Cuts and Scars
As the Sun descends into the blood colored skyline and horizon emerges a man, with top hat, black coat, and white gloves covered in dirt in soot. He seems as the harmless homeless man, or at least a man who had a recent hangover. You continue walking past him, but behind you the echo of footsteps echoes in the empty street. Why would you leave the party so late? You could have been driven home by a friend, but it seemed like so much trouble!
Who could blame you? It seemed like too much trouble as you soon regret not taking the ride. As he approaches you, the wanderer, he then asks, "Why are you here?" You continue walking trying to believe he is not talk to you although, YOU are the only one traversing the streets, he repeats his question, "Why are you here", now you are vexed and you start to get the urge to turn around and speak to the man, you try to keep walking hesitantly, but something stops you.
"Why does no one listen to me well, at least I have acquired a new victim?" Victim, what does he mean by that?! you think to yourself, and comprehend he is speaking to you. A man walks by you scream to him, as everything around you seems to fade away. As does life, you see only the man, who reluctantly removes his top hat to reveal a set of horns. You attempt to scream, but then stifled. "I need to eat your fear. Feast upon your thoughts, and your life force. Anything, I'm famished, just let me feast upon your flesh, bones, and energy."
Those were the last words you heard before you were eaten. Sadly, your last sights had to be of the decaying flesh and bones of fallen victims, and smell the stench of rotting flesh. Turning your head one once more, instead of seeing the face of a delusional bum who reeked of liquor, stood a man overhead, whose face was now a skull. Again, seeing those horns and the dreadful blood covered sharp jagged teeth your last observation. Is this some cruel joke?!
Prologue:
He was an old drunk, and desperate man! He was BRILLIANT! How could it all crumble down upon him, before he began his drinking he was sharp as a knife? Thirty-years-old, and quite wise. Before his daily visits to the pub, he was undisturbed by any problems. A man of his wealth shouldn't be. What did he do for a living, you ask? He, of course, was a lawyer. He couldn't let that intelligence go to waste, why would he?
The year was 1803, and he had wooed the girl of his dreams, but it all changed when he lost his job, and then the lady. That is when he began to drink. Drink he did, gallons of liquor bought weekly, until he went broke. He urged the drink, he had done his research on Black Magick. He did something he had an eternity to regret, something he could no longer pay for alcohol and now.
He had done a spell that created the affect of drinking every time he ate another person, not that he was one anymore. Luring his unsuspecting victims into a house that is what I like to call Vixed, meaning a house that's address ends in 63 he has earned the name "The Vixon" after his name, Jacob Vixon.
Credited to JashouxOblivion
Originally uploaded on September 29, 2012
| Comments • 0 |
Loading comments...
|
