit ablaze his head with an idea. Suddenly, there was a way. Fire. -Facing the Fiend - Fire. That was the answer to the problem of the family for so many years now. Vasya was on to something. He wanted to burn it down, and have nowhere else to go…he wanted to destroy the legacy of this place, to make sure to erase every single death, with the embers of the smothering ashes of the burned house. For that to happen, he had to do it. The rage was still playing with his brain; it was commanding each and every move. Grabbing the only source of light in the house, he took the candle and blasted off the room. His mother yelled, his grandma didn’t even understand how the darkness entered her view, but it all didn’t matter. He wanted revenge for Lena, and he was going to have it, one way or another. The chamber for the fat was right outside the kitchen door. It was in a closet, tucked away in a jar, smelly and nasty, but it didn’t matter. He grabbed it, and started spreading it. For the flame to consume everything, only a little spark was needed. The fat was that wick he needed to enclose the whole building made of wood, in flames. -NO! – yelled his mother and rushed in to stop him. Too late. They were entirely too late to stop the spreading of the source of mass onto the wood of the house. Vasya was quick in spilling it all. Molxa pleaded his son to stop what he was doing, but he wasn’t even hearing her. Throwing the candle, lit and dripping with wax, the flame touched the mass of fat…and there it grew into fire. -VASYA YOU IMBECILE! – confronted Olga, his grandmother. Never was he called that way…no longer did he care about that though. It didn’t matter. The fire started burning through the wood and most importantly spreading, which was the main ingredient in this endeavor. The house was finally burning…just like the anger had instructed the boy to do. In his mind, the house was the key to it all. If there wasn’t a house, there wasn’t going to be a creature roaming around and killing his family. Katya and Vanko were afraid, even though his sister was older than he was. Vasya on the other hand awaited patiently, waiting for it to show. And that was gratified with…death. Olga fell, still rushing and trying to stop the spreading of the flame. Her head was missing. A fountain of blood erupted from her neck, with her bone exposed as the hose. The fiend had entered the fight, standing there, in front of his own house, the one taken from him too many winters ago. It was covered; it was somehow made out of blood. Floating and growling, the red eyed beast…was finally face to face with its prey. -Dyavul- Volume Final Vasya watched as his face, covered with blood and fear, twitched by the sight of the shapeless monster vibrating in the porch of the house. The red ghastly creature stared, did not produce any sound and observed as the mother screamed with all her might. Her eyes almost expanded twice their size, spreading the orbits awfully close to them popping out. The guttural melody that came out of her throat angered the fiend. With a slight glance with its wicked red orbs, her head exploded like a melon. The chunks of brain splattered all over the kids, still shaking. Katya fainter instantly. Not every day did her grandmother, mother and sister die. Vanko, standing behind Vasya, whose dread, had risen to his mouth looked in fear, not knowing what was going on. Vomiting on the spot, there was nothing but black stomach juices. The elder brother had not eaten much. -What’s happening?! - asked Vanko, trying to get ahold of his older brother. Just then, a tentacle flew pass the kneeling boy and pierced the younger one in the chest. The gaping hole that emerged was big enough to fill three heads of a normal human. Vanko did not need any human heads to fill that emptiness. He just needed closure. That is the very thing he received. Closing his eyes, he was gone from this terrible fate. Katya was still lying unconscious on the wood floor, while the only living male left to die was Vasya. His nerves were tearing his mind and slicing the reality of what had just happened. "It was all my fault!" he kept thinking, watching as the red being floated towards him. It was coming for him. Finally, after the wait and all, this was going to be end of his road. -I tried to help you! Break this…cycle! - He said and spun a look around the house. That made him dizzy, but it did not matter. His cores were staring at the ones of the demon. -Bringing this house down was the only option for you to rest! - He now yelled, feeling his throat going sore. The phantom was even closer, with its stench growing stronger. It was not that it was reeking with a disgusting aroma; it was the blood, the blood from the past members of his family, the blood coated in the walls. It was the smell of death. With an eye-expanding glare, the whole house erupted and scattered to ashes as if the wind blew powerfully, aided by the speed of light. Smithereens flew in the air. The leftover of what the old building represented. Katya and the bodies of the members were disintegrated. Only Vasya remained, looking at the demon with nothing but hopelessness. -I just wanted to help... - he muttered and saw the expanding mouth towards him. The shapeless creature tore open its head, shifting it to look like a fierce mouth, razor teeth and void - like vast hole. Not even having the chance to blink, the boy who tried to break the curse was consumed completely. His body vanished in mere seconds. The being swallowed him, chewed him up and ate the human boy, actually ending the cycle, for there was no one else left. Looking around, the dyavul saw nothing but white puffy snow, surrounding the once house. Something deep within it, a strange like sharpness escaped its body. The soul of the original owner. He had taken its toll and had nothing more to collect. The red floating mass of nothing collapsed and dispersed as if a fire extinguished. The dyavul was no more, and life was gone along with it. The dyavul was dead, and everything along, without pity. The dyavul had vanished; destroyed he had the souls of all, no more terror in this city. -Introduction-
Volume 6 Starter “Before we start with the story I’m about to foretold, first you need to know me, the one who did those horrible things to the children and youths. You wouldn’t know me as a regular ghost, nor would you assume I am a specter for a quick spook. Even though, they use me as such, but never do they know that the boogeyman isn’t just a scary horror-show. I am, much more than that, I am an evil lore. Something not only from the tales, but also from the ancient times. I bring the gift of terror and dread from my eyes, not only that, I can manipulated time, I can shapeshift, take souls I could even tell you me recent list of names I really do like. Mary, Violet, Collin, the most recent victim to my greedy crimes. Don’t tell me you don’t understand the deed in do and thrive. Make rowdy children, sometimes not even that bad, shiver in their little beds, and scream when they see me creep in. That’s my job, to make them feel what it’s like to burn because you’re bad. Make an adolescent feel the sensation of burning alive. For I am the one who dwells in darkness, and makes so that your child has nowhere to hide. I am the Boogeyman, the one no one can ever try to catch or find; while I can catch, you anytime you do something mischievous…so do not let me try. Now that you know my forte, and my portfolio is nearly done, I shall retell a story where I nearly won. Trapping two kids in hell and forcing them to run, this tale is about two children that try to escape my realm, while seeing the misery, darkness, and overwhelming amount of children rum. Not because they were red, meaty, and sweet or fun, no, their blood is delicious, something I would rather enjoy as I watched them roast on the spindle, and just feel their little hearts trying to beat to the warmth of the endless black sun. Thus, the preparations are nearly done. I met you; you met my endless amount of wit and hum. For today, that is all folks, but remember to tune in for the second round, for I will be bringing the two contestants that will have to run and run and run and run until their hearts, run out.” -Arrival in Abyss- “Two souls packed in the bag. They were there for me to enjoy the little life in their bodies, still beating intact. Left there to sit and maybe rot, they were just the dessert from the royal dinner I just had. As I was to grab them and make them sweet and tender, something different occurred in my head, as If it was the sound of thunder. Maybe, just maybe, I can make something happen in this real of boredom. Make the two little piggies fight for their lives, and not end up like supper. Yes! Splendid idea from my twisted brain. Two little soldiers, fighting on my terrain.” The children fell from somewhere comfy, onto the rigid and hard ground. Looking around the boy and girl didn’t see any human or animal left to roam this forsaken town. It wasn’t even a town to be sure; they thought it was just a huge area that didn’t have much to offer as in fun. Kailey the girl suggested they run, while Billy the boy wanted to be calm. Agreeing on walking they entered this newly spawn…continuing further into the game of the “shadow one”. The kids didn’t know me, for they were still growing, yet the legends of the boogey were engraved into their grooves. Both were a bit spooked to be here, as there was literally nothing to see, only vast amounts of sand, heat and feelings of grief. And that wasn’t all, the red sky that adored their chins. It was as if a dragon was breathing fire, but it was forever launching the flames from his mouth, and emitting heat from his skin. Billy thought they were in one, while Kailey believed they were in a dream. One moment they were playing outside, hide and seek, the next one they were here, in this warm and heavy to live by abyss. -Level 1- They continued further down the road leading to nowhere but mystery and secrets, both the children didn’t know the extend to their limited visit. All their little heads could muster was the idea of trying to escape. Normally, even in captivity the normal human brain thinks about itself. They weren’t exactly thinking about their personal pleasure however, more or so about their freedom and survival in this fiery hell. What they didn’t know would await them there was a game to task their health. “What’s that ahead? “Asked the boy pointing at a strange being. The girl shrugged her shoulders and replied she didn’t know a thing. As they got closer they found out it wasn’t living, nor even threatening, it was somewhat of a robot, bearing the faces of many other folk. Its eyes were rotating, blue, red, yellow, and green, each time they hid, they got a different scheme. It was wearing a turban, and it had a large mustache. What it didn’t lack though, was the enormous size of the coins in its stash. A large jar filled to the brim with coin. Gold and silver worth many a toys. Wearing a purple coat and green trousers, the robot extended his palm and awaited their honors. But neither of them were brining any money with them, they had already spend it all in the upper land. Yet Billy had something different to give in return. Picking a single piece of his last pack of chewing gum, he handed the robot a piece, and that was it. The eyes of the head started rotating again, and once it stopped, it showed emptiness. No color, only white scleras staring plainly at them. The entire thing suddenly collapsed and stopped functioning. It was as if they broke the damn thing. Billy couldn’t help himself; he wanted to give him something. A piece of gum wasn’t worth anything, but it was still a sign he was willing to depart with a part of his possessions, which was the task of this offering. Willingly giving something away in order to stop the being, which was the first obstacle in their hellish stray. One level down and they were continuing their escape. Through the big land with the black sun, they walked exhausted, but still fighting to find their way. -Slaughterhouse- They walked until they faced a big building in the middle of nowhere. Billy and Kailey were equally perplexed. How and when was this made? Who even lived in this place? They were skeptical of entering for it might be a trap or something different, yet still threatening. What could there be? Something evil or maybe another task to hinder them in their dream. Billy pushed the door with no handle and entered the strangely looking maze of different angles. Moreover, mangled up and forcing your brain to hallucinate the different paths. In was like a labyrinth with a different assortment of paintings made of real acts. Kailey saw children being ripped apart my tiny hands. Saw the blood splatter across all walls and then drip down on the floor as they walked in pairs. Billy was leading yet he was way too afraid. Not knowing the truth behind the house of horror made him feel, but he continued either way. There was just no stopping the madness of terror occurring to those kids. Chopped legs were dangling from the hooks that were twisted in different places of the rotating land. Were they even going towards a place or not, they didn’t know. The only thing the girl could see were younglings being tortured and mangled as if they were rabid dogs. “Ahhhh, so you came and so my little feast. This is the room where I punish the kids and then feed the beast. Monster as in I, the one who trapped you here, the “Shadow Man”. This is what will happen when you fail to cease my plans. That is the fate of kids who do not listen who what is being said. The same thing could happen to you two, if you don’t act according to your brains!” – echoed the voice of their trapper, the voice of the scary man. Billy gripped the hand of Kailey and continued, trying to hinder any sort of fear in his self. Closing his eyes, the madness of blood, gore and children screams quickly disappeared, as he gripped a handle of a door he kicked it, opened his eyes, to see all was vanished. Now they were back in the desert of nothing, with the black sun rotting, left to wander yet again in this house of pain. -Level 2- “They escaped the first time, but could they do it again? In this next arrangement of tests, could they