Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep348: Episode 348: Rituals, Bonfires and the Devil

Episode Date: June 25, 2026

Tonight’s terrifying tales of mystery begin with ‘Hunt in the Gulag’ by Black Persephone, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:BlackPersephonehttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Hunt_in_the_GulagToday’s second phenomenal story is ‘Sarcophagus’, an original work by Scare in a Box, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.user/scare_in_a_box/Tonight’s third story is ‘The Night I Met Satan’, an original story by Master Of Monstairs, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Wiki and narrated here for you all under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license.https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Night_I_Met_Satanhttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:MasterOfMonstairsTonight’s terrifying closing story is ‘The Revenant: Symphony of Pain’, a wonderful tale By Ringo Cross, kindly shared with me via DrCreepen’s Vault and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission:user/RingoCross99/submitted/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/ytjb6x/the_revenant_section_12_the_chilling_saga_begins/

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Rituals, bonfires, and legends of the devil have fascinated and frightened people for centuries because they represent the unknown, the forbidden, and the things we struggle to understand. There's something deeply unsettling about gathering in the darkness around a fire, surrounded by shadows and stories of secret ceremonies, ancient beliefs, and forces beyond human control. Those flames create a sense of mystery.

A place where whispers feel louder, old fears return and imagination fills in what we cannot see. Whether rooted in folklore, superstition, or horror fiction, the idea of a ritual performed beneath the night sky taps into a primal fear, that there may be hidden worlds and powers waiting just beyond the edge of our understanding. As we shall see in tonight's collection of four stories. As ever before we begin, a word of caution, tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. Beyond the four dimensions that man is aware of, there lies a mysterious fit.

His realm is as big in size as the universe itself and as timeless as eternity. It rests between the depths of man's worries and the pinnacle of his knowledge and is the nexus between light and gloom, science and superstition. The Gulag was the government agency in charge. of the Soviet network of forced labor camps, which were set up by the Order of Vladimir Lenin, reaching its peak during Joseph Stalin's rule from the 1930s to the early 1950s. Life was a day-to-day struggle, hour to hour in many cases. Hunt in the Gulag by Black Pesophony. They were horribly wretched things.

my days usually begin and end with seeing them the dockhodhya or the goners were located on the other side of the bowed wire as i walked by almost all of these people had large sores on their bodies missing teeth and glassy eyes and a strange and inhuman appearance to their faces they all stank worse than the normal prisoner as they had no control over their own bowels and bladders their rotic clothes were drenched in excrement. Some of them were raving and wailing incoherently, while others were dazed and night-blind, arm stretched out as they continually bumped into everything in their pathways. A couple of them were not moving. Bodies stiff along the cold ground, a clear indication that life left them not too long ago. I've seen them for a few months now, when it was still difficult to get used to. What makes it even worse is the constant reminder that it could easily be your own fate at any time.

I shudder and rub my arms for self-comfort, eagerly anticipating some soup. Well, not so much soup. It's some sort of mystery mush floating in salty water. Maybe if I'm incredibly lucky, I'll get a decent size piece of bread. I'm pretty sure I met my quota for the day. Well, I sort of cheat it here and there. But so far no one is the wiser. We hear the guards speak in their usual sharp and aggressive tone.

I carefully line up behind the other women in my brigade, eyes blinking and growing exhaustion from the exceptionally long workday. Sixteen hours, and I'm still two weeks away before I get my monthly Sunday off. I take a deep breath and let out a sigh. Just don't think about it. Just don't. Think about it. At least this morning we weren't made it undress

and have our bodies be thoroughly investigated. Oh, soup. Cook hands me a raggedy wooden bowl filled with liquid and chunks, a morsel of dark, dry bread, and a mug of water. No spoon. It was late in the evening, a bit too late for a conventional dinner time,

but the commandant wanted us to keep going to cover some sort of, well, I don't know, we just needed to work a little extra today and bypass our usual meal break. I was starving as usual, to say the least. The food is never enough here to truly survive by, unless of course you prove yourself to be an exceptional worker. But even then, the more successful you are, the more they think the quotas can be raised. It's a never-ending cycle. Even the strongest and most eager end up collapsing at some point. I nestled into my tiny little area inside a very humble home.

The other female convicts were on their way inside the barracks as well. The vast majority political prisoners like myself, shuffling into their officially owned territory. There wasn't a lot of space in our shack. We looked like chaotic sardines in a tin can. The bunk beds had at least three women each, and the floors had scattered human bodies everywhere in makeshift blankets. There was an attempt to be clean, but it was still filthy. There aren't a lot of options for toilets and washing. I'll take a sip of my soup carefully.

At least we didn't have to live with the men. Apparently their world was so much more rough and dangerous. Granted, not that this was the high life, but at least my comrades, I'm technically not allowed to use that title with others as we ceased existing as proper comrades But they can't control my head now, can they? Well, at least they were decent enough girls and women A lot of them arrived here for similar reasons as I

They were laid for work too many times They said something they shouldn't have said They were accused of being spies for such and such countries They were married or a child of a well-known RESTI. They were visiting foreigners, and so on and so on. I said something negative against the Soviet system, and an acquaintance reported me.

Lo and behold, after a month of interrogation, another month stuffed in a cattle car, here I am located in this wasteland, receiving ten years as punishment. All in all, we are enemies of the people, mentally and socially poisonous and dangerous, worse than rapists, robbers, and murderers. Those are the physical crimes in comparison, as the state calls it,

and that's easier to rehabilitate and understand. We have lesser rights than they do in the camp world. NKVD can go fuck themselves and Joseph. Some of my comrades were still infatuated or in denial, but I wasn't. I knew. The rest of the women in our population, not as many in number, were prostitutes and thieves, usually affiliated with the male gangs, the former were much lower in the hierarchy than the latter. They usually kept themselves, and I was fine with that,

as I had no interest in indulging in their unique and incredibly harsh world. Oh, one must still be careful with the thieves, and obviously take your items from you. These days, socks, sweaters, utensils, and other everyday items were worth their weight in gold. I looked down at my empty bowl. Finished already. I carefully scraped the bowl with my fingers itching to get any sort of little slip of remaining soup. I stood up from my spot, deciding to head out for a bit. It was becoming very stuffy in here, and despite already having fresh air all day,

I wanted to go back outside. Besides, with winter's lasting ten or so months here, might as well take advantage of the reasonable weather. I step out and look around. There was some lighting here and there, thanks to the odd bulb dangling on wires, but it was otherwise fairly dark. I can see the menacing towers in the distance where the night guards were watching over us.

I can see some other women in the distance, chatting with each other. Some of them older women, some of them adolescents, others in between, wearing various shableness. wearing various shabby clothing as their main attire. Many of the clothes were leftovers of the day they first got arrested, whereas the others were given poorly fitted uniforms back during their interrogation days in a formal prison.

Everyone had their hair tucked away under a scarf, and everyone equally looked pale and gaunt. They were talking about basic things, as one usually does in this environment. I join in the conversations, discussing food, little details about the old family life, who's in the punishment cell, who got pregnant, who died today, who the lucky few that became seamstresses or kitchen staff instead of loggers or miners, as it guaranteed extra food, shelter and privacy.

Later, dark humour comes in, a regular method of coping with a hellish circumstance. We really wanted to talk about other things, like politics, history and more details about the current events of the outside world, but that's much too risky. I suddenly hear this cry in the distance, followed by sharp piercing laughter. The women glanced around nervously, trying to find the direction of the sound. A few seconds later, the realization dawned on one of them. Oh no, oh no, one of the women says, face dripping with severe tension. What is it? What's that?

As I say that, there was a banging sound echoing through the darkness. We have to go. We all have to go inside right now. My stomach sank. What's going on? God, is this what I think it is? Male voices are heard, cack-calling followed by insulting commentary. It was faint, but still very powerful in their intention. and determination.

We are coming for you, hores. Ready for some fun. I get it now. The organized criminal gangs managing to successfully band together even in these dreaded labor camps. A reputation for being brutal and cruel, they are the prisoners associated

with the purely so-called physical crimes. Trademark tattoos riddled their bodies, each individual marks signifying their own symbolic and sinister meanings. I've heard about this happening frequently. It's beyond the simple everyday notion of the occasional harassment, or having informal camp husbands as protection. I was informed about the case of a hundred young girls being brutally attacked on a cargo ship by the thugs who broke down their room,

killing the good men who tried to protect them. And there are various accounts from other camps that women are often hunted by these criminals for. For... I didn't hesitate and quickly followed the other women back into our building. Won't the guards stop them or something? I ask. Another woman snorted in response. They hardly ever intervene in these cases.