actually make it to the end? All questions that cannot be answered right away. We’ll have to follow them on their journey, and see what happens in this sleigh.” The visions and pictures still lingering in their heads, followed them to a platform, that lonely stood ahead. With no one, nothing to be said, they got closer and saw how it worked. It was a trap, in which two people could stand. Stay there for longer than needed, and you will fall down to your death. A red button, telling you it should be pressed. Should it be pressed though, that was the matter to be solved by the two little kids. What was the catch here? Was there something scary underneath this test? Would they fall below and end up like the rest? Billy wanted, but Kailey was afraid. There was something meant to happen, even if they pressed it, or did something different instead. Ultimately, they decided to press it, standing on the platform, together, awaiting the dread. What they felt was a leap down drop, bringing them to a different land. They felt no pain as they descended the soiled tunnel leaping downwards. It was if they entered a new level to the ground, in which they walked upwards. Maybe that was also a mission, like the last one they had. This had to be done together with your friend, leaving no one behind. It was almost the same, but it was covered with red walls. It felt almost like a house…with no soul. They were brought here by fate, to whose fault? Now they had to explore this and try to fight the fright and maybe loose it all! They didn’t know it led to the realm you lose hope! -Nightmare Zone – To the mansion they fell in, it felt the same as before. A ground on which they walk, with something they don’t understand, observing their souls. This house like structure, bearing nothing but walls. Leading towards nowhere, yet still leading up ahead. Billy and Kailey weren’t as keen to explore this however, for it felt like a scam. To where would they travel if they walked upon this path? Up to the core center of hell? Or maybe somewhere where there weren’t scary pictures that would scream from the terror? Both kids started walking, and felt as if their bodies were starting to float. All of a sudden, a blue mist came from underneath the red walls. It wasn’t scary, but it was a bit strange. Why was there something spreading so fast and making this look like it was orchestrated by a ghost? The mist then started shaping, and making itself look like a phantom…perhaps, it was a hoax. The thing then launched at them, screaming desperately, and entering their bodies. They were filled with grief and dread from the passing of that nobody. It was cold and unpleasant, their heads shivered as it was done. Something broke inside them, and their minds finally saw. This fog wasn’t ordinary, this being wasn’t a fraud. It was showing them the very existence of nightmare, and how it was formed. This house of horrors, producing all the dreams; was filled with the mist, that conjured all the nightmares in the world. With tears emerging from the eyes of the girl, she hugged the boy tightly not releasing her hold. He was afraid too, feeling the monsters of his head actually alive, and growling at him as an animal would. The embrace he shared with Kailey however, manifested a light that shone from his eyes. It pushed back the mist, and left the monsters behind. It was reverted to an old red looking broken house. They just had to leave…proving it was all a ruse! Taking her in his arms, they left by knocking out the door and thought the red corridor, they entered yet another task, the third one for the night. -Level 3– Now that they were alone, in this field of no return, Billy and Kailey had just ahead to go. But towards where? In this building of nothing and sand? Of fire, burning from the black hanging sun. “Towards the beam of the everlasting abhorrent spun! Towards me of course, the man behind this trick. Towards to boggy with the boogey, on a great last dance!” – echoed the voice of the shadow man. Billy took a sip of breath, yet coughed for it was heavy and damp, as for Kailey she was afraid of what they were yet to face! The face of the man that trapped them in the first place. Or one of the many, the creature with nothing but nothing. Only a shadow that spreads and covers everything with its something. What they saw however wasn’t exactly a human standing there or a being made of darkness. Right in front of them emerged the being known as literal sadness. It bore red eyes, and piercingly large yellow teeth. However, everything else from his face was covered in mist. Black, foggy, almost invisible to the eye. The boogeyman was there, and now they had to abide. For it was his realm, his rules, his night. “Welcome children to the final test. This shall be the third, and I shall leave you to rest. However, if you fail, I will never cease on your flesh, for it was two times you managed to escape my tricks. For the final task, I shall do this focus-pokus of a spell. Something I know, you wouldn’t be able to tell! – He explained, shifting into nothing, and leaving them to dwell. -What should we do? – asked Kailey looking for some help. Billy only observed as the fog launched at them, grabbed them by their shells. Kailey was enveloped in the misty fingers of the man, so was Billy who screamed and yelped. -Now choose, who should die!? You or the girl. You or the boy. Who will sacrifice himself in order for the other one to escape the gore? Who will be the one from whom I shall feast as a god? Neither of them wanted to let go of the other, but if the shadow man was holding them captive, they didn’t have to bother. Looking at the girl, in her eyes Billy could read love. She was his friend for he wouldn’t sacrifice himself. It was just a moment, but they knew what to say. -I choose to die, so spare him! -I choose to die, so spare her! Resounded the voices of the little kids, blocking the darkness, and lifting the mist. The shadow man being perplexed couldn’t handle the emotion they brought with fineness. The devil grunted and threw them in the ground for they crashed with stress. What was going to happen, they were promised freedom in this last mission of wit and success. -I SHALL DEVOUR YOU NONETHELESS FOR I AM TIRED OF THIS MESS! – growled the shadow beast, and summoned his wicked express. The sky was evolved into a dark pitched nightmare of black non-visible sheet. While the kids were left to find their way in the darkness…and run as fast as they could with their tiny little feet! -The Long Nothing– There were the kids, running for their lives in the darkness. Trying to find their way and escape from this sheet of nothingness. All was pitch-black, and they could not even see where they ran. The ground was shaking as they did, making it harder for the kids, trying to outrun the big dark man. Kailey was harshly breathing as her little feet suddenly gave out. Crashing on the ground, she was bruised, weak and down. With tears coming out of her eyes, she wiped and growled. Her leg was twisted in a different angle that it should normally be. Getting bluer by the moment, the boy grabbed her by her feet. Lifting as much as he could, he continued to run. While behind him, he could feel the laugh of the evil one. “NO ESCAPE AWAITS YOUR KIND! EVERYTHING YOU HAVE IS BROKEN. WHEN I FINALLY CATCH YOU SWINE, I SHALL TORE UP YOUR SPINE AND BREAK IT OPEN!” – resounded the deep growling voice of the black matter chasing the kids. It was almost there…dinging with his large and prickly teeth. The red orbs shone, as the kids gave everything to get away from their gleam. Billy almost tripped, but managed to keep himself up. Kailey wept again because of the pain she herself had brought. With final strengths left in this momentous night, Billy gritted his teeth and felt as his legs shivered and continued to walk…if they were gonna fail…he was gonna be with her until the shadow man leave them apart. The darkness itself couldn’t believe what he saw. Two kids, yet such deep connection they had. Caring one for another, being there for when the one is in pain. The black heart of the boogeyman, actually felt a bit waived. It was a feast for his eyes, but he was probably a heavy monster to theirs. With that in mind, he was going to embrace it…he was the devourer of souls so he was going to take theirs. No more stupid lovey-dovey kids trying to escape! He was going to end their lives and find new members his game. A game of shadows in this deadly cave. Spectacle, to entertain those who were already in the grave! Yes! “YES! YEEEES!” – He screamed with all his might and dread! However, as was his darkness about to cover them and spread….a light shone, and the kids were gone…just like a fart under the blanket. He couldn’t believe it…his prey…was taken away from his hands. Left to think about that…the long nothing continued to last. -Dreameater– There he was. Standing lonely on the dark ground, pondering and positioning he everlasting sensation of having lost. Yes. For the first time ever, the shadow being was tricked. There was no coming back from such a hit. Angry with himself, angry at the kids….angry at the world, he just couldn’t believe the events that had unfold. The power of their love was stronger than he imagined…it took them back and saved them from certain tragic. Not only that though, it left Boogey with the feelings of anger and doubtful strands of thoughts about his magic. Was he the same as he used to be? Was the evil one gone? Toying with his food, giving them chances to escape. That wasn’t the Boogeyman from the old legends. That wasn’t him. He should’ve devoured them the very moment they took a breath in. Not wasting his time on two souls, pure of hatred and filled with emotion. That was the mistake that would ruin his fast and swift motion. How could he predict that outcome though? There wasn’t exactly a written route for him to follow now. The game with the children was his only structured plan. He was imagining that he would be eating them at the same exact time as now…yet, the darkness surrounding him, proved that it wasn’t going to be according to his spawn. “What should I do?” – He asked himself, slowly taking step after step, in the ground where nothing stood. His legs were made of nothing, and nothing made footprints in the soil. A lingering thought then muzzled through his ears and entered the brain, conjuring something vile. What if he goes to earth again…and steal another person’s pain? Decimate their future and ensure his present, for he didn’t want to watch another person become a mere peasant. He would give them such a thing, that the child would love if he received a different present. Boogey then vanished and manifested into a “human” form. His features were grotesque, not bearing are grace…only dread. The house was quiet and all were asleep. He didn’t know the exact time, but it didn’t matter for the spirit. He only wanted the boy, sleeping, tucked in his bed. That was the most delicate part of his hate! Grab him by the throat and squeeze until he was dead. Take out his soul and eat with an appetite of a hungry chef. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s it, give me your resentment, give me your terror and die like a pest!” His words echoed in the eardrums of the adolescent dying in his bed. He was back, the myth…the one who goes in homes and unleashes the screams. The one, capable of eating your dreams. -Freedom?– Volume Final The darkness, the shadow one, the dream eater…the Boogeyman. He wouldn’t cease until everything was diminished, marking it, with a gruesome finish. He wouldn’t give up on his search for the brats that escaped his plan so fluent, the ones who blemished. He took the soul of a child, but that didn’t meant all was forgotten, nothing was finished. He would travel across the world, and seek them out for their future was dim, and he could hardly see it. With the humanoid shape, he traveled through the houses, and made all pay, the people that stood up to his resolve and got to feel their hearts stop beating. Yet even if he ate, he still felt so darn unsatisfied for he was the golden being. He needed to keep on seeking, find their souls, and swallow them whole and forget they existed. He needed them twisted, up inside his belly, where they will never scream, run, or trick him! -I will eat them! – He screamed at the top of his lungs, wanting all to hear him. He needed them to fear him. Wanted them to scream his name. However, nobody escaped his realm before, which made it a just a darn pain. Would he do it again? Trap the innocent, and make a game? Would he resort to murdering them on the spot if they try to escape? What would be the punishment, eh? All questions he asked himself, and no answer did await. -I beg myself, I beg this power. I shall catch those kids, and i will greedily devour. There, will be no sign, there will be no strain. The moment they see me…they will fall and I will have my win! – It said and grinned, for it already foresaw the future. However, the only thing he managed to do, was live long enough for them to mature. Billy and Kailey, were no longer kids, they were adults. Boogey couldn’t believe it; he was destroyed, for he couldn’t taste their wits. What he could do, was watch them and await for the hour that will strike. Watch until their love burns enough, until they have a son. That will be their punishment for escaping his hell. That will be their sentence, to see their child burn and dwell. He would make it real hard, harder than it was on them. He would make this boy, not know what it is to feel loved…make him forget his name. And when his parents, cry out their tears of pain….they will know, that the Boogeyman’s Hell, can’t be escaped. -Trouble- Volume Starter The quill caressed the leather softly, painting, writing...telling the thoughts of the author...making a tale. Yet his memories of what the story should be, faded and casted themselves as obsolete. What was the main going to say? How was the monologue going to portray the act of this final play? All gone and forgotten by the endless sphere of a writer’s block. In a fury of rage, he scribbled the words on this wasted page, covering the written name on the side of it, the poor man, Allyn Cristtoph Pawnofwich. With the thruster of a thousand whips, he threw the mashed leather paper, right inside the garbage bin. "Oh, pity me, lord. For I shall not be able to finish this lore. For the hours, I have sat here, thinking of a way to fulfil this empty lust for creation. Just for me to throw away this nonsense of an abomination." Woe’s, Allyn...looking at the filling garbage, thinking he was the same thing. Either that or to give up, he wasn't going to screw up and waste his time, when he could go there and pick his rhyme and create a masterpiece that will last for the end of times. Something to thrive the minds of the young and aspire them, to be like him. With a newfound ember, he sat down this poorly lot chamber, took his quill and tried to write. Good, but his imagination was not up to this tonight. Not only he could not even think of a starting sentence to this new story, but also even the name of it rather slithered its way out of Allyn’s brain. This right here was trouble, and he was about to make it double, as his anger and frustration got the upper hand from the concentration, making this whole operation, one big deuce of a fail. He threw the quill without a doubt, splashing the wall with ink, and destroying the wallpaper. That was no big deal, none at all. He needed some rest, and maybe then, he could try to write again. For the rest of the night though, he would indulge with wine, and think about the passing time in which he could actually do something, not just waste his spine. Nevertheless, he could not make any progress. Knowing he could not write a thing, he murmured to himself, "Screw this... I quit." -Ideas- That impression that he would stop writing; yeah it was only a fluke. To destroy something he spend years to refine, only to be subjected to stopped by a blackout, would mean he wasn't nearly as good. Hell, it was only the first time it ever happened to him. Either way Allyn was not going to waste his time and rot away. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he grabbed the newspaper and read and read. What kind of bull was going to be today, spread on the pages of this not so brilliant source of informational decay? An artist was revealing a brand new piece of art. A doctor saved a complicated life. The police arrested a burglar mid his escape. An actor was going to portray something in a flick called "Run from Fate". Allyn sigh. Then threw the mashed paper to the ground. There was not even something published, not even a little poem from the big ones. He had to take matters to his own hands and actually do some research. A bit of investigating, so to say, on how to improve his craft and make him better than he is today. Where could he start, what could he do? Walking at the streets could actually prove to be good? It was not half past nine, when his shoes echoed at the paved streets. Allyn did not know where to head, or what to see. He walked around, aimlessly. After probably what felt like eternity, he stumbled upon a burglary. An elder woman was struggling, trying to get away from this rude event of thievery. While the thief was grabbing away her purse and stabbing her with a knife, it did not matter if she was to give her money, or her life. Allyn was shaken, yet he was not so brave. Attacking this man would take courage, though he was afraid. Not risking it, he ran off, escaping from this sight. He was a coward, a coward but alive. Once he came back home, locked all the doors, Allyn took a breath and calmed his world. That was a murder. Right there, on the alleyway to the bakery. What a gruesome fate, yet it was an absolute win. It gave him something to write about and not even think. The quill moved more than ever, he felt like a real deal. Swiftly he wrote the story, and basked it in. "What a tragedy, but to who’s expense. I am happy to be a part of this movement of ink. The pages are gory, gruesome and dark. I have created a masterful piece, for the sake of a life. “ -Muse- The story turned out great. It was well received, and even published on the second page. Allyn was ecstatic! There was no greater deed for him to do. All he wished for, all that he bargained had finally given him the reward he was aiming for the rest of his days. Fame, renown and class. Was there really something greater than that? He did not think so. However, what was next? He could not be more afraid to go on the streets and find another damsel in distress. He did not really want to see more blood, rather than on the sentence. His palms itched though, for something even better, something that will blow away the brains of the readers and tore their faces. "Think, think, think!" He forced his mind. However, the plot of the folk did not really hit the spot. Allyn was yet again arriving right at the start of the writer’s block. This time, he was not going to be agitated to quit, more on the other hand, he was about to travel to somewhere, where he could be properly be equipped. The twelfth echo of the distant bell, signaled the time, which was 10 o' 10. The morgue was still illuminated, which meant he had his opportunity to take a glance. To gather some information about the once who didn't really have a chance. The main sister let him in, after the fact, he told her his name, and his well-considered fame. There was no one in the way, and the sister had gotten away. Now all that was left was for Allyn, was to inspect the dead. There was a corpse left on the table as he entered the room. Covered with a white sheet it was ready to be placed in the coffin, and let it rest and never bloom. Nevertheless, the creator had a different plan. He was about to observe it, and feel it to extend of understanding the process of gore. Grabbing a small scalpel, he made a cut, small enough to not be visible. It felt, disgusting yet it was so amusable. It followed with a stab, as the blade came out all bloodied from the body of the deceased, which was mostly crucial. The mission of Allyn was finally over, and it felt as he had crafted something, unusual. Once his quill touched the papers, his magic did the rest of all. "The knife entered the tissue, piercing the layers of flesh and muscle, breaking the point and tearing the joints. The gushed blood started spraying as the life of her eyes faded out. He stood over the body, looking as the reaper was coming for her soul. It did not hurt him, nor gave him pleasure. It was only for the entertainment, of what comes when a person leaves this world. " -Quill - It was brutal. Yet so darn pretty. It felt so marvelous for Allyn, for his penship was making him witty. He scribbled and scribbled, writing quickly and making everything seem like a riddle. Yeah he got that massive pop in his brilliant and gruesome art, yet it was not enough for him to remained top at the main charts for which was this massive ecstatic rumble of his favorite sound. Crafting, creating, and giving life was the noise he liked most in his everyday background. However, his remainer of the night, he wanted to write, write.... The point of the Quill was dangerously spreading I the dried pages, making the ink sink and create a message. Allyn was not that sort of a person to spare his ink; he wanted to see it colorful, as vivid as his dream. Nevertheless, when the shank broke and bent from the intensity of his grip, it tore the paper, destroying his thoughts he had so gingerly savored. He angrily threw the wooden remainer and stared at his palms. He was turning into some kind of monster, some kind of beast for stories and the awes. Though as the fogs had vanished, he only remained a man. Which was fine, actually just OK. It did not take a freak to create something of such caliber and Forte. It took a mastermind, a genius who could bend the words. Someone who could actually create a wonderful story, inside a broken world. He could not now though, as his Quill was broken. It was perfect of him, that he had a spare if this one had painfully misspoken. Allyn took his spare from the drawer under his desk. And wrote, until he no longer felt happiness, but detest. "Entertainment was good, for his soul, it was a delight. A bright shine in his tortured mind. Something to make him feel sane and might. The man in black wanted nothing more than to be all right. But that couldn't happen if there wasn't blood on his knife." -Inkless- His last sentence was brilliant, and to finish it, he had to end it with a dot. He plunged the quill inside the inkbottle, and figured out there was not even a single drop. How can he write now, without having any sort of material, no back up resort? In this late of an hour, passing seven o' four, he had to go pick something up...from where though? "From the morgue!" There was not exactly ink there, but what could he do when he could not even finish his folk. Go to the mortuary, where there was no single living soul. Grab what he needed, something as a writing tool, and finish his story by the end of noon. Once he got there fast footed and not looking for fun, he ordered the sister to let him in and observe something for the realm of observational spun. Once in, Allyn did not have a clue where to look for his material, his life saving ink. One place had dead folk, while the other organs and different jars of bowels. The penman wanted something to write with, not to see this scum. Well. It did inspire him, but he was not looking for that kind of plan. He was looking for something thick, something that could attach to the paper and create a Life. The source of the story was the ink it was written with, which game him the idea, to write with the most usual thing in horror literature. The final door gave him that access. To the banks and banks of life sustaining juice. Scarlet, some even dark, it looked nice, but it was blood. That was going to be a little messy, but he could work with that. To finish his tale with that method would be a final addition in a massive act. Once he was back and had replaced the ink with blood, he wrote some words that colored the pages in a red-full tact. Some people would like that; some would have a heart attack. "Yet once his thirst for flesh was over, and his knife was covered with the sap, he didn't drink no water, but clenched his appetite with the red and delicious blood of the maiden he killed at the “Greenwood Park”." -Bloody Words- Three weeks passed since Allyn's last masterful act, yet it did not seem to be, another glorious victory. People did not seem to respond the way they did before. It was worrisome, and probably painful. To see your child enter a world and never make it to the center. He worked on that project so many hours and it was not accepted. People red some other bull, while his work was rejected? Nonsense. It was a just a time in which people wanted laughter not mindless killers that butchered pretty faces. Yet Allyn, well he did not really work with comedic expectations. He liked the dark stuff, the cold that make you curl. He liked proving to the world that scary can be funny and adored. However, the publisher of "Weekly Catcher" did not think like that. No, he wanted diversity in his writer’s crafts. Moreover, what if they did not want to be subjected to a discriminating and limitating-working gaff. What if the people actually weren't excited about the laughs? Allyn was going to change it. Make sure there is justice to this messed up fact. He was going to talk his way and rise up to be big and dark. He only had to wait until the sky turned black, for his journey to the print and enter through its back. Find the path to the office and walk among the steps. Look for the main room and enter it distressed. Harry would see him, ask him "what's up? “ Allyn would proceed to throw a knife at his face and laugh like a maniac. He would collect his "ink" and ran off in the night. Once he gets back home, he would write something with his blood and scream, for it is delight! "Since his blood was colder, and he wished for the main attraction at the carnival. He slayed the headmaster and became the main guy to operate the entire ball" -The Image of Death- Allyn was sad. Mad. Ballistic and insane. Quite the strange lad. Hypnotized yet sane. He wrote the story of the carnival make over, yet he could not understand that the rage took over. Going and slaying the publisher of “Weekly Catcher" he was going to be named a torn and gruesome slasher. That actually did not bother him. Not quite one bit. Allyn was set on having the best career spree. If it meant killing him, then so be it. He would even destroy a family, if it meant that someone would later read it. He would paint the picture with literature and construct something that had his heart filled in it. Pawnofwich was the author, but Allyn was the demon. "So be it! Label me all you want but I am still out here wining. And with the next stories I'm gonna kill it!" He screamed at the paper that suspected him of being a villain. He was not. He wanted glory, wanted fame. He did not want dirt on his name. The media only showed the bad side of his brain. Only framed the evil intend and constrain. Allyn was not crazy though. If crazy means being a workhorse. His visions of the future and the images of that frame, were telling him to push ahead and never look back at the heavy force of guilt or shame. It was not shameful for a person to kill another for revenge. It did not make the murdered feel bad for his fallen friend. The quill was only scrubbing an image, depicting death and what it feels to be a man. "And so the leader had fallen, with a knife in his eye and a bleeding broken brain. It was a messy deed, yet helped him feel better and more restrained. It rescued him from this anger, made him feel the need to paint. Therefore, he took his quill and painted, what if feels like to be afraid. " -He, Who Kills for Work- Dilemma. A roadblock. Two different sides that wanted a different career choice. Allyn wanted fame in writing, while his ego wanted blood. One wanted stories, while the other, death and wrath. Fighting visions his blur stopped his bright. Not managing to think straight, he wanted to go there and make someone rot. Nevertheless, how could he, when the entertainment in that was false and dark. Yet his mind was filled with it. Of killing people for his delight. His soul wanted to go out there and murder people in the night. Then paint them in his