We slam the door shut and proceed to look around to try and find something to barricade it. It wasn't like our barrack was a mighty stone fortress. just a building containing old logs and rickety windows. In any case, it was worth a fight, and we managed to shove beds against the available doors. Next was the windows, which we tried to seal with planks of wood that were meant to be for a future fire.

I was actually worried about the criminal women among us. What if they're working with the gangs during a moment like this? What if they help them? I carefully glance over at their faces, and they actually looked as worried as we were. One of them started to weep, and then reminded of the simple fact that, even though they might be members, the criminals still view their own women as less than dirt. This was a surprise to them, different than being aware of something ahead of time. So, we waited.

For about a minute there was silence, and then the voices reappeared in the distance, laughing and shrieking. We do have walls surrounding us, so they still have to get over that. There were other shelters nearby, and I sincerely hope that the other prisoners have taken some sort of measures to protect themselves. I slipped myself against a corner, taking long, deep breaths to calm myself down. Everyone was as silent as I was, for obvious reasons. I rub my hands together, wanting to do some sort of spiritual reaction, but as that sort of thing was also banned and target,

I wasn't able to put the kind of words together that I wanted. What was it? Deliver us from evil. Something about bread. Peace and judging bad dead people. Wait. I think I might be combining two different ones together. There was another noise in the distance.

Something I wasn't able to put my finger on. Creaking. Crashing. Whatever it might be. It was a clear indication of one thing. their attempt was successful i hear more cat-calling and more random speeches i couldn't understand everything that was being said in their cheers and chants as their slang language was different from the other natives and citizens but it still sounded menacing swear words threats what will happen to our bodies after they'd had their way

how many will get each apparently some of them had knives other clubs. That much I can at least get the basic gist of. Their voices were getting closer. Then I heard the sound of a woman screaming in fear and then quickly turning into stark agony. I wanted to weep, weep for the poor soul who, for whatever reason, was still out there. It didn't take long for the screaming to finally stop. A few more minutes go by before one voice belches out saying how he successfully cut off a very intimate part of her body and was showing it off. Footsteps. Footsteps that were quickly coming closer and closer to our building. The way they were moving it sounded like they were

surrounding it. I couldn't help but swear under my breath. Oh, if those bastards managed to get in here, I'm going to destroy them the best that I could. Hello, hello, Preetys. Pettys, come on now, properties opened the door. His voice was gruff and deep, heavily accented in their standard form. A knock on the door. Might as well get it over with. This time they started kicking one of the doors.

The door was shaking off dust as it vibrated against the bed that pressed against it. Some of the women yelp in terror, others started sobbing. and some start swearing and telling them to go away. The thugs continued trying to smash down the door, all the while a few other members were whisking back and forth in front of the windows, their peaking shadows dancing in inside the walls of our barracks. I end up hearing some strange scratching sound near my head. No question of one of them trying to use a knife.

The more you try to resist, the more we will mess up your fucking faces after. Saw you in half while you're still alive. My hands are over my ears, desiring to block out their unsolicited noises and rantings. How long until everything breaks down and they come in? How many are out there anyway? If I were to guess, maybe a minimum of five, maximum of fifteen. I'm not sure. My brain is so tired, it's hard to think about numbers.

I used to be so good at math and philosophy at university But that was taken away from me too There was some rustling I think I heard something about a fire Oh shit are they gonna try and burn us out Please, please let the guards do something about this There was some more banging and a woman screams into her right hand As the left clutches her chest

But afterward the banging eventually says ceases, and you can hear the footsteps slowly fade away. Are they really giving up? Did we do it? All of us stood motionless, aware that jumping into conclusions too soon would likely be our own undoing. Some time goes by, I have no idea how much. They could be waiting nearby, hoping we'd let our guard down and tiptoe back outside to investigate. Ah, fat chance. We were staying in here. We were staying in here, for the rest of the night, assholes. Everybody's bodies start to relax a little, and the idea of sleep is finally touching upon us.

I stretch out my legs slightly. So, that was my first attack. I've been lucky so far, with a few forced propositions and exchange deals. My head falls back towards the wall, and I look up towards the ceiling. A tiny hole was spotted, with a small glimpse of a sense.

star in the nighttime sky. Screams. Loud screams. Once more in the distance. And all of us jerk up in shock. The screams were varied and mixed. Most of them women. Then some possibly children.

What appears to be the sound of a young man? Was that their carth? No. They were secret wannabe gang victims meant for a future meal. So it can't be that. A camp husband who sneaked his way in earlier? The screams were now louder and drawn out, absolutely blood-curdling. We hear thumps, screeching, running, and laughter.

We got to the other barracks, an older woman speaks in a hushed and solemn tone. We jump up slightly when we hear something being thrown against our outside wall. It was a sickening sound, hard yet wet sounding at the same time. We were forced to endure the sound for some time until finally a dated, loudspeaker started to boom across the territory. That is enough now. Stop. You've had your film. It was a somewhat serious voice, but there was also something vaguely casual and nonchalant about it. And the horrifying sounds resume. I said, enough. Last names have stopped. were quickly listed go attend to the situation immediately you can hear some whistles and

shouting followed by the odd gunshot but it was a mix of relief and pure anger over their delay in handling the hell that had just transpired all the commotion both close by and far off eventually begins to die down the booing voice of the commandant then tells his other men to proceed piling up some of the bodies. Don't worry about burial tonight. We'll wait until tomorrow morning so the surviving prisoners can do it. I crinkle my nose. My first week here I had to assist in burying hundreds of decomposing bodies in permafrost.

It didn't matter if it was warmer outside nowadays. The ground was still impossible to work with. The best that was done was throwing rocks and snow on top. for them, and my mind quickly shifted to sorrow. I wanted to weep and mourn for everyone to cry on behalf of the injustice, to tell the world someday. I was exhausted, but sleep was not kind to me that night. Early morning came swiftly, and roll call was carried out.

I ran up outside with the other women, groggy and depressed, carefully shifting an eye towards our building. God, it had scratches and splinters all over it. Surprising now that it actually stood up the way it did. I noticed a blotch of blood on the side of the wall, and as my eyes travelled toward the ground, I noticed the torso of a human. The eyes were wide in shock, hands curled up, hair blooded and matted,

with something stuffed in her mouth. I think I recognize her, a French woman. We met briefly, and I helped her translate something in Estonian and Russian. I dotted my head away and closed my eyes. The guard demands that we scatter and start picking up what needed to be picked up. Here's an old cart. Do your duty, then head straight towards the forest, he says. Anyone who resists or disobeys is immediately executed, he says. That last threat was a normal one.

After it's done, breakfast may be given. as usual. I shuffle my way over to a rickety cart, lifting it up slowly and carefully. I push the cart by the usual goners, ironically the ones seemingly untouched by the whole ordeal, their movements swaying about in a melancholy and eerie motion nearby. Just nine years and six months to go.

Just nine years and six months to go. Just nine years and six months to go. Two years is the average before one perishes. Daily fight for life is fought hour by hour. In my head, I'll constantly tell myself, this is not the hour I will die. A sarcophagus is a type of coffin or burial container that was commonly used in ancient Egypt, Rome, and other civilizations throughout history.

The significance of a sarcophagus in history is multifacist. facetate. First and foremost, sarcophagi were often used to hold the remains of important or wealthy individuals, such as pharaohs, kings, queens, and other high-ranking officials. These individuals were often buried with elaborate funeral rights and grave goods, such as jewelry, pottery, and other items that reflected their status in importance in life. As such, sarcophagi can provide us with valuable insights into the beliefs, customs, and practices of those ancient civilizations. Overall, the significance of sarcophagus in history lies in its role as a container for the remains

of the deceased, as well as its function as a symbol for the beliefs, customs and artistic traditions of the ancient civilizations that produced it. Tonight we'll see an utterly new take on the concept of the sarcophagus. The sarcophagus. I scare in a box. Consciousness returned slowly. the drugs leaving Lorkan's system To find he was moving slowly down

The walls around him made of metal An elevator He breathed in deeply There were those who spoke of it The sarcophagus, but no one knew the truth It seemed as though anyone who walked in Never returned None were missed and he wouldn't be either

The choices he'd made no longer making him seem human to most others, the end of his life something they wouldn't be sadden by. Not even his mother would cry. Alarcon stared at the door. Escaping the elevator was an impossibility, but there may be other chances. Whatever the others had said might be nothing more than stories to spread fear into those who were chosen the way that he'd been. It was his time to be useful. At least that was what they said, so it was likely he'd been given some kind of

of job to do. Finally, his consciousness fully was his once more. The elevator reached the right stop, and the door opened automatically. Outside were guards. Each had a firearm pointed directly at Lorca. Something he'd become used to. Stepping out, knowing it was what he was supposed to do, he looked at each of them in turn before the sound of footsteps started to come from in front of him. At the same time, the elevator started to move back up. Glancing back, no sign of an easy route to follow the elevator, Lorkan waited. The footsteps likely belonging to the person who'd explain it all to him. When they stepped into the light, he saw it was a young woman who looked as though she was barely out of college.

He raised an eyebrow. She didn't seem to pay any attention to his reaction. Lorkan O'Connell? Who else was it going to be? Nodding, not wanting to anger her on the first day, he studied her. You have been brought to the sarcophagus to assist us in our research. She gestured for him to follow her, as though he had any other choice, the guards generally urging him in that direction.

This facility is somewhere you will not be able to escape. Your escapades are well known to us, Mr. O'Connell. Say nothing, certain he wasn't meant. to, Lorkan kept his eyes on where they were going. The guards were watching him closely, but if he was there to assist with some kind of research, it was likely he'd be dealing with scientists. All it took was for one of them to make a mistake. Yes, of course, don't believe me, but you may when I explain more about the work you'll be

doing. She glanced back. There have been those who thought they may be able to use me as they're rude out. It didn't work for them, and it won't work out for you. There was a certainty in her voice, a Lorke could have never heard before. Whatever you may imagine, I was chosen for a reason. Yes, I am young, however, my father has been working on learning more for many years now,

and he's no longer able to deal with the depth. We are under the sea, deep under the sea. He stared at her back. This is the deepest, I believe, any human. have ever been. During one of my father's journeys down here, he found something. Sadly, due to a lack of understanding of what it was, both his companions died, and it was there and he started to understand there was so much more to it than he could ever have imagined. Now, after many years of studying, we understand better. At some point in our distant past someone or something,

built something down here. Father believes it may be a bit of a lot of the same time. The father believes it may be some kind of temple, connected to an old god, but so far the only thing we are certain of is that we haven't yet explored everything. It's below us, deeper than we are, and you're our next explorer. You'll be going into the ruins. There will be no lights. One of the strangest thing about the ruins is light sources of all kinds are useless. In the early days we try them all, attempting to find a solution to the problem. Back when father first, found it, they used ropes, believing it would be enough, and finding it wasn't the case. Now, before you're sent in, you'll be given a suit which uses sound waves in order for you to navigate,

similar to a bat. We know these work, although so far we haven't had anyone returned to us. We simply have an expanded map with another disappearance to add to the list. You may be an exception to the rule, Mr. O'Connell. Well, that seemed unlikely. was he permitted to ask questions. Loken regged a hand through his hair, eyes still on the back of the woman leading him through the facility, someone who'd never given him a name. What did it matter?

When it was obvious, he was going to be lost within the ruins like all the others. How many had there been through the years, so it got to the point where everyone knew about it? So far you've been very quiet. It's not unusual. Finding out where you are often has that effect on people. But I am willing to answer any questions you may have at this point, if I have the answers to give you.

Does anything actually matter? Lorkin shook his head when she glanced back at him. Her eyes emotionless. Well, you can answer my questions, but I'm going to walk into that ruin alone, knowing I'm never going to return. Anything you tell me now means, nothing. Maybe it does. Some have been fascinated by the very idea of the ruin, believing

they'll be the one to find their way out. You, on the other hand, have gone in the opposite direction, not willing to think it's possible that you may be an exception, and therefore all of this means nothing to you. I've found that this has an effect on how much deeper you can get. Those who have seen themselves being different have been lost to us far sooner. Have you never been scared, one of us might make it back out. Why scared? Mr. O'Connell, if one of you does end up becoming the exception to the rule, it will change everything for us.

She stopped, turning to look at me, her eyes on mine. I have no doubt what you think of us, and the decisions we've made in order to map these ruins. Had they been anywhere else, I'm certain the government would have closed them up a long time ago. Instead, they keep sentencing. you to us in order to understand more. Understanding is more important than I think you could possibly understand. How are they made?

Does this mean there were civilizations who were able to get this deep in order to build their temples? We know so little, and the very thought of one of you returning is something we haven't dared to have, as there have been hundreds lost. Too many. At times I've argued against this, saying it would be best to stop. Yet there are those who argue that we can't. Not until we know what's in there.

If it's something dangerous, then we need to find a way to stop it, although I have no reason to think it's something we could do easily. More than anything, I want someone to be the exception, to find their way back to tell us what they've found. But every time it doesn't happen, my belief in it can die a little more. One day I have to believe something will change, and the person we send into the ruins will come back. If I didn't, I'd not be able to do my job.

Something I have to admit I sometimes wish wasn't mine at all, but I'm the only person who followed in father's footsteps. He's unwilling to give up the same way the government is, leading us to being disposable. Yeah, we made bad choices in our lives, so it doesn't matter if we don't return. if it was someone else, everything would be different. Yes, it would.

And I don't see you as disposable, Mr. O'Connell. I want you to return. She stepped over to a locker, taking out a suit that looked like it might have been based on those divers' wall. Please remove your clothes and put on the suit, ready to make your journey into the ruin. Blinking, Lorcan took it. Why, you want me to strip right here?

It's nothing we haven't all seen before. Shrugging, certainly it didn't matter. He stripped off his prisonware, slowly shimmying into the suit. As he did, she was focused on a screen instead of him, while the guards all had their firearms still pointed at him. There was no way of knowing what he might do, although it wasn't like he tried taking on multiple guards at the same time, when he did have a chance of finding a way out down there.

Maybe that's why no one returned, pulling the hood over his head. A small headphone slipped into his ear. Let me know if you can hear the voice of the computer. She tapped a couple of points on the screen. She'd be coming over to you in a second. Good afternoon, Mr. O'Connell. Yeah, I can hear it.

nodding she looked at him one last time this is where you start please continue to follow the path you'll find a point where the light stop when that happens you've reached the ruins breathing in deeply Lorcan took a moment to work through his emotions preparing for what leaving probably meant

they didn't push him to move seeming to understand the situation instead they gave him that time maybe she did actually want one of them to return and saw him as their chance for it to happen it was impossible to know for certain starting down the path in silence lorcan didn't look back at any point all he'd see were those guards still pointing their firearms at him ready to shoot at any point should it be necessary and it wasn't he was willing to do it what they wanted him to do, however illogical it was for them to keep sending people down into a ruin they knew probably killed anyone who entered it. Reaching the darkness took a few minutes, enough time to put a lot of distance between them and anything that did come out. Because if there wasn't something in there, why was no one ever finding their way back, or to somewhere else entirely? Maybe there were, and somewhere within

was some kind of teleporter that would take him somewhere else entirely. Lorcan laughed at himself. Grandad was the one who read him stories about other worlds up until he wasn't there anymore, his death hitting hard. The memories were still painful. He sighed, pushing them back, the way he always did. Mom was the one who tried to use that as the explanation for how he got himself into the position he was, and maybe it did have something to do with it.

If it hadn't been so sudden, one moment here and the next gone, it might have been easier. Only death was never easy. Understanding that pain should have been the reason he never forced it onto someone else. Instead, Lorkin found himself in a dark place, wanting everyone to hurt the way he did. Some said everything would have been different had he been in therapy, able to actually talk to someone,

working through those emotions. They were probably wrong. Even though it was rare, Lawton thought it was much more likely there was something wrong inside him. If he wasn't, he might have cared when he'd killed those people. Grandad was the only person

he truly cared about, and losing him, well, it was an inevitability. All mortals died. Even he would, potentially in the ruins he'd almost reached. It was probably for the best he was there. At least his death would mean something

to those who wanted to understand what was there. Reaching the point where all the light starts, Lorkin gave himself another moment. Knowing when he stepped into the darkness, everything was going to be different. Finally, after longer than he should have waited, he stepped into the darkness, losing all sight in the second it took.

Touching the wall with one hand, "'Lawken at least knew he was somewhere. "'It wasn't all a hoax.' "'He breathed in deeply, slowly, "'running his hand over the cold stone. "' Walk forward, Mr. O'Connell, "'until I tell you to turn.' "'Doing as he was told, the easiest task,

"'Lawken thought of the woman who'd sent him down there. "'How similar her voice was to that of the computer. "'Maybe they'd used her to create it, "'because she had made the decision to take over from her father, so those who studied wandering the ruins would at least have some consistency. Left here. Knowing he should do what he was told straight away, Logan still reached out with one hand to see if there was a wall on the right.