stories. Make the readers shiver. His brain wanted to create a bloody damn river. His quill trembled but could not produce a single word. The ink he used was now dried off blood. Allyn had to do something or perish in his own home. He had to go there and take someone else's soul. Do he did. He could not wait anymore. He needed that feel. Of hearing the screams of the victims as they see the steel. Of having, their skin entered and their insides tear. By having his knife, destroy the bearer. And once his deed had succumbed the murder. He would go back home and write about the plunder. "She screamed when the knife entered her stomach. However, my laugh was louder and echoed the miss running. As I continued to stab and enter her flesh, her eyes darkened, and left the sesh. The hunger was stronger and I wanted more. Therefore, I took her liver and ate it whole. Once everything was done, I kissed her cheek and left her, gone. " -Creator of Horror- No one could argue that Allyn was broken, though the papers remarked him as 'quite well spoken'. Yes, it was true that his work was outstanding, but the murders that happened were very damn frightening. For a bright fellow to conduct such things, it was terribly despicable the act he felt so mellow. "They were merely victims of this paradise of a story, so they should actually be grateful to me, or at least the tale on the pages of the terror." He said to "Weekly Catcher" and ended this error. True, a problem for him, though his readers were eager. To see the next big thing, and the victim that was to be slithered. Yet, Pawnofwich was not really sure there was going to be something more. He did not really know if he was going to send someone to the morgue. What he knew, was that the police wanted him in jail. That was not the ideal place for a man that wanted reign like hell. Not actually a religion though, but a following. People that actually like the stories and the messages within. Folk that cherish his words and want even more. A cult that is not afraid to kill for a better role. They swore to make the story he ever wrote. During his remaining days, they did some gruesome things…but in the end of all, his maniacs had figured the way of the sword. Allyn grinned at the details they shared, and before he went to prison, he had a new tale. "They loved that whore, but they loved me too. Deciding which to follow was not a surprise impromptu. Having their blades, and the ropes to the bed, they watched her bleed and scheduled their coming troughs’. It was such a painting, such a beautiful truth. They loved me more than fucking this brute. " -Headless Victory- Volume Finale A cult, fame and recognition. What more could Allyn want? Well prison was in action but he still had two days to hang around. Make all sorts of deeds and finish all line of work. What he wished for though, was to create a book. A collection of all his stories, in one place, for all. Not only for the newspaper that is thrown in the lot with everyday’s galore. Pawnofwich sought something to finish this book, one more tale to make it full. His ideas spun around in the head, but most of the time, he needed something to amuse him instead. Make his heart beat faster and his brain turn in his head. Paint something that could shiver the beds of the rest. Make a vicious nightmare to haunt the dreams. Construct a story that can easily defeat. What could be the story though? He had no scheme. His followers were locked away for what they did. He had to use his mind again, without a reference. Allyn had to dive deep inside it and stir a reverence. That proved harder for the man who was out of his way to live. Prison would take away most of his things. Sleep was one thing to be deprived from, so Allyn fell, wanting to dream. In this dream, he was a father. An undertaker for the local village. Having done his work for the day, he headed viscerally tired, walking all tangled, aiming for his wooden home. Before reaching it though, something echoed in the night. It was a wild horse riding though the cemetery court. It was not all a horse though; it had a rider on top. He was dark and covered in blood. The most noticeable feature was the missing head. As the man looked, he saw his own, underneath the riders hand. The rider then prompted the horse to gallop towards him, as the severed head screamed his name. "ALLYYYYN!" - growled the head and made him, feel dread. Once the dream was over. Allyn could not wake up, or stand up from his bed. It was a terrible sight. Yet, the police later found him dead. They found a note too, describing his final words. "He is chasing me. Throughout the woods. I can no longer escape the equestrian, that screaming ghoul. I cannot calm down and I cannot breathe from this hoax. I believe I may die, so I conclude this victory for the Headless ghost." Yaga’s Reign
-Volume Starter- Many a days had passed, since the control had switched to the witch. In addition, many moments passed as the maiden lived in the dark and eerie ditch. Quite a ton of people bowed down to that nasty ugly critch. However, she did not mind, none at all. She needed some time for her plan to take toll. For when it did, the baba’s command should end, for the maiden of the lake it was a priority to stop her evil ways. The people on the other side did not even know they were in midst of a battle plan. That plan was brilliant but it needed more polish, since the grandma was a demon and could sense the freedom in coming. The little Lizzy had to plan it so that, when the people loved her the most, to turn their backs and hit her where it hurts the most. Her grip was tight though, and it needed to be broken. Making the task of the maiden, even heavier than when was spoken. Many minutes did she rehearse it in her mind until it was ready to start this bind? In an everlasting cycle was bound for the ends of life, her terror would not be over, until she had lived and died. Baba Yaga was still kicking though, making her be the silly old dead clown. While she was tearing a horned set of fingers, attached to her human skinned crown. Lizzy’s life was already over, but not the folk’s in her town. That little girl’s motivation was over above in stopping this dark emotional demon borne spawn. Therefore, she had to do anything that she could think of, to break the reign of that evil speaking, black ugly hound. Starting the war for her nation, starting the end of her sinister round. -New Hunters- Even if the small village was "safe" in the eyes of the witch, more newcomers started appearing in the muds of this war. Different color and with one thought in their minds. How can we destroy everything and take over their lands? The old hag tried to lure them into traps with her very own seekers, but failed to cease the kill, making them agitated, ready for more blood spill. Yet the new hunters did not back away from the challenge of overtaking this cursed place. They fought as much as killing many of the living, feeding themselves with the corpses that were still breathing. Even if the granny was evil, this was pure barbaric behavior. From those people, that were once mature and holy. Ruined by the cataclysmic events, in the fourth world battle, made only for the glory. With mechanical weapons on light years ahead of the time, they fell, pushed and turned to something that was not worth as prey. The hunters though, did not falter in their mission to win, so they launched attacks in every single standing inn. Taking as much as deaths that their weapons could take. Breaking the once established "peace" from the old baba. Creating a civil war among the ones that survived the biggest battle. The new hunters dominated and established a third ruling circle of power. -From the Lake- The maiden did not care about who rule in the kingdom of ashes, but wanted to bring justice for the fallen, and brake the rule that established the darkness. It did not matter if they were humans or witches, fighting over who is the best survivor. The forth world battle brought nothing but fighters. Yet the maiden remained resilient over the fact that she wanted to take her revenge and stop the terror caused by the maniac that continued to ravage and bring up the hate. Lizzy wanted peace not this farce they called quiet before war. She wanted to bring the fallen soldiers and end this terror, end this all. However, that was harsh. She could not do it without help from beyond, making her call for the dead, so they could continue marching on. Not in hell, on earth. To change and make everything normal in this world. "So rise my brothers, wake my sisters, and let the Reign of the dead begin. Let's destroy the one that threw our lives in this black hole, and destroy everyone who obeys the demon." She commanded, using all her final strength. It was now or never, as the dead rose from the lake. -Army of Fallen- They all rose from the murky waters, some even from the soil and dirt. All of em had one though in their imaginary head, with a mixture of some brain for desert, but still in vain. Lizzy commanded them all, controlling them as if they were her puppet dolls. Some wore uniforms; some had old and torn clothes. Some looked human, while other did not even resemble a known creature. One had a rifle, while another one a pistol. A knife or an axe, a horned helm or a hood above their heads. All were different races and even species marching on ahead. The maiden was using all she could! Raising the fallen underneath the scary woods. With many people, killed or buried in this land. She was forging an army, ready to obey and kill on command. "March my brothers, run my sisters. Together we shall face the fear that has covered our home and destroyed our systems. With force, we shall take what is ours. Ridding this village from this witch and her nasty powers, was the only thing I told you as I gave you, another life to dwell and take others" Yelled the maiden energetically, as much as her body could produce. It was easy for her to be a leader, as she was once a student of this brute. With her dead army, she was stronger than before. This squad of fallen, was going to change the war for control! -Seeking for Strength- The wood still haunted, filled with hunters that searched for something worth the hunt. Yet the dead man marching killed all, which seemed to be part of the group that did not have a heart. Surviving the battle of the forth world number, they were killing the folk in the village of the witch. That made it harder for the maiden to decide which side of the battle she should collide. Either the hunters or the witches numbers, Lizzy had to fight with one of them is she wanted to win this bound. When her forced entered the field of the hunters, the dead men felt their fear. Horrified and not knowing where to go, they opened fire upon the fallen, trying to push back their battalion, using all the firepower they had. The ones that saw the murders that followed when they felled, felt the dread surrounding the cold and dark filled air. The lines of the fallen were gaining on the living, killing and marching and killing. Lizzy was happy to see them die...knowing that her folk in the village had fallen in this god dammed world. She did not need power, as she had swords and axes. Brains and organs splashed as the dead ran over their corpses...taking the life's of the ones that wanted shelter with force. Destroying the ones seeking for strength in these woods. Cursed Tales -Revolutions- Once that strength was established and the army of fallen destroyed the new hunters, the boundary between battle was enlarged and ready for defense of the dead parade. Lizzy was proud of that, as she had gained the upper hand. To fight the usurper of the village she was ready, straight ahead. Yet the folk remained silly, crazed from the potions of the witch. They acted so weird, seeing their families risen from their graves. One even attacked a warrior with an axe in hand. He did not have a choice but to slice his neck open, and watch as the blood started to spill. One after another, the people of Yaga began to defend. Lizzy had no control over her fiends...seeing as some fell, but most destroyed their midst. She watched as fathers killed their sons. Witnessed the living killing their ones loving friends. She cried tears of sadness, overwhelmed by all that gore, all those screams. Most men fell killed once the battle was in its ending scene. As the Revolutions of both dead and living ended, marked and end to this night. Lizzy had no army of undead, if she wanted to continue her plan to overtake that woman in sight; she had to fight her instead of her small little pack. Seeing as her army turned against what she loved...against what she strived to rebuild...wanted to survive. The maiden misguided in the rebellion of her own pride. Losing not only the army, but also the friends from the other side. Cursed Tales -What is Left! - The new hunters, or the ones that could still form something considered a gang, witnessed the collision between the living and dead. Leaders and officers of the surviving battalion fighting in the fourth world War, wanted shelter, and they found it in this battleground. However, that home they wanted to have fell ill, from the blood of the ones that resided within the village of Yaga. Corpses and skeletons lied, both dead and alive on the ground, rocky and painted in crimson. As they feared the maiden that brought havoc among them, making them victims in this town. The general in the group of men, decided to pick a place with fewer deaths, one that they could call motherland. Their omens would hunt them if they picked this side of this cursed and gruesome wreck of a meeting place. All wanted it, but their forces could not take it. To fight with fallen, they did not have the courage to face them. Bullets did not kill what was once dead...so in the end, they decided to make amends. Marching and leaving, taking all the guns away, they left, with nothing more than they could see…nothing was, what is left. Cursed Tales -Fiends- Left, on this battlefield of grief, were two fighting leaders that wanted nothing more than to fight so they could see what it is like to be finally free. At least Lizzy wanted that! For Yaga she did not know. All those corpses on her side, showed nothing more than miserable