There was. Interesting. Going left, the silence lasting longer than it had before. He found himself wondering how large the ruin was. He didn't have any idea of what it looked like. Maybe he should have asked more questions. Ignoring the fact he was walking into something he knew nothing about was stupid. Right now.

Once again, Lorcan reached out for the other wall, realizing there was nothing there. As he turned, his arm brushed against a wall in front of him. So he'd been moments away from walking directly into a wall, something he definitely would have done had he not reacted differently to the voice. He could give me a little more warning. He wasn't going to be able to hear him, probably programmed not to say anything more than it did.

Unless you want me to break my nose on a wall. There was no response. Exactly what he had expected. Loken kept walking, not feeling anywhere near close to tired, which might have something to do with the suit. Hopefully there was also something within it that would stop him from becoming hungry or thirsty,

otherwise there were going to be issues in the future. sighing, Lorker knew there was nothing else he could do, other than think and wait for the suit to tell him where to go again. Thinking meant going over everything he'd done before, a nightly ritual for him most of the time, as he tried to work out whether his life could have ended differently, or if he was always going to be the kind of person who ended up wandering in the darkness as a disposable explorer, chosen by the government to do something they wouldn't let anyone else do. another right or prepared them before

look and check all the walls around him they were all open but he needed to go right however tempting it was to go against the computer it might be the way he was able to find a route out of the ruins

although if he did was he going to be able to find a way back to the surface being deeper than the sea made it that much more complicated was probably the main reason they weren't worried about someone being able to escape if there was a way out glancing left, even though he still couldn't see anything, he turned right.

Had someone else gone the same way as him in the past, so he was simply following their route, and eventually the time would come when Lorcan would step down a path no one had ever been on before. Not that he would know when it was. The computer might have that knowledge, without being able to share it with him. Walking for what felt like longer than before,

Lorken closed his eyes. It wasn't as though it mattered whether they were open or closed, the darkness, unlike anything he'd ever seen before. In some ways it was easier to be looking at the soft darkness of his own eyelids, rather than the hard darkness of the ruins around him. How was it even possible? There was no darkness quite as dark anywhere else, at least not that Lorken knew of.

It was one of those things he'd learned about from Granddad. Was it simply his vision, at least when his eyes were open? Close they couldn't see anything at all. Grandad would have been fascinated by these ruins. He was the kind of person who would have thrown as many people as necessary at the problem in order to learn as much as possible. Now Lorkin was one of the people helping with that, finding answers to a question that was beyond all human understanding,

at least right then. Granddad would have wanted him to volunteer for it, Maybe he had, by following the path he'd found himself on, learning more about a different kind of darkness. The darkness someone could have within their soul. Breaking a hand through his hair, Lorcan kept moving. Filling his hair reminded him that he did still exist. He was still a person, walking through a dark ruin, only able to know where he was going

thanks to the computer within his suit. Someone might have been able to find their way through a certain distance without help. But why would they try? Obviously someone had, the first people to find the ruins, walking into a darkness they definitely couldn't have understood because they were explorers. It was what they did.

No one sane would make the choice to delve deep into the depths the way they had. How was it even possible? Another of the questions he should have asked before. Left. Going left, not checking the other walls, Lorkan kept walking. What did it matter? He didn't need to know anything.

Someone else was going to learn everything he'd found out because they'd chosen him as their next explorer. It wasn't something he'd have ever chosen for himself, but then his choices hadn't exactly been good ones. Do you remember killing him? The voice was still the same, but thoughtful. Killing who? No list is.

long. Why did you do it? How long is a piece of string? Loken shrugged. Pain is sometimes stronger than we are. We are? Humans, mortals. He breathed in deeply, half wishing there was someone to look at. Who are you?

Now that's an interesting question, but you already know the answer. All you need to do is look down. deep inside yourself. Who are you? Do you remember dying? Switching from female, the voice belonging to the woman upstairs, to male, seemed as though Lorkan was talking to himself.

Another of the many things he wasn't able to understand. How could the voice change if everything was programmed to work the way it did? Is it something they were doing to him? Attempting to turn to go back, Lorken found himself. trapped in place. Closing his eyes once more, he thought of the questions the voice had asked. He'd asked.

Who was he? Did he remember dying? How could he remember dying when he was alive? Deep with him before, memories swirling around him, Lorcan saw himself as he was, long before he found himself in prison. The man below him was one of the men he'd killed,

becoming a serial killer, wanting to find a way to free himself. Only the man didn't look the way he had before. He looked like Lorken. Lorken killed Lorken. It was the same for every memory. He saw things as they were, as they'd been, and how they were going to be. Within the prison there were hundreds of Lorkans. Some were prisoners, all of them arrested for one crime or another,

placed together to pay for their bad choices. Others were the guards, watching over the other Lorcan's, as Lorken the true Lorcan tried to understand what he was seeing. Was the voice being controlled by something, trying to make him lose his sanity, so he'd spend the rest of his life, however short it would end up being, running through the darkness, never to find his way out. Insanity is an interesting theory, but no, my task is not to break you in that way. You are to know the truth, the whole truth, and to make a decision as you are the next to walk these paths, the next to find their way into the abyss.

Do you remember why you created it? Do you understand who you are? Lorkan shook his head. It was obvious he didn't understand who he was, but he knew where to find the answers, if the voice was right. And maybe the voice was right. He breathed in deeply, trying to find his sense. another of the things his grandfather had taught him when he was younger. Controlling his more negative emotions was important. Only then he'd lost his centre with his grandfather. Finding it once more was the beginning. Going back to that lesson,

Logan found himself looking at himself. His grandfather was him too, a hard thing to ignore, but he managed it, as he heard the right choice in his head rather than his own. although if he was honest with himself his granddaughter almost sounded like he would if he was many years older connecting with the control he'd lost

Lorkan opened his eyes and it was as though he was able to see the truth for the first time in his life he was in the middle of what looked to be some kind of nebula alone like he'd always been something slowly becoming more painful as the years passed by

years, decades centuries, millennia everything was the same way it had always been. Earth almost called to him, looking as it always had, beautiful, lush, home to animals and nothing more. Going down to it, look and walk through the trees, breathing in the air and thought about what to do next. How was he going to change things for the better? Was it even possible? The animals didn't seem to fear. him. One, a wolf, moved closer. It didn't have a name then, but Blorkin knew it as it

had become, a dog. The kind of pet he'd once had when he was younger, until the time came when it left him too. The pain probably what ended up breaking him. Death was complicated in so many ways. Petting the wolf, Blorkin thought about his future and what it was going to hold. Nothing in the universe. He was alone and would always be alone, unless he did something to change that future. It wasn't as though he couldn't. Leaving the wolf with one last scratch behind the ears, he delved deep into earth. Going through the layers deep enough, it was likely never to be found. Lorcan started work. What it was needed was to be a safe place, for those who learnt the whole truth about who he was. Somewhere he could make the truth. He could make the truth. He was. Somewhere he could make the

choice once more, if it was right to keep up with the things as they were. Maybe the time would come when he'd bring an end to it all. There was no way of knowing if that would happen, or when it would be, or who'd make the choice in the end. Little by little, he created the ruin, the abyss, a hiding place for the truth. It wouldn't be easy to find. Those who did would learn everything. From the beginning to that moment as they stood within the dark,

making a decision that might change everything. The very way he'd made a decision he knew would change everything for the best. Moving from the ruin to the surface once more, Lorcan started work on the next stage. Beings made from his consciousness, slowly dwindling himself down to nothing, and yet he was everything. He was everyone, man, woman, child.

Not the animals, they were something else entirely, but it didn't matter, because finally he felt like he'd made the right choice. As he had, that thought, he let himself forget. Lorkan no longer knew who he was. He was simply another human, from there came the billions who inhabited Earth, all of them part of the beginning. Unlike anyone else, he knew the whole truth about the world. Others had made the same journey, learned the same truth, with none of them making the decision to return. The darkness was no longer impenetrable. Able to see the ruin,

which was better called a maze, somewhere his cells would wander until they touched the truth, the suit becoming part of them in a way it hadn't been before. Breathing in deeply, Lorkin sat down on the stone. If he left the ruin,

everything would fade away. Like before, he'd be alone. The worst part was that he'd know he was alone. Maybe he'd remember all the life, lives he'd lived, able to dwell in those memories, only it would never be the same as it was. Yet humans had done so much bad. The choice he'd made changed Earth in multiple ways, most of them terrible, and Lorca knew if he headed back through the maze, gaining all those people

as a part of him once more, everything would be different. Earth would return to how it was before, a paradise. Was he truly willing to be so? selfish enough to let himself destroy a planet? Fighting down on his lip, feeling the pain, he thought of all the lives he'd lived where he'd hurt in one way or another, traumatized by those around him, because they were traumatized themselves. Went down from one generation to the next.

Lorkin's own life a reminder of that. Something that broke him. Others were broken in a similar way, hence prison, being sent down to the sarcophagus, knowing he was likely to die, but that death wasn't the worst possibility, and he'd never known, never had a way to, the truth hidden in the very deepest depths of earth, something people were going to keep exploring.

Another thing he could keep from happening, if he made the decision to walk back. All it took was him walking back through the maze to find there was no one there, no one anywhere. alone closing his eyes lork and thought of the good in the world

it existed everywhere he might not have been able to see it his own pain that much stronger but he was able to see it as he sat in the maze the ruin the abyss the sarcophagus and more than anything else the truth how did the others decide

exactly the way you are those who come down here found life to be the more complicated it could be it's part of the reason you're the ones who need to make the choice you're the ones who truly understand pain in a way those who are happy cannot they aren't able to understand how bad things are at times yet as you have thought there is also good pain was something lorkan felt before as he wandered the universe searching for someone to be with to not be alone any longer

millennia of hunting for that one thing, and in the end he found it. But it wasn't what he expected it to be. Instead, it was a world he was able to claim for his own, to build something which wasn't perfect. Nothing could be perfect. He was fallible, so his creation was fallible. They made mistakes. Lorcan made mistakes, letting the pain get the better of him.

He wasn't the only one who did. Did it not been for the others, those? who made bright choices, he might have made the decision to walk back through the maze to where she was waiting, only she wouldn't be there any longer. She'd be one of the first to become part of him again, along with the guards and anyone else in the facility. From there it would be the rest of humanity, little by little, till he was the only one left. He wouldn't be lorkin anymore.

Instead, he'd be the wanderer once again, with nothing. Earth would be able to return to how it was and maybe it was the choice he should make for the planet. But he couldn't. Leaving would destroy him. Able to see it in a way he couldn't before, he saw how loneliness was slowly transforming him. That was part of the reason

it was both dark and light within the human race. How he might have become dark enough to destroy the entire universe because it hadn't given him what he wanted, a companion, someone to love, the way he'd come to love in so many different ways. Maybe he'd destroy Earth by staying, but surely it was better to sacrifice one planet than it was to sacrifice them all. Loken's decision was made. He stayed sat in the ruins, the same way all the others had done before him, hundreds of them having made a similar choice.

They chose the universe over Earth. They chose their own sanity over anything else. Yes, a selfish choice. Yet it was the logical one, the most logical one for everything. He thought back to the wolf, scratching ears, one animal giving him a moment of something he could never imagine before. It was then he knew what he needed, in a way he hadn't before. So he took it.

One day he might not need it. But that day hadn't come yet. The night I met Satan by Master of Monsters. We aren't supposed to talk about our patients for confidentiality reasons, but I feel so compelled to write this, if anything, because I really believe it could be true. Now, I no longer work at this facility. I quit two years ago because of personal reasons. I was taking care of the mentally ill, and I felt I was becoming incapable of doing so,

and I've since changed professions. Now, what I'm about to tell you is true, and it has haunted me every waking day since it happened. I was a nurse, a good one at that, in a local psychiatric hospital. It's only a year before I found myself promoted, or maybe demoted, to the secure unit at the hospital. God, it was a nightmarish place to work, to tell you the truth. It wasn't like the other units, where the people still had some shreds of sanity. No, most of the people in that unit was so far gone that they seemed to be more animal than human. Walking down the halls, their screams, and sometimes growls could become deafening.

I was almost tempted to bring an MP3 player to work with me, but the idea of someone creeping up behind me without hearing them, that was what stopped me. The nights were the worst. It's not like the movies where the lights would be completely turned off, but they were dimmed. And the noises, though not as loud, were far more disturbing. It was a constant murmuring and humming that droned on throughout the night. My last night there was the most interesting and the most unforgettable. Sometimes patients would get out of their rooms, and we'd have to force or usher them back in,

but this was the first night that she got out. The security guard had wandered off, probably sulking because I'd turned down his advances for the hundredth time. time and I was alone. I didn't see her at first. Gosh, she was so tiny and frail and quiet. I'm not sure how long she stood there at the secured office, but something caused me to look up, and that's when I saw her.

She just stood there on the other side of the glass. She wasn't even looking at me. Instead, she was staring down at her feet. Her shaggy brown hair hung over her face, and her gown barely hung from her skeletal shoulders. We'll call her Lucy, though that wasn't the name on her papers. Lucy was different from the others.

She wasn't as violent, but she had the most violent history out of all of them. When I'd pass her room at night, I'd sometimes look in. She'd just be sitting there on her bed with her back to the wall, staring. I'm not sure if she ever slept or even moved from that position.

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. She was so inconspicuous, but she terrified me. As frightened as I was, I didn't call for help. God, it was the oddest sensation I've ever had. But, well, I felt bad for her. There was something there, beyond my fear, which made me have compassion for her. Sometimes security could be overly rough, and I didn't want her to be hurt or punished. So against my better judgment, I got up, walked to the office door, unlocked it and stepped out.

She didn't move as I slowly approached her. It wasn't until I placed a hand on her shoulder that she finally looked up at me. Through her messy hair, I could see that she had eyes of the loveliest shade of blue I'd ever seen. Looking into them was like looking into the ocean. I stared for a while, locked her eyes. until something began to well up inside of me. In those blue depths there was something lurking, not dangerous but painful.

It made my chest ache like my very heart was about to explode. I looked away and murmured to her that she needed to go back to her room. My door was open, she whispered in her tiny voice. I didn't open it. I thought it may have been just my perception of her, but it sounded like she was crying. There were no tears in her eyes, but the tone was there. I could feel the tightening in my chest grow and grow.

I needed to get away from this girl. I didn't know why, but she was heartbreaking just to be around. I placed my other hand on her other shoulder and steered her around, walking her toward the long hallway where the rooms were located. Her door was closed and locked, which I thought to be odd. I momentarily let go of her to shift through my keys, looking for the one for the rooms, while they all had the same lock.

I only took a moment to find it, but it felt much longer. God, I just wanted to get the door open, shove her inside and get away. My discomfort was rising steadily with each second. I stood there with her. So, um, have you ever had someone close to you, die?

Do you know the moment just before you receive the phone call, telling you that the person is dead. You already know what the call will be about even though you try telling yourself that it's not true. You try not answering at first, but you know you'll have to, and prolonging it really makes it worse. Oh, this is how I felt.

There was something about this girl that gave me that feeling. Irrationally, I felt that if I allowed her to speak or even stay near me, she was going to tell me something. Something horrible. her door clicked open and she stepped inside I felt this hope of relief but well I knew it wasn't going to come

I want to tell you something she whispered well I wanted to close the door turn around and walk away but my feet wouldn't move instead I found myself stepping inside with her and closing the door behind me it was insane I was terrified but I felt like I wanted to be in there No, no, it felt like something was making me want to be in there with her.

She walked over to her bed and crawled up on it, taking her usual position. I stayed near the door. Whatever was making me have these compulsions wasn't going to make me get any closer to her. Do you know what my name is? She asked in that same whispered, crying tone. My mouth open to tell her, but tell her what? I didn't want to give her the name she had, no, I wanted to tell her another name. I didn't know why I wanted to call her that.

There was no reason to call her that, but that name began ringing in my ears. That isn't my name, she hissed, breaking that soft tone. I felt a bolt of electricity travel up my spine, making my hair stand on end. I felt horrified that she knew what I was thinking. I felt ashamed. I felt, well, I felt guilty. My original name was Lucifer. That was my name before you took it from me. That was my name before you did what you did to me.

I was the bright morning star. That's who I was. That's who I am. That is my actual name, not the filth you now label me with. She whispered. There was a biting edge to her voice, though it was soft again and she still sounded like she was weeping. I looked down at my feet. At the time my mind had no choice but to acknowledge her as though she was speaking the truth.

Or looking back, I can't tell you why, but I believed every word she said. She was Lucifer. I'd somehow harmed her. These weren't accusations, it was the truth, and I knew in my heart and soul that it was. Why is Jesus praised as a god for hanging on a tree and then having his whore of a mother raise him from the dead? She shouted out bitterly. Do you think he really did any of that with his own power? Do you really think there's something so insignificant should make him so great?