and horrid gore. Torn pieces of flesh scared and mutilated carcasses of once living villagers that fought for their home. Yaga was reckless in starting this fight, but so was the maiden that marched straight at her army of normal humans...marched to obliterate what was left of her party. If you thought about their actions, they bought looked like horrible icons, standing on a platform and commanding the low ones. However, in actuality they were vicious heroes waging war for land they wanted, land that one of them had to right to have, and right to lead! That's didn't justice the means for both of them to still act like that. Massacring nearly all, ruling over what the leftovers from the whole. Both taking the toll of letting their people die for a cursed land overall. Painting themselves like the demons, they were. Proving that no one was right, especially those Fiends in this night. Cursed Tales -The Fall of Yaga- "You died, yet still remain here just to oppose my regime of undisputed control!" Yelled the creature, gruesome horrifying and viciously mad, low, old. "I stay here only to fight against the usurper that you are...i fight for my people you butchered without a blink of an eye." Shouted back the maiden enslaved in her pit of water, made to waste in an everlasting gory maze of corpses. Both left in a draw in their fight to regain what they both thought was right. The two women did not want to leave this ground, until one, has been struck and buried underground. With all she could muster to summon, the maiden of the lake used her powers, burning her burdens, allowing her to cast herself a single last attempt to overpower that damn wretched old hag of hell. Yaga did the same. Unleashing a force to clash with hers, colliding two forces capable of annihilating an army, a herd. Lizzy's beam of strength was blue while the granny's was crimson. Both shined differently as if created inside a prism. Rotating and twisting at one another trying to push back the chain and break each other's links...they went beyond their limits so they can finally win. Lizzy's mind filled with memories of her mother, brother and fellow villagers; could explode of overwhelming sadness. She used that fear and converted it into darkness. Their chain of battling beams still wrestling each other gave up from the weight of another. Dark ornaments and lighting followed, pushing back the granny and destroying the link for good to follow. With that, the maiden put an end to her vicious terror, killing that awful hollow. Yaga's fall came from the hand of Liz the survivor of all the battles. With the granny that shall never wake up, as her body obliterated, purged, killed, slathered by the maidens power, for her to be casted away…in the shadows. Cursed Tales VOLUME 4 FINAL. -Rest for All- The time had come and all was ready. The battle won, with the maiden steady. No more gore would follow on this village without people...yet; no more havoc would destroy it, because there was no more evil. Liz was no more a little girl wanting vengeance, she was a woman, grown, seen what war between people can do. However, a ghost as well, she could not feel the pain as much as the real people. Seeing the lying corpses on the ground, torn, rattled and lifeless, she could not understand why it had to be like this. Why did the darkness always find its way, towards the weakest? Why did the mad ones, always ruled over the mindless? There had to be an explanation to this, some kind of repercussions for the misguided. When there was not, she brought justice with the already fallen. That did not bring the ones who died in the previous encounters. Could not even bring back her dead beloved brother. Yet, she was somewhat relieved to be the one left standing. She defeated the evil one, and right now was beginning her ascending. To hell or to paradise it did not matter. For her, the only thing that was important was her winning the final battle. It was true that her emotions took over, bringing negativity in the picture, but for her to win, it was inevitable for her to dive in in the dark, so she could liberate the people from that hellish creature. Therefore, as she floated toward the sky seeing the village from above. She wished for all who remained alive to be happy, to live to see and breathe. Liz smiled and asked them for eternal peace. Seeing them emerge from their barracks and broken homes could not bring her more relief. From now on, she was going to reunite with her brother, and forever rest, and be able to, finally sleep. -The Odd House- Volume 3 Starter Nobody saw where it came from, but once they opened their eyes in the morning they saw this strange house; parked in front of their homes and their main yards, it was spreading like it was a castle made of strange parts. It reached the sky, it was so damn high, with its chicken legs supporting the whole house; it reached nearly a full mile, spreading and overseeing the whole town. Yet the folk remained kind of involved, they wanted more, more info; about this peculiar looking home front, that had come from somewhere they didn’t know of. And just when they didn’t think they would see fit, a door opened and revealed the secrets, of an old lady in a dark dress, smiling widely and waving at her new friends. Nobody would ever guess it, but this town was known to be filled with strangeness, and this right here wasn’t so harmless, yet the people didn’t know it just yet. Until the deaths came they were living there feeling safe, not knowing that this world is filled with demons, and the biggest one is in their village, ready to take control of all the kids, spreading legends and folks for the ages…with her name all would be scared, with the legend of the grand stress. But as I said, there was mercy. For the start of this tale this foe searched for families, with hope and joy in their bellies. With the intention of taking it all for her own needs. Starting the legend of the bad granny! -Granny- Yaga was her name, or so she said. Greeting with everyone, she shook their hands. Smiling to the faces of the people she was meant to torment; she masked her emotions and hid her true self. But that was right according to plan. She didn’t want to spoil herself and not have any fun. To hide her true intention was right and sound, but the granny had a different kid on solution to her mysterious spawn. “I shall be your healer, help with all your sick…I can be the person known to be the doctor in this little village”, she exclaimed to the shocked out crowd. And that was again, right as she had planned, to name herself one, who helps, instead of harms. With her white strain hair, and wrinkled to the bones face, she fit the role of a healer in this awfully cursed place. Her robes that were once considered a dress, were torn, making her look kind of crazy, but the folk remained amazed, not turning away their gaze at the woman that had appeared from a house, literally standing on two chicken legs. Some nodded, some remained a little stressed, but overall, all needed this kind of person to take care of their needs. That itself was the very first mistake, but the folk weren’t that kind of lit to know what was better for their place. So with open arms, they welcomed the granny to the village of “Little Grace”, and marked themselves to be the ones, to bear the sigil of death. -Missing Folk- Time did pass, and the people did learn to know the healer in the face of Yaga, but none did dare to look directly at her, seeing as she wasn’t that pleasantly altered. With her nose being somehow differently plastered and grossly twisted in a spectacular matter. That didn’t really bother many though, since she did her job well. Tending to the sick, and helping those who had injuries as well. Who would say she wasn’t doing her job professionally, she did indeed care. What was kind of peculiar being the fact, that when she arrived, some vanished in thin air. Were there hunters or house maids it didn’t matter, they were gone from this earth, gone, leaving away their families to suffer. But the old baba didn’t leave the ones left behind to be hungry, and each day she gave them supper. Even taking care of their sweet little puppers. The thing was, surviving in this village, without hunters to provide some fresh meat was actually a difficult battle. Good thing the granny was here or the village would continue to fall apart, disintegrate into nothing. Putting faint smiles into the people was still considered a good deed in the book of the holy mother. Still, the missing folk were missed, but more soon appeared to be swallowed in the mist. One by one, day by day, it was kind of scary to be living in this old town, where the only people fighting were taken away by something lurking in this godforsaken cursed place. -Cure- The missing never returned, leaving this town, forever leaving this world. Making so that the folk starve out from hunger and thirst and perish alone. Die in this hole where no one even knows what's left out of the good. Except one. The granny living in a chicken home way above in the clouds. She knew there was an option for them to blossom again, a chance for them to be the ones they used to be, thrilled and excited, human spawns. With the idea on her back, she weighted her arms with the plan to stop all and prevent the miss happenings in this great town. Gathering herbs and collecting the "ingredients" for the potion, or as she preferred, the "cure “; Yaga started brewing the liquid that was gonna save their little world. And little by little, day by day, the mixture in the pot started changing its smell and transforming the color of what used to be gray. It soon turned yellow, and finally golden; as for the fragrance it smelled so good it was nearly godly. And with that elixir, she would cure the village from the vile and mysterious cycle that it was living in. Cleanse all the folk and restart their luck along with the mindset in which they were thinking with. They only needed to drink from it and everything was going to be perfectly fine and fit. -Sacrifice- But it wasn’t perfect, nor did it come any close to being done. People didn’t get cleansed from the bad luck, in fact it got worse. All started to panic when the hunters got fewer and started getting lost in the woods…all were terrified they would starve in their little neighborhood of dust. But old Yaga had a different plan for this cult. She had an idea in mind that could spark a fight, but end this fright. Would someone dare to offer themselves to the woods, willingly, and say farewell to all that they seem to love, they would put an end to these fantastic kidnappings and stop this, for good. The problem though, was that there weren’t many that were in need to die for the folk’s desire, so they only seemed fit, that they should hold a testing trial. And so, many a days passed, and they finally picked their chosen, the one that was going to be offered to the woods, in return for their forgotten. With the granny in front of the pyre, they were ready to ignite the fire, and once and for all get rid of the magic that had taken all the hunters from this old and broken, dusty shire. As the flames erupted on this poor soul, once dreaming of being a squire, his flesh started melting in an undesirable black color. But as the screams finally diminished and all were left speechless in the square, granny Yaga was smiling, for she had gotten rid of this “mysterious fiend” hiding in this twisted fairy tale. -Recruits- After the offering to the woods ended, so did the vanishings stop. Many days went on without someone catching themselves in a cruel and vicious trap. And so the little village survived yet another age of fear along its tinny little gap. When that passed though, something different occurred, a battle between nations who shared this big and wholesome world. With different leaders clashing against different ideals, they started a war to end it all. With that being said, many of the lads in the village had to go against their wishes, to fight for their stead. Fathers, sons even some maidens went to fight the collision, leaving only the mothers the elders and children in the lines to fear for a peaceful vision. In those times, old Baba Yaga planed a secret, that no one had to know. Now that the men in town were gone, she could take over and…eat them all. But first, she still needed to keep the masquerade of her being a healer, so she made the plan to call two young students to cover her idea. With the first being a boy, aged nine, along with a little girl three years younger, with her face covered in a big smile. “Granny is going to teach you two how to make a wound small!” She exclaimed to poor Little Lizzy and Peter, that didn’t even know what was going to go down. -Clone- The recruits did marvelous, helping the village rise in the time of end. With little Peter and Lizzy, doing all their little bodies can. Grandma Yaga was teaching then the art to produce life, and make so that an ill man rises and becomes strong and alive. Yet, she felt that the boy didn't really care about all those things. It was like his mind was set on a different string. And what could that even be? Perhaps annoyance of doing the same old thing? Forced by the widowed mother, tasked with the mission to gather water for them to drink, he and little Lizzy had to carry those gallons from the woods to the old village. And that wasn’t easy, oh no it wasn't. Which was why Peter didn't like doing this heavy crushing. So what could she do to help this little boy? Maybe makes so that he can help and learn at the same time? Oh yes, that was a brilliant idea. Furthermore, Yaga wanted to make things a little bitter. That was her intention from the start of course, but right now, everything was going right in course. Telling Lizzy to go and play she brought Peter and made him stay. Using her abracadabra’s and sim sala bims, she managed to create a second, sane living being. Exactly the same, yet different in their mind. The two Peter's were gonna wreak havoc among the peaceful times. -Mission- Two identical faces and two different souls. Now that they were split, she could control them both. With Peter 1 being good and 2 evil, her idea was set in motion, ending with her being the hero. But that was still in the future, and