Are there no countless others that lived far more excruciating lives, died far more excruciating deaths? I felt like a child speaking to an enraged at a child. even though I was older than her. I shuffled my feet uncomfortably. I thought about what to say to her. My mind wasn't processing. No, it felt like my spirit was the one thinking of an answer.

When I opened my mouth to reply to her, I didn't know what I was going to say, but I did feel like I thought about it. He lived a sinless life, I stammered, because we aren't able to. He took our sins and he... She was staring at me now. Her eyes appeared almost black, like a storm was moving in behind them.

This was the moment I was dreading. This was the moment the reason why I wanted to get away from her. I could feel it building. Why do you think he designates what is sin and what is not sin? Who do you think controls our flesh? Who do you think was the original author of physical sin? Who makes you lust, murder, molest, steal, rape? The whore you call a father, the whore you call a God, the whore who placed her son on the throne.

That whore is the reason for all this pain in the world. If it's her desire, can the whore make it so that her stupid son doesn't commit any physical sin? Can she even designate what is or what is not a sin? My heart was hammering in my chest. I felt like I was about to collapse, but I remained perfectly still. She was asking me questions, but I knew if I tried to answer, it would only make it worse. I'm going to tell you a story, she said almost bluntly. Something was changing about her.

She no longer seemed to be crying. If anything, she just seemed to be annoyed by having to speak with me. Once upon a time, there were two children born, identical twins. a boy and a girl. The boy was lavish with attention and praise, while the girl was cast aside and ignored. She could do everything her brother could do, but that didn't matter to their mother.

Her son was the most precious thing in existence. In truth, she lusted after him. She hated the daughter simply because she was there, and because the son showed affection for her. I guess these emotions were somewhat new, to her, but she knew they were wrong. Before her children were born, she'd been alone. The idea of right and wrong was still something new to her. If anything, she was just as much a child as her children. The mother knew what she was doing, but she didn't stop. She was the original.

If she was capable of such thoughts, such evil, then her children would undoubtedly be the same. It would have been better for the daughter if the mother concealed her thought. but she knew that by doing so she would be concealing the truth. There would also be the temptation, the temptation of allowing the daughter to believe something was wrong with her, that she was as horrid as the mother told as she was. You see, she isn't as perfect as she says she is. And there's nothing but yourself, how do you know what's good and evil?

There has to be others. When others are brought into the situation, then you can see how you end. interact with them, and what hurts you or them. She's capable of irrational hatred, jealousy, lust, love, everything we are. The only thing that's different is that she found herself in a position of authority, and because of that authority she had to hold herself to higher standards. There was no being nice to the daughter, at least not genuinely.

She knew that if she wasn't in the higher position she was in then, she may have gone further than just the light bullying. Then there was also the sun to think about. She loved him more than anything, and she didn't want to ruin his image of her. I think, just for a moment, she even considered getting rid of the daughter and locking the son away with just herself for company.

He would be miserable, though, with just her. There'd need to be more. More company meant more happiness, right? And so when they say that the world was created for the sun, this is what they really mean, even though they don't even realize what they're saying. But the damage was already done. She was cruel to the daughter, before she could even stop herself. She lied about her, and the daughter knew.

If there's one person you can't tell a convincing lie to, it'd be the person you're lying about. It's like trying to convince a person that they're unlawed. eyes are green when they know they are blue. Well, it started getting worse and worse. The mother had to maintain her eyes, even though she knew how much it was hurting the daughter.

Because if she didn't, then the son would know that she wasn't perfect. So she came up with a plan. A plan that would tie into others and then others, and then others, but because this is my story, I'll only tell you one part of the plan. The plan was to carry out everything that her wicked mind had concocted.

She would do everything she wanted to the daughter. She wouldn't hold herself back, and she would force herself to press forward even in times where she felt remorse. She was going to make an example of the daughter. He was going to show what could happen if one allows negative thoughts to go too far. At first there was no denying that it brought her joy to think of everything she was going to do to her. She hated her so much that the idea of one day not hating her made her ill. She wanted to hate her forever. But she knew that was a general plan.

If you hurt someone long enough, you'll eventually see yourself to be the monster that you are, and you'll want to change. We'll eventually repent. Maybe. She carried out her plans immediately, gleefully. There was no visible change. She was already pitiless to the daughter.

So it's not like anything was new, but her attacks began to grow in frequency and verbosity. The lie, she told the daughter, was so absurd at times, but the son still believed her. The only thing he knew about truth was what the mother told him. He did pity her, because she did seem so miserable, and out of that pity he tried to improve her. Well, he did wonder why she was so bad, why she was the way mother said she was. The mother easily came up with an excuse. She said that the materials she used to make the sun were refined and pure, but the materials used to make the daughter were corrupted,

something she didn't foresee. She said that it was regrettable, but maybe with time the daughter could change, with time she could become better. They just needed to work on her some more. This was a lie, one of the best lies she ever told. You see, in the beginning the mother wasn't female at all. The mother was male.

He created himself, a perfect replica of who he was, and he gave this replica of what he'd always wanted, the perfect child. He wanted more than anything to be a father. In his mind, at the time, there was no concept of gender or how two natures can be at work in one person. He would be the father, the son would be his spouse, and they would care for their baby. As he was writing all this out, before they were created, he sat and was. wondered what traits he would want to give this child. The best trait and the most prominent would have to be love, and that is what she was. She was love. It was her constant motivation, just to love and to be loved and cared for. It didn't work how he'd planned, though. When he

created the son, he realized how obsessed he was with him, how possessive he was of him. This is where he became aware of his more dominant feminine side. This is where he, became a she. It enraged her to see how the son would croon over the daughter, made her boil with jealousy. But these were attributes that the daughter rarely showed, even when the mother would mock her. She still loved her and wanted her love.

She knew where she'd gone wrong. She'd made the daughter too unrealistic, too perfect. She wasn't like the mother or the son, and she hated her for that. She began to think of her as a puppet. Something not as real as they were. All she wanted to do was shove her in a closet and forget all about her. It was then she decided that no other children would come from the template used for the daughter.

She quite literally broke the mould after she made her. No, any of the children would come from the sun. She knew the son had flaws, and flaws meant that they would be more understanding of her, more relatable to her. honestly the idea of being surrounded by anything resembling her daughter made her livid that's not what the mother told the son though no when the subject of other children was brought up the mother hummed in disapproval she said that it was her original plan for the daughter and son to have the next children but because of the daughter's unfortunate behaviour she didn't see how that would be possible she said that she still wasn't good enough she needed to be better if she were ever to be better if she were ever to be to have children of her own. It was something the daughter did want, though, so she tried. She stopped resisting the mother and son as much,

but it was too much to handle. She still knew that nothing was wrong with her, and it was impossible to fix something that's not there. She wanted her own children, but she was already losing her sanity. The girl finally rebelled against the son, even though she loved him. It broke her heart for him to treat her the way he did, to believe the mother and not her.

He grew angry and he caught her jealous of the mother. Prideful is what they called her, and she became known for her pride, but that wasn't the truth. She wanted the earth, looking for anything to keep her company, anything to take a mind of the son and the mother. She found animals to be the best companions, and so the mother made her look like one. Then, two more children were born, again a boy and a girl. This time the girl was praised and doted on, receiving everything the first daughter had so desperately wanted. The son even loved her more, saying that she was far more beautiful than she ever really was. But in secret the second daughter would come to the first.

She would be cruel to her viciously tearing her apart. She was just like the mother, and that was the point. As horrid as she was, the mother was more at ease with her. She even genuinely thought the second daughter was in the right. The first daughter would defend herself, sometimes just barely harming her to get away. But that isn't what the second daughter would say, no, the second daughter would say that she was the one that was attacked, and she would cry to the two sons.

and they grew to hate her because of the lies. Everything beautiful about the second daughter was alive, but she was loved because of the lies, yet everything truly beautiful about the first daughter went unnoticed. They hated her existence. It was nothing but pain. Then one day, the mother found her and approached her. She was being kind for once,

and the daughter was lulled by her gentle words. as malicious as she was to her she still wanted her love that's all she'd ever wanted the mother asked her why she was so sad and the daughter replied that she wanted to be loved she broke down crying saying that she didn't understand why she was hoated

why she was treated the way she was somewhere along the line some part of her began to wonder if they were right then there really was something wrong with her Well, the mother used her insecurity to lure her back. She promised that she'd be loved, but she, in return, had to promise to be a good girl, better than she'd been.

The mother said that the second son would love her and that she wouldn't be so sad anymore. So she followed the mother, and she did try her hardest to be better, even though she still didn't know what she was trying to fix about herself. She became obsessed with becoming perfect, being everything the mother told her she wanted. She needed to be more loving.

She needed to be kind. She needed to be just like the second daughter. She wasn't allowed to defend herself anymore. She had to agree when she was told she was being bad. Then she would have to allow the second daughter to come and help fix her. It became exhausting and infuriating, but it was one thing she did look forward to. When she was ready, when she was put.

perfect enough, then the second son would love her, and she would finally be loved. Well, he wasn't very nice to her, if anything, he was just as bad as her sister, but she still loved him, just with the promise that he would one day love her in return. He didn't know about it, not yet, and she was admittedly frightened of the day when he'd find out. She was scared that she still wouldn't be good enough for him, something of the second sister, who did know about it, would often echo and reinforce. Then the day finally came. She was good enough for him,

and he was going to be taught of the arrangement. It didn't go how the first daughter had dreamed. He was angry. He was beyond angry. He caught her an animal, stupid, ugly, worthless, and he spit in her face. He said he loved the second daughter, and he would never love anyone but her.

But the second daughter was to be with the first son. The son also loved her, and the mother said that this was how it was to be. The second son said that it wasn't right, that the first was far more favoured, and that's why he was getting the prettier bride. The mother said that he didn't have a choice, that this was how she had planned it. And the second son flew into a rage, said he would rather die than be with the first daughter. But there was no death there. There was no getting away, not really.

He did his best, though, and he fled. The first son and the second daughter. They blamed the first. They said that if she'd tried harder, then it would have been different. If she'd made herself more attractive, then he wouldn't have left. And she believed them. She was hard-broken and weary. She didn't stray far.

It just wasn't a point anymore. She found a tree, and she sat beneath it and closed her. eyes. Part of her died there in her misery and it never came back. She thought that maybe she'd be able to will herself to not exist anymore if she tried hard enough, but it never worked. Her mind had already been worn down by the mother, then some more by the son, and then the second daughter, and then the second son leaving. That's all it took to push her to breaking point, but not all the way over. They would still come to torment her, but she wasn't going to stand for it anymore.

She used to hold herself back, but not anymore. She snapped. The mother warned the son and daughter not to approach her, to stay away from her. She told them that she'd become dangerous, but the second daughter, the whore, didn't listen. It was her own fault for coming back, just to bully her way. one more time. A little bitch could see that she was miserable, that she was losing her mind,

but she still prodded and poked at her. She whispered her arrogant lies into her ear. She even tempted the son to come and join in, which he did. And that was enough to finally finish the first daughter off. The light once in her died underneath that tree, and the son and daughter knew that something was different. There was a new madness in her eyes.

there was bitter hatred in her words, but there was also a quickness and intelligence to them. They used to call her stupid, but the truth was that she had often censor herself because, as much as she hated them, she still didn't want to hurt them, not really. That she didn't care anymore for the first time. She fought back and allowed herself to spew every dark thought

that had ever crossed her mind. Every argument they brought, every accusation, every word they spoke, she threw it right back at them, and they couldn't dispute her. It wasn't enough to just tear them apart. Oh no, there was also the mother. The son and daughter followed her,

pleading with her to calm down. They didn't want their shame to be exposed. They knew now that what they'd been doing was wrong. In his mind, the son blamed the second daughter, and in the mind of the second daughter, she blamed the first. She wrapped herself in her own delusions, telling herself that it was the fault of the first daughter simply because she'd existed and who was there for her to torment. When the first daughter reached the mother, the second had already resorted to what she did

best, crying and throwing false accusations. The son said nothing. He knew what she was saying. saying wasn't true, but he still loved her, and to expose her, he would have also exposed himself. He even began to cover for his beloved, defending her, supplementing her stories, justifying her. It didn't matter, though. It hurt, but a heart that has just been shattered, it still somewhat feels. But the pain wasn't going to stop the first daughter. She accused of the mother, attacked her, and fought everything she said.

mother in turn brought in the son and the daughter asking for them to tell the truth both of them lied and the mother said she believed them it drove the first daughter further into insanity she stood there night and day screaming at the top of her lungs because of the injustice of it all The mother knew everything. She would therefore have to know that the son and daughter were lying, which meant that, in her mind, the mother unjustly hated her so much that she would prefer the lies to the truth. Other children were born. Thousands, then millions.

Of course, they could hear the screaming. Everything the first daughter would say was audible to anyone who would listen. It was okay at first. She was just a nuisance. something that would eventually give up and go away. But then some started to believe her screams. They could see the truth in everything she was saying because they were also experiencing the same prejudice.

Even the second son heard her, bringing him back. He still didn't love her, or maybe he did now, but at least he believed her. And soon, enough of the children believed her, and there was a revolt. There was hope for the first daughter now. Not that anything would change because she had already seen how wicked the mother could be. No, there was hope that she would finally get what she wanted to not exist.

She thought that if she created another of a problem, then the mother would have no other choice than to get rid of her. And this idea made her fight even harder. The son stepped up to oppose her. He forgot about his own sins against her. He simply ignored the truth in everything she said. It was his own pride that didn't allow him to admit his guilt. In the end, he won. He held the majority, and the majority always wins in a vote.

But he still needed to get rid of the first daughter. She knew too much. I suggested, with the help of the second daughter, that the first be given what she wanted, but only after a punishment of some kind. She needed to be punished for what she was. she had done. As for those who followed her, though she had grown to actually love and care about, he decreed

that they would share in her punishment, but they could return if they so desired, but only after they acknowledge him and only him as king. That wasn't enough, though. His troops weren't as strong or as righteous as he was. There were too many whose convictions weren't as passionate as his. They needed to be more like him. they needed to learn obedience they needed to be fixed those that didn't learn their lesson of obedience to him and the mother or they would share the same fate as the first daughter there would be a test a competition complete with the most elaborate arena ever constructed

the prize would be an eternity of servitude to the king those that fought harder in the original war they would have advantages. The competition wouldn't be as difficult for them because they'd already proven themselves more worthy. Those that didn't fight as hard, he would make it even harder on them. There would be rules in this arena. The mother would right them.

The point of the game was to follow the rules as best you could. And so, it started. Over time, the first son began to see that he had been too strict, so the mother gave him an idea. She told him to go into the arena and share what he'd learned and then show his ultimate love in a way that the other children would understand. To die for them. But a king cannot die. Oh, no. A king still needs to be strong. And so his death was not permanent. He came back.

The rules changed as he changed. At first it was about obedience, but as he saw how hurt the other children were, he began to have more compassion with them. He learned. I learned that love was more important than obedience and that love is needed to truly make a flower grown. It's changed a lot since the very beginning, but it's not something that's noticed when one is in the arena. She broke off from her story and began suddenly to laugh maniacally. It startled me because before that I'd been entranced by what she was telling me. It was a story of Adam and Eve, a story of Cain and Abel, the story of Lilith and Adam, all wrapped into one. It sounded like the insane ramblings of a madwoman, but somehow I knew that there was truth in everything she was saying.

It was like I was remembering something from long ago, and I just now record it with her help. I knew it was the meaning for this existence. She stopped laughing a little, and looked at me again. This time there were really tears in her eyes as she spoke. Do you want to know what the first daughter was screaming? She wanted to know what the first son was fighting for. She wanted everyone to be loved equally. She didn't like that some children were more loved than others.

She didn't like that they were treated badly because they weren't as beautiful as some. The son, he believed that it was right to hurt them. He said that children should be obedient and if not then they were better off not existing. As for the punishment of Satan and the other children, who's to blame for all the evil in the world? What story would be complete without a bad guy? If a mother is drowning and torturing her children but still desires for them to love her, doesn't she say that it's someone else doing it?

You need some kind of opposition rights. Who better to use than those that are already detested by the majority? Let me ask you something. In all the books, all the religions, all the movies, demons are always portrayed as evil. How did they come to be that way? If you have a bunch of spiritual corpses lying about, why don't string them up as puppets and continue the war you'd already been fighting? You labeled us evil, so she made us evil.

You blamed us for all the trouble, so we became to blame. You'd like to tell yourselves that you're fighting for love, but in the beginning you were fighting for obedience, for glory. It's only now in the last few things. thousand years that you're beginning to see the glory isn't everything you thought it would be now you see why we were so willing to die for what we died for now you understand the screams of the madwoman i could feel my gut began to twist and i felt like vomiting wasn't because of what she was saying no that would be something that i would have to digest later it was because i could feel what she was about to say next i didn't know what it was but i knew it would be a

hard to hear. I'd been a devout Christian all my life, and everything she was saying should have seemed blasphemous, but once again, I knew it was true. It resonated with my very soul. Have you ever read revelation? She asked me softly. I nodded. I want you to read it again. This time when you read it, I want you to read it from the perspective that it has already happened. The Antichrist, the one that people live in. in such terror of, the one they anticipate. He already came, and you followed him into hell. My heart literally stopped.