she had to focus on the now, going to the evil one, she whispered her plan. “-You will follow the weak one, and seek his sister. Once she is lost you will make sure that nobody else sees you. You will kill her, and throw her in the small lake in the deep woods, forever for her soul to be trapped in the unknown abysmal floods. With the weak one, your brother, you shall do nothing. Not until I make him remember that he didn't do anything to prevent this from happening. Not until he is old, and clueless as now. Your only task is to eliminate the female child. So go my son, I will turn you into a thrilling killer, vicious and bigger. While I await the folk to scream in terror, only for my shining resolution to help them see clearer.” -The Hunt – The forest was thick and narrow, so slick and filled with terrors, with the biggest one of them roaming like a beast. With a mission on his back, he ran so fast, brushing through the fog of leaves that splashed his claws, chasing down the two of the siblings searching for water in the lake. The second project from two, was doing his job and ditched the little girl. Now the fiend was able to go to her and snatch her little neck. It didn’t take long to find her, as she was filling the bottles, trying to deliver on her promise, which was to bring water for her mom. The lake was quiet but it was startled by the demon, so much so, that it turned red. The little Liz could barely see, nor think or scream, but she saw that terrific face. And that was all, as his claws scratched her neck and penetrated everything instead, his eyes expanded with a crazy gaze, wanting nothing more than to snap her neck. With the terror in her poor little eyes, she vanished not knowing the man that is taking her life, and fell as the waves of the lake, devouring her light. Creating a tragedy, that was only an act. -Puppets- [Volume Final They were locked in their homes with nothing new. While the witch in the chicken house had so many different potions to brew. So did she do. With a spoon filled with sticky goo. Baba Yaga wanted to make a liquid that would make all love her too. Not that they didn't before. She just wanted them to like her even more. With no turnovers and lies, the old woman wanted soldiers! No! Servants to work their lives for her fake dark masquerade. A small group of losers, willing to follow in her twisted ways. With no one to tell them, that she wants to eat them whole. That was her reason, her appetite was above them all. And they all follow blindly, like pigs for slaughter in this fun house of gore. Making them into puppets, that she could munch for dinner, and enjoy her overall stay in this ill resort. But one person, or, perhaps ghost, had different plans for her plan to take control of the folk, now that she was free to roam forevermore. With the blood of her brother on her hands, everything puppeteer-ed from the backstage of Yaga's brains, Lizzy planned to start a revolution, and Purge the witch that killed her and everything in range. But for that to happen she should, MUST. Try and regain the consciousness of the mass, and maybe someday, when they are sane, expose this critch for the darkness she had brought. But that was in the future, for it, had to wait. But the maiden wasn’t hasty, dreaming of stopping this gruesome nasty, wicked and horrific bitch. So she stood, and observed as the people fell to this; absurd - and thought of wanting nothing more than revenge of this old cursed evil piece of shit. -The Legend- -Volume II Starter Short- To start of this story, we must go back. Back, in times when all seemed gray-ish and black. To a moment of their lives where peace was something common. To a point in the time-line where all seemed hollow. To the beginning, of the horror. There! In the small village, in a smaller house, lived a tiny family, yet free. A mother, son and a little daughter at the age of three. They weren't happy, nor miserable, in fact, they were quite comfortable, living in this peaceful parts. Although, the father of the children, had to tore the family apart. But that itself was understandable, during those dark aged times of War, that was going on. He left them to fight! And never survived the first attacks. Leaving the mother with two children alone... Alone, living barely, being skin and bone. It was hard for them to survive, when they didn't have the needs to feed themselves. No food nor ingredients to make the easiest soup. Nothing. There was only water that was supplying those poor friends. Food or not though, they had to go on living, and going to the small lake down the road in the forest, was their objective, early in the morning and during the chilly evening. The boy and girl, went there each day, bringing two buckets filled with murky waters, not really fresh, but drinkable and so on. But one day, the boy grew tired of drinking this filthy rubbish they called h2o, and decided to not take place in retrieving the water. His mother insisted, so he went there with his sister, only three years younger than him. Though agitated and angry, he didn't pay attention to her...leaving her alone in the woods, as she didn't know her way back, that good yet. The little Lizzy, stayed by the edge of the lake and wondered where her brother went. He didn't show up to take her home...he didn't even care about the waters, he wanted to be alone. But that foolishness and stubbornness brought upon the tragedy that fell on the little girl. She was so scared, as the sun hid behind the mountains, covering the world in shadow, pure darkness from which she couldn't hide from. Being younger she was exposed to the fear of the animals, and beasts, lurking in the black might of the forest. But she wasn't expecting her own brother to show up, holding a fallen branch. Happiness covered her entire body from limb to limb, but that was over in the instance, she saw what was truly over there. It wasn't her brother; it wasn't even human to begin with... Maybe a beast in the forests deeper shadows? No one knew what was it! Nor did she see it... But they found her body in the bank of the lake, disfigured and faceless. Thus, birthing a legend, of the shadows in the lake of visions. -Victims- Once the legend was out, many began to wonder what you see in that forest of never ending fog, and they tried to see, enter it without fear. Though, the ones that managed to survive the attack, would be left forever petrified with horror and disdain, to not be broken, ever again. There were some cases of innocent children, drowning in the lake, without a clear sign how it happened. How indeed did this vanishing occur? Maybe a sea creature was grabbing them whole? Or maybe they themselves jump in the brown waters? Anything could be it, but for the parents, lost either a boy or a girl, it didn't really matter that they could figure out why they were gone. It was the fact that they could no longer see their faces again that struck harder than anything they could face. But the thing, beast, creature animal or whatever it was, didn't care about the mother's tears. It only wanted itself, to be pleased and relieved from the hunger it had, for so many, many days. No mother or father could ruin its craze, in fact, bring it on, it would eat them too, as well as their kids. Go there and tell it to stop being such a fiend. Because that's exactly as it was. It would destroy anything, entering the gust of the forest and the shore of the lake. Nothing, nor child or animal could escape from its grip. Falling victim, to the beast, in the shallows deep within. -Inside its Chamber- Through the muddy, nearly bearable to breathe water, beneath all the damn weeds stuck in its waves, lived the legendary beast, torturing the village. Although, those thick rumors, spread around those who believed there to be living dread, were false, gray-ish and blank. Just like the actual resident of the lake, whose name was...blanked. Forgotten, never to be seen or heard again, in the abyssal word that was the savagery village, painted with nothing, nothing but hatred and fear for it, the beast, not actually a threat. Only a martyr, carrying the burden of being the hated one, for someone else's sake. But that was it her own fault... The maiden in the lake. That's how she saw herself, even if no one else did. She was there, a vision or a ghost in a deadly shape. Only a fog for some, and a witch for the rest. Although, she wasn't that popular, for the others, taller and older than the children. It was only because the gossips said she killed and tortured the weak... But yet again, all was as false as everything she believed in, growing up as the child to a single mother with two kids. Yes, that was her, the Lizzy from before. Not like then though, her face was different. All wrinkled and depressed, contorted and oppressed to reserve itself in a filthy lake, just because a weird man decided it was fate, to grab her and choke her, to her untimely and premature...death. What was her fault in this tale? The answer is she didn't have one. But payed for everything, by withering away in the sink of the waters bed. Watching as the kids, falling one by one, strangled by the same one, that brought her corpse to the edge of the coastline as well. Her only wish was to find out, who was responsible for her end. -Through her eyes- Even if she was peaceful towards the folks, and bore a grudge for the one responsible for the end of her life, no one knew her, as a sweat or innocent kind. That itself was un-provable, as the kids never stopped falling inside the puddle of dirt, also called a lake. Keeping the legend of the maiden, true and un-forgetful, for all sake. No one asked her, how she felt though... No one knew the real reason, which to her even, was unknown... Although suspected, yet fogged in a cloak, that was gonna uncover soon. Still, it made her feel like trash... Floating in the ashes of the others, killed and thrown in a different soaring mire of this scourge, in a world, where all blame the things that scorned and turned the peaceful life into gore. Yet the maiden felt the guilt of a monster, always being treated like a wicked tearing thrasher. Killing and then eating the rotting corpses smelling of mold. Yet they didn't even know, she died there, very long ago. When they remembered her by the name, given to her by the mother, that lost it all. Except one child, that continued living on... without the sister he abandoned and left to rot in the waters they drank before. The sister now grown, her ghost at least... Floating in the shallows... Awaiting the arrival of the murderer, just to find out more. Just to see... Through the eyes of the lakes whore, as described in the villages wicked lore. Everything is clouded in this, god forsaken, filthy shore…All of this seems like a bore, to the rest of the choir. All those watching from the spires…out of spite don’t even bother to do something against the killings…happening right in front of the monster, blamed to have done all…innocent in truth…badmouthed through each and every town route. -Hunters in the Woods- Folks and legends, fables and tales. All wicked rumors about the maiden residing beneath all wells. No matter if it's false...all believed in them. Turning the curse into a real problem...a horrible nightmare. Some looked creeped, the others scared. There were even ones that didn't understand the risk of those tales. Folk locked their homes, villagers guarded their own...but in the end all united, protected their own lore. There were those of course, who pleaded to be highly compensated, in the mission of retrieving the maidens head. But return to the town headless and very much dead. All believed it was the ghost residing at the lake. All though the waters they drank, were poisoned as well. There was no such thing as I promised. No ghost...no beast...only a lonely girl, who lost its own life, trying to get water for her beloved. There was something terrible instead. That took the lives of children...adults, everything else. But the people did not now that, and let their imagination run wild and fast and create such wicked lies that no one knew the original act. It was easier that way. Who would agree that the forest, leading to the lake...is really actually... possibly, safe? None. That's why they hired hunters, to walk around in scheduled turns...guarding all life and doing an amazing job...solely for the villages sake. In if someone claimed to have witnessed the maiden in all her pure and agonizing shape...dividing the waters in the lake...destroying life around this place...tormenting the animals, taking away all grace. They were making those stories up, in an attempt to get more money for the protection of the town, stuffed with idiots that didn't know, one and one. Giving their only pay...for something so much in vain. For the fakes to drink all day. So the maiden can watch they hunt her as prey. So that no one could live, knowing they're completely safe. -The other sibling- While the cursed village remained cloaked in a mystery that no one actually understood, stood a boy in a different town, all grown up and new. He had studied and worked, all his life, without knowing that happened to his sister, that drowned in that water, muddy and dark. That didn't stop him though, he was a happy chap, that didn't bother to be bad, at all. Everyone knew him as the smiling Peter. Always cheerful, the party starter. His years in school were covered with joy, but still, the dark thoughts remained, rooted in the village’s dreadful story. Outside, with friends and mates, he was one. At home, alone, with no lights illuminating the dorm, he would sit down, and relive the horror. The very core of understanding your little Lizzy, was no longer busy, with retrieving water for the mother that cared for you, was more than enough to wreck your stuff, and traumatize you badly, for the rest of your life. But Peter knew. There was something afoot in the forest, so cold and honest, that the animals feared it and stayed away. He didn't believe the tales, of the maiden, that killed the kids, it was rubbish and glimmered with false news from the rumors that all the town drunks, blabbering in their sleep. But the now young man knew...there was something evil lurking there, sure, and that was so fairy tale... It was true. He as well as his perished sister, wanted to understand what happened that day, and see the man, that murdered the maiden of the lake, and solve the mystery of the decade. Until then though, he had to finish school, visit his mother’s hood... And mourn for his little sister too. -Journey Towards Mystery- With the years that passed the dread of the unknown followed. Peter grew tired of hunting the rumors that ended up being hollow. Yet the folks didn't stop spreading those deathly hallows. Guiding fellers to their demise, drowning in those muddy seemingly shallow, but deep and scary waters. None could stop them from cursing and spitting on the maiden, that had nothing to do with the legend of the lake. Only her brother wanted to change something, convince the villagers its fake... Just for her, Lizzy's untimely sake. Even when he came back, he wished and pleaded for them to stop sending hunters to their bad fates. Nobody listened, angered with the rumors, folklore and legends that seemed real... seemed like a good idea to take. No one knew though... It was false, unrealistic and a shaded farce. That was enough to make the grown up boy mad. Not letting him go there, explore, make up his mind. All wanted justice for their fallen child. But didn't have the resolve to change this paradoxical cycle of renown, nor distract the future's spawn. All wanted peace, built on the bones of the fallen. The people wanted harmony, but didn't have the will to keep up with the calamities of the dark matter. That's why Peter sought out to find the truth behind this fraud. Make sure, his sister didn't die because of this fogged cloud. Making him take on the path...leading to mystery itself in this cursed journey to hell. -Visions- Avoiding all those things surrounding him, he was torn in passing by, the woods so fly, that he didn't see, the enemy, hiding behind all those trees... Peter wanted to continue, guiding his way to the fallen maiden. What he didn't know, deep inside in the unknown, were the voices that scared all living and showed themselves as shadow demons. Illusion and phantasmagoric scenes illuminated his way so slick and obscene. But he didn't even need, the whisper that would speak and plead him to step in the muddy puddle that was suspiciously so clean. Peter wasn't that keen, to enter the abyss and drown in the sand pit, that the visions made for him. So his way, blocked with vicious traps, build to make this boy tap-out, had to split, creating to new ways, in which the man couldn't walk away. He didn't though, determined and strong, with a vigorous grip of valor, he would continue and push, passing the hollows of trees and empty logs, cut down stumps. Making way to the lake, in which his little Liz would lay. Nearly there the Visions wouldn't dare, to come and show the boy a bore, because he already knew, the rumors of the ghosts were false. Though Pete felt, the eyes of someone else... locking his back, sending shivers and descend, into a terrifying state, he wouldn't dare escape. The boy would still march on, feeling the gaze in his bones, continuing further in the forest of death and murder. Trying to find the one who truly wounded the hearts of all the folk. Would he find him or witness something behind him...was up to the boy himself? -One More Push- And so he did go. Ahead in the dark, twisty and foggy road, Peter would follow his instinct that was brave and bold. Looking behind, every other time, trying to check if there was a demon, following his tracks and arming its claws, he would walk further and further, into a place, he didn’t know at all. No such thing was there though, only shadows...merely creatures created from the mind, only visions of things from forgotten times. There was no physical danger in the woods that could harm Pete. Only the man, with a black, messed with blood hoodie, that he couldn't see. That same man was following him, right behind his heels. Trying to get the right opportunity to slice up his knees. But the young one was brave enough to not think about the dread. Only positivity would save him now, since he wasn't already dead. And the hooded figure didn't like that. He wanted to rip his ribs and make him beg to continue conjuring his eyes out. He wished he could've gotten him when he first met the little man and then eat his brain out. Instead, he killed his sister, turning her into an old man's tale. But he wanted the pair of siblings to lie in the lair of the lake...he wanted both their hearts to cease in his dirty strong hands. That's why the creeper would slither through trees thick and somewhat slicker, tracking him down, exposing his valor, waiting as the man would enter his pit. Peter didn’t know that, he didn't care about something that could eventually be a scare. But the mysterious man did, and wanted nothing more than to see, the young one bleed, be afraid of the unknown out there. So just like that, case with his sister was going to repeat in a beautiful dare. Just one more step, one more stretch, just a little push... And he would become another soul, lost in the woods. -Revealed Truth- Volume 2 Final Short Just as the boy was about to enter the chamber of the fallen maiden, awoke Lizzy from her everlasting slumber and faced him, just as his feet touched the edges of the shore. Her eyes widened, but not from anger, might it be hatred or just plain stuttering rapture...or maybe because of the surprise of seeing her blood. Peter though, afraid of the vision, the plain and white sheet that was the maiden floating in the abysmal lake, didn't manage to hide his emotions and shatter a little squeak he didn't mean to scream. Who wouldn't though? Seeing the floating thing...ghost of a girl, that drowned there, wearing a torn gown. Peter had every right to be scared like a wimp. Yet, as he further observed, the maiden didn’t look like the legends described her. Peter figured, only to himself, that she could've been beautiful, if she wasn’t already dead. The maiden, wanting to see him better, recognizing him, as if it was a rainy weather, got closer to him, getting up from the waters, muddy and Grim. The brother, kind of curious but afraid non the other, swallowed the lump in the throat that was sticking, such a bother and managed to withstand the need to run. He wanted to gaze into her too, the finally found sibling, white and transparent as the waters she emerged from. Just as the maiden got to him, staring at the eyes of the older sibling, she extended her hand, wanting to remember him. Peter was seeing Lizz, and didn't believe anything of this. It was just an illusion, like a phantasmagoric tale of green-ish wish. Full of dread and wanting nothing more than to escape the dead, the young man rose his shaking hand, and extended it, trying to reach his deceased little friend. But...nature didn't work that at all. All was twisted! All was gore. As his hand was reaching for the ghost, another one, big and strong, emerged from the fog. It was massive, huge and beastly. His grip was like a vice, as it started twisting. Peter released a yell that made the maiden scream as well. His hand broke and stopped at an angle, so unnatural and gruesome, making the attacker, rise with a hellish and evil laugh. A second hand emerged, and revealed the man, stunning once again both of the siblings at hand. It was Peter, or was him? A doppelganger that looked awful a lot like him. A clone or maybe a different kind of being. Something which came, with the intention to cause grief. What happened was the opposite. It unlocked a memory that was hidden away, stored and forgotten. Lizzy remember him, as he was the one that murdered her without moving away his eyes in their sockets. He was the one that carried away the mission of splitting away dozens. He, the one that looked like her brother. The one that was now snapping his neck, like an autumn leaf, fallen from the branches of a tree. The boy’s body went limp, and broken. His life was taken away from him. The evil-doer was grinning like he had done something spectacular. What he did was make the maiden even more mad with her. She was there watching as her brother went soo numb. Without thinking, without any worries, she furiously stabbed her hand into the hunters’ chest, piercing his heart, from which erupted blood. With whited out eyes he stared her down, until his face was filled with demise. Yet, even though that phase, he still smiled out of spite. His body shrunk, and transformed, revealing him to be that young and miserable boy. The body of Peter, evaporated like a coal in a cold rain. Leaving the maiden alone, wickedly hurt...in pain. Who was who? What happened to her and her brother? Something sinister, perhaps the hands of another. Lizzy stood there, with the blood of her sibling painting her with velvet stains. With tears, falling from her ghostly eyes, she cried, not knowing what reality was this. The Truth indeed was that...all was Cursed from the beginning of this shit. Cursed Tales
-In the new Mansion- Volume Starter Short As every family, this one decided to switch their house. So in a hunt they were until they found the right one. Moving in and developing it inside, the family had a place under to hide. The father and mother bared an only child. A girl, a young one, curious to find the world in this new house. The place itself is covered with different and interesting locations, making the journey she set upon herself a worthy invention. Her journey was just beginning, and the curse that was on this house was yet to be discovered. What lied in her very own room was the thing that could bring chaos to any living human. It was a mirror, filled with mysteries and horror. But for her to discovered it's full chaotic and horrifying powers, she had to look through the sorrow. That wasn’t a thing to happen in the coming days though, only because, in was her first day, living in this household. Cursed Tales -Dusty Glass- And so, her set up adventure was finally here. With a new mansion, with a new whole area to explore. The little girl, Nelly, wanted nothing more. One day, when the house was empty, and no single soul was around to entertain her wild force, she decided to stay in her room and play her dolls. “Oh what a boring afternoon, don’t you agree Ms. Ols? “ She asked in a voice pretending to be of a teenager, while holding a little make up toy, with a wig, and pretty clothes. The doll, nodded her head, and by doing so, her wig fell, and got messed up on the floor. “Now look what you did, you dirtied your prettiest wig!” Exclaimed the child and quickly picked it up from the carpeted ground. With a swift move she headed to her bathroom, where a bathtub lay, with a sink right next to the toilet stool. Nelly, turned the tap with stream-y cold water, and began washing the dolls, dirty cluster. Her eyes were locked onto the splashy and refreshing bubbles of the shampoo, that she didn’t see her reflection, staring her from, what seemed to be another room. Once the gaze was felt, she looked up…and, saw herself, in the mirror that she didn’t even notice yet. He blonde hair was perfectly combed, while her green-ish eyes, looked like freshly trimmed grass. Her lips moved, and the edges formed into a smile, and she soon realized she wasn’t the one that was making that gesture with her mouth. The already washed hair of the doll, slipped from her little fingers and splashed into the bowl in the sink. But when she looked up again, her reflection was no longer present. In its place, laid a thick layer of dust. What frighten her more, were the shapes written, by finger, saying: “Welcome home, at last. “ Cursed Tales -Strange Mysteries- A week passed, and all seems fine. The little Nelly remained silent about the mirror in her room. Her parents didn't seem to see her act strangely or out of place, all was normal, or so the fiend reflected it to be. But when the hours struck midnight, while all were asleep, the house or... Mirrors went live and acted as live beings. Creating interesting shapes and outrages scenes, that casted out light, for no one to see. Though one night, the little young girl was thirsty for some water, and left her room to seek some into the kitchen quarters. That's when she witnessed the strange lightning creatures, entering and leaving the mirrors all around the mansion. It was at first frightening, though a sight not to miss. At least, that was what she though, the little bliss. So many sparkling light bodies, dancing around the halls and stairways, big enough to be considered an abyss. With that being on, she continued walking towards the kitchen door. Though as she entered it, she faced yet another mirror, one, darker than before. From there she stared at herself, stared at the fiend controlling everything. But that couldn't be her? Or was it. This twisted image that identified itself as a result of a horrible accident. Nelly looked scared now, looking at her disfigured self. It was like something had chained her to the ground, not letting her escape. "You are mine, as I am yours. Together she was restore, this world, to its fullest force!" Growled the being from the glass and edged up its lips into a disturbing grin. Now the girl had to feel something from within. Though as she took a step towards the mirror, the lights in the room flickered in. In came the house maid, holding out a candelabra and wearing a sleeping gown. "Nelly, why are you so late up! At this time of hour?" She explained and the maid nodded. Once she drank the glass she offered her, Nelly took off to her bed and laid on it. The face of that being that was representing hers, it was wicked and horrible... A curse. It was a strange mystery, she had to intersperse. Cursed Tales -Hidden Past- Nelly was still happy. Even when the strange shapes that were roaming the darkness, scared her pretty much. All these vicious Nightmares were giving her the creeps, but not as much as the mirror, silently sleeping and acting ill. But days passed and all seems to have come back to normal, so harmonic that the little girl saw it as a little boring. That's when she decided to go a have a read, in the old dusty library. In the top floors of the house, where it was cold, and almost fully dark. She climbed way up the top, and reached the doors, that were old and never touched. As she entered, the possibilities quickly became confusing. Opening book after book until she found something amusing. Oh, she wasn't gonna read something not worth or time consuming. Through all the shelves and all the columns, there stood one book that looked different that the others. It was whiter and was shining in the poorly lit room. She just had to pull on its cover to see it bloom. Opening it, the leaves of paper quickly started shuffling around. Nelly thought it was some kind of trick, but there wasn't a mechanism or something visible to spawn. Though the pages kept turning and then... Stopped, the blank pages started slowly revealing a secret message in the dark. "He who reads this, shall already know, this house isn't from this world. It was built under horrible conditions and sickening past. So many died to suffer in the creation of this pact. Through the mirrors, roam ghosts hungry to eat the bad. And when the victim looks at its own self, a monster in the glass shall release all hell. So never try, never see, never look. Never try to enter this filthy fluke. Or you will be trapped forever, in this cursed book." Nelly closed to book and felt her hands shaking, how was she gonna escape from her own reflection? Is there a way to reverse this wickedness? All she knew, was this house is a secret weapon, killed tons of people, just to sit where it stands. She threw the book at its place and stared at it. And just like that, it disappeared in the matter of the static. Hiding the past, deeper in the attic. Cursed Tales -Full Dive - Nelly was scared, but she was yet to be. As her never ending strive to seek out the things that hide beneath. An interesting, yet childish, curiosity. She wanted to see more of the dark world, hidden in this scene. And so! With days and slowly passing hours, the girl dedicated her free time, to witness the horror, just a speculation of what a distorted image should be...a nightmare hidden in the mirror debris. Although, nothing appeared to happen, not even a single appearance of the demon... Wait, alas! Once again in a midnight dreary night, as she wrote her deepest feelings, in a diary shaped as a girly heart. She witnessed something, that scared her deeply, though intrigued her into entering the bath. From there shone a light that blinded even the ones cursed to not see that beautiful sight. Rainbow like tapings came from the tempered glass. It was like a creature wanted to escape from it, and nothing more, tonight. An old and nearly rotten hand emerged and gripped her by the shirt, pulling her little body to fall in the vortex of that wicked world. And spin did she not, and creatures did she saw? Furious images of a contorted land with nothing but death grinned and growled. Whatever happened to the girl, who only pleaded for something amusing, not dread to shake her head. Not fear to break in her skin and slither the poison that was in. Turning her soul into a mixture of a writing and a poem, composed with a broken quill. The trippy ride ended abruptly as had it began, while some footsteps echoed around the bathroom and stopped all the fun. Those were the ones of Nelly's mother. She was pale and couldn't believe her child was so late up, and not asleep. Shaking her standing body, she was a witness of her dream. The little one was brought back, and was crying like not before. And her wish to be brought back to her room was never... Nevermore. Cursed Tales -Escaping through Dreams- Shivering... Shivering and nothing but trembling. Her core was shook and nothing could save her once more. The fact that she had travel into a different parallel made it somehow worse. The house had taken over her life, guided by this lifelong sacred curse. And Nelly couldn't do anything to stop it. Her little frighten heart had covered itself and was barely beating. Once again, her mind was exposed to something not worth believing. Though, how could one understand all that was occurring, in this mansion, so blurry and deceiving from those hateful screaming; demons lurking in the lairs of reflective mirrors, so well hidden behind thick layers of forgotten dust? There was only one way to escape this weird scheme and that was to fall prey to the kingdom of Morpheus where all was definitely obvious to not be true in any kind. And indeed Nelly engulfed herself into falling asleep day by day, in a honest attempt to escape the shadows that come alive each night. But that wasn't gonna be a shield, only a catalyst to them, a portal for their tricks and mischief to attack her once again through her mind. But the reflection, her very own, the kind that wanted to destroy her, was biding time, waiting, timing her attack, so she could take her life. Through thick fogs that were a creation of her imagination, Nelly thrived to hide herself from the demons that were trying, trying to disguise themselves so they could penetrate her soul and bend her spine. She fought and ran! Hiding from the creatures, that were grinning as the darkness was creeping in. What was strange from before, was the fact she wasn't waking up. Forcing herself to open her eyes, only brought the creatures closer to herself. Leading them was, was her, the evil girl. Seeing that, she realized...she couldn’t escape her created world. Cursed Tales -Rebirth with Misery- She was trapped the darkness sharpens. Everything fades away, so does the happiness. The vacant holes in her empty heart no longer fill it, but the dread the girl was feeling was out of this world's scaling. The demon that looked like Nelly smiled and touched her head. The twisted hand with, sickening claws, slowly made a scratch on her exposed forehead. A streak of deliciously looking metallic smelling substance, also known as blood, started dripping down her eyes, blinded her to the grin of the other girl. There was truly nothing she could mutter or just fight for freedom in this wicked clutter, filled with nothing but horrific beings, that viciously torture and laugh, and the helpless body of this little child. Nelly swore that she wasn’t gonna fall prey to them! Or fall asleep in front of the demon, because through her dreams she could enter, control and live with her. And that was scary, having to exist, knowing you carry another portion of the reflection that is evil to the heart. But that wasn't for her to decide, because her fate had already been suffocated and shoved upside down. But... NO! SHE WASN'T GONNA GIVE HERSELF TO THE SHADOW, OR FALL INTO THE HANDS OF THE HOLLOWS, TRYING TO DESPERATELY HANG ON HER STRINGS THAT BIND HER MIND, TRYING TO INFILTRATE AND MAKE HER PRECIOSUS LITTLE HEART SUBSIDE AND DIE. But little did she know, the energy she used to have, wasn't even her own, anymore. All was sucked up, and all was derailed, her body paled out, nullified, frail. Not gonna give up, but she already failed. The demons laughing hysterically, knowing she took her way. Bending her and striping her with the Webs, strings from the very creation, that was the existence of the depths. Nelly didn't even cease, but horridly deceased like a rabbit fallen in the Webs of dreams. With misery hiding underneath. The demon had sucked her dreams, creating her from scratch and tin. Rebirthing in her shiny skin. Waking up, a mortal sin. Cursed Tales -Hate Takeover- There was hatred in her pocket, screw with her and there’s no stopping, since the demon enter her feelings, all she ever knew was rage. And as Nelly, the other, faced herself like any other, stared at the mirror in the bathroom, she felt the grudge that was infused within. That very same anger had to be dispersed in any direction, since the little girl was furious and wanted to destroy. And what more could she burn, than the family that even mourned. Of the little angel that had evolved into a hungry evil, grinning by the sign of blood. So taking over those nightmarish ideas, she had a burden to deliver and un-root, perish and distort, this reality was going to contort into a parallel that only the grudges could endure. And what she had to do, was get rid of the other two, that remained un-taint and still believed in their little boo. But Nelly there was no more, only hate. Slithering up the steps, she would quietly enter their beds. As her little body, trembling and gripping the knife. She could see them sleep, not knowing what evil stares in the darkness. She felt disgusted! Not even a plain attempt to see that she is in their dreams. Pure and unholy anger took over the little "angel" and grin did she, smiling at their face. And with that very same rage, she would slit their necks, with the edge, pierce their nerves and muscle through flesh. Watch their liquid stain their pure white sheets and cover it in red. Stare at their barely seeing, ever fading, ghosting eyelids. "Why honey?" - asked the father, grunting barely in pain. "It hurts" - whispers the mother finally, taking her last breath. "Because that’s what it feels like, to have uncontrollable hate. In a world where you can only survive when you take the life of the ones that look after your fate. Where you can hold grudges that can expand into the outer space. There in the nowhere debris, where you can barely breathe, waiting to taste the metallic water and bath into the victim’s screams. It's hard when you only have to live, to see the others fall beneath your feet. In this dark world, that's what it feels like, to have hate, overtake your place!" Cursed Tales -Dark Constellations- And now that no one remained alive, only nightmarish creature dwelled inside the mansion, cursed to live outside the normality that the humans loved to subside. Only Nelly, and the demon lurking in her mind, with the soul bend, exactly as her spine. Nothing could break, apart their spirits…not good, nor light could extinguish their feelings so dead inside. And only hatred could reign beside the rage and anger, slowly taking the pace of the kingdom, that was this place, for the grudges, that love their race, and the demons, coming out to play with the children, living in this space, to destroy them, and take away themselves to the outer…where nothing ever stays, and completely, change away this game. With Nelly standing atop the burning edges of, reality, slowly bending the pages of the formality and reconstructing, what is night and day, and building, another wave of veins, filled with nothing but hate. Because that was the human emotion they could believe, a single people’s things, they could call harmony, because when the hate comes back for them, they are happy, because they could feel something, in their puny lives, only created to destroy and take away, the emotional cores of the living, that haven’t harmed them…never, and bring them to annihilate all…why, aren’t they clever? Oh yes they are. Cursing the homes of the fathers and mothers, so they could bring them bodies, which they could feed off from, and call it a misbehavior. When they can pillage all the remaining old villages and being fear in the villagers, who calmly live there in peace, and don’t want anything…but still get dismissed, whatsoever. Leaving the demons still hungry for killing, innocent, screaming folk that run for they live, with none people, who can stand up to them and bring them a piece of their power…which they do not control…in the end…whatever. It has been like this, all the time, the moments, the days. Where the creatures would roam in this world, and defile it with their stench. Slowly bring it down and contort it, as it has been always, like this, for the old ones to remember. The humans should have been angry…they should blame, Nelly, the demon residing within her, for this sickening endeavor. However, the solid obliteration that has been casted to end this and dissever the humans and defeat them once for all. And that has only brought a darkness…none could ever wish to push away…ah…the…terror! A Constellation, black, humid and defiled, brought upon to end and humanity and sever their lives forever. Cursed Tales -Black Future- Volume 1 Final Short What more can happen? What more can be accomplished, under this regime so disgusting and awful? With the seat of the king, taken by a mere sin, born from the book of the devil, born to destroy all who believe in the fact, that this earth is an immortal being. Because with belief, comes hope, and with that, happiness is born. And the hatred doesn't want to live, without having to torn. Destroy and conquer all who stand on the other side of this scorn, have faith in the opposition, that will probably fall. But what can Nelly, in the skin of the Demon do? Or was it the other way around? Demons keep forgetting their tools. Never mind that! She isn't a fool. What now? She asked, patiently rocking herself in the old abandoned stool. But not a whisper answers this question, as the mansion remained empty too. "This is such a bore; I have nothing to do." And she was right, not a soul remained, untrained in this house cursed to see only the images of the dead. With no one, to escape from the grasps that reach out from the walls and signs their prayers. From the chains that bind the people and turn their lives in living nightmares. Can't run away from the sickening curiously that is the demon, purging and eating all their fears. "Maybe we can sleep?" Asked one of the shadows next to Nelly. "Or shall we eat?" Said another. "Nothing between the two things we have been known to do. Today, we shall observe. Watch as the darkness consumes the world. Cherish this moment and relive the past, because this simple future is going to be black!" Answered Nelly, but knew that wasn't gonna last forever. The Shadows couldn't sit tight and hold their thirst. All they could do is obey and kill the innocent ones, staying in this cursed piece of broken dirt. Alas though. Their luck was in action, welcoming another family, to visit and auction for this lively mansion. Oh, such delightful sight for the shadows, for the demon sitting on the throne. Four more souls, that were gonna die, in this twisted old home. What a wonderful ending, to these wicked souls. |
AuthorHello, this is Nedyalko Delchev, or Black Wing. I’m a writer and currently 25-years old. One of my dreams is to publish a book and impact the world! Until then, I will be posting all kind of contend on my Story Book! Archives |