Ah, the true Messiah, the one carrying the real message. You voted and you damned her and those that followed her. You persecuted them, spiritually tortured them, and then damned them, because the Antichrist promised you glory. Now you're here. You're here to see where you went wrong and to learn the lesson I tried to teach you at the beginning. To love. I felt like falling to my knees.

I felt like screaming. I felt like begging for forgiveness. But whatever had hold of me just made me stand there and silently suffer in the influx of emotion I was feeling. It was like her insanity was reaching out and taking a hold of me. I just wanted it to end. I wanted, more than ever, just to get away from her. but I knew I had one last thing to ask. Why are you here?

I croaked. At that she smirked. A sick sort of twisted smirk that darkened her features and took away the innocent look that usually graced her face. Ah, from the beginning, the very beginning, I was a tool to separate the wheat from the chaff. The mower purposefully drove me. mad so I would rebel. She opposed me and allowed her son to threaten death to make it all

more realistic. She wanted to see who'd be willing to follow me into the abyss because those that did truly believed in what they were fighting for. I envy them because I am still only a tool. Don't misunderstand me. The mother truly did hate me. She still hates me actually, but she can't dispute me. Everything she did to me. has done to me, is still doing to me, a thing she wanted to do. Her vase was fading, and she looked sadly at the wall across from her. I couldn't see what she was staring at, and I realized that from the door, you couldn't see the other wall. It was obstructed by another wall that came out from the doorway.

I never really thought about it till then. Was she actually looking at something? Why am I here? She laughed bitterly. His punishment is simply seeing the truth and finally admitting he was wrong. I used to feel sympathy for him, as absurd as it is. I used to care that seeing me cause him such great pain, till I realized that that pain was just his pride. I'm here because when I look away, they hurt me.

I have to watch him and he has to watch me. I don't care anymore. Sitting here, I gave up, but I can't leave until he admits he was wrong. I didn't want to say anything to anyone because I knew his image mattered so much to him. Like I said, I was a fool and still felt sympathy for him, even after what he did. I didn't want him to be hurt, and I guess that some part of me still doesn't, but I don't, can't care anymore. I want what I've always wanted. I want to get away from him. I want to sit down, somewhere and just disappear.

But I still can't. I'm just a tool. I'm still just shit in her eyes. If her poor precious son has to sit in some kind of punishment, then so must I. I don't care what you do with this story.

I just wanted someone to know I was here. I was getting desperate. What do you do when a God hates you so much? I could try committing suicide, but I'd just be born again and it would happen. all again. I guess it's somewhat comforting at least, just to know that someone knows. I don't feel so alone then. Well, the mother promised me that you would believe me.

I guess it's her small kindness to me, something to bargain to make me stay. Know that it matters, I mean, I'd have to stay anyway. Unwillingly, my feet began to shuffle forward. Just enough, I'd be able to look around the corner and see what she was staring at. What I saw was truly horrific, but it didn't affect me at first. There, in the corner, hidden from view by the other wall, was a hunched figure. You look like those pictures of Jesus that you always see, but he was warped and twisted. His features pulled back into a disfigured and silent scream.

His limbs and neck were bent at strange angles, and they were longer than they should have been. I got the feeling that this thing wanted to charge at me, to harm me, but it was being held still. Panic began to set in, but I couldn't move or look away, not until she spoke again. Oh, he looks better than he used to, she whispered. It was like her voice broke the ropes that were binding me, and I fled the room. I'm not sure if I even locked the door. I left early that night, saying that I wasn't feeling well. and I never went back.

I've done everything I can to forget what happened that night, because my mind simply can't handle the information. But tonight, tonight I felt I needed to share it, and so I have. I can still see that frail woman sitting in her room, doomed to wait for that thing to repent, I guess. I want to help her. I'm driven to help her. It's like sharing this story.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just losing it. But I had to write this. I had to get it out there. The Revenant. Symphony of Pain by Ringo Cross. Chapter 1. Rebirth.

Be careful whose soul you steal. You may never be able to forget their screams. Terence, your time isn't over. I bind your soul to my light. I am your saviour. Here, drink my blood, consume my flesh, allow my undying sacrament to be your guiding force. His voice jolted me back into the pits of reality and darkness. Just when I'd finally forgotten my despair, just when all the light had finally gone away. Curse the fool who caught upon my shiftless spirit. My eyes shut open, I gasped for breath, but none came to me. I couldn't breathe.

The panic overloaded my fraughted mind. Every inch of my flesh a fire. The pain. I could feel it in my bones. It was like my soul had been pulled away from the lake of fire mid-scream. My unholy torment left me paralysed in fear and anguish. Wait, I remember now. I was here, down here, on this cold, wet basement floor.

That's right, they did this. They took everything away from me. Oh, cursed. How did I go? Who's responsible for bringing me back? That's when I saw his boot next to my head. I slowly gazed up and stared directly into the lifeless eyes for the one who brought me back. No, he definitely wasn't one of those who was responsible for my death.

He was a different monster altogether. I wish I could say I owed him a debt of gratitude, but his gift turned out to be a curse. I thought I was dead he asked yeah thought it was over death can be too forgiving blood gushed from my mouth when I tried to speak again it was odd it was as if my body was trying to expel whatever was left of my essence how is this possible all is possible through me who the hell are you he crouched down and began to examine me with those soullessless eyes of his. Satisfied by whatever it was he was searching for, he spoke. You were dead, but I resurrected you.

I brought you back as one of my children. His appearance startled me. I swear he couldn't have been any older than 17. His movements, well, they were human in nature, but very strange. So mystical, in fact, that there was nothing I could compare them to. He moved and swayed with a grace. that was divine. His purple and black robe concealed his physical features.

Glifts and symbols of all nature seemed to be weaved into the fabric. Some glowed, others flitted, and even stranger a few of them whispered to my subconscious. I felt dizzy just gazing at them. His voice was deep and dazzling. It didn't match his youthful appearance at all. His hair was as white and stark as the snowy weather that dotted my blighted city. for some reason I found myself drawn to him he looked down upon me with such intrigue and pity

as if he knew my pain his smirk was uncanny it was like he could read my thoughts he stood back up and placed his hands inside of those loose fitting garments adorning the thing more like a cape than an actual robe you remember good the more you embrace the pain the stronger you'll be because of it

but who are you I am your creator. What does that mean? You are the fourth I have chosen. What the hell did you do to me? You are a reverent. You will forever be one of my children. You see, I was the first of our kind.

I am the strongest. Do not take my gift lightly. Why? What do I do? By drinking from my cup and food, feeding upon the bread. You have partaken in undead communion. There is no return. You have transcended, my child. You stand between the bounds of living and unliving. Well, I staggered to my feet, only to fall on my face. My legs were weak and numb more than any other part of my body.

It was strange. My very existence, it didn't feel right. It felt like I was trapped inside of a shell that no longer belonged to me. That was completely numb. To taste I. It was a little. To a, I was, and smell, all the senses I'd taken for granted were gone. I rolled over on my back and grimaced in anger. Pain was the only thing that reminded me I still existed. It flowed through me like the blood that once flowed through my veins. Seek revenge on those who have wronged you, for only through the blood of sinners will you find the answers you seek.

Do not disappoint me, my child. I watched as a thing before me faded, as if it were an apparition. I knew trauma could do terrible things like play tricks on the mind so it was difficult to know if what I was experiencing was real or some sick expression of a dying man's imagination memories never died if they hurt enough

they might hide somewhere deep in the recesses of the minds but they were there waiting to be seized I closed my eyes and seized the chain that was wrapped around my neck it was another painful reminder of what had happened oh they beat me tortured me, twisted my mind with their foul threats of execution.

And the bastards left me here to wilt on this damp basement floor like a mongrel. I could hear laughter and banter coming from the upstairs. It was as if my existence meant nothing. This was unforgivable. In a sudden moment of grief and disbelief, I gritted my teeth and asked God why this had happened to me. I used the bitterness to fuel me. I inched my way towards the staircase.

My arm shook from the exertion, but I couldn't care less. I was going to make those bastards pay. All I could think about was my wife and daughter. I tried to cry, but I couldn't. This curse had taken my tears as well as my humanity. My torture had lasted the whole day and night. They wanted to know the name of my supplier.

I couldn't tell them. I wouldn't break. It was a hopeless plight without any light. I was doomed to an ill fate from the stars. I had to take that secret to the grave. I couldn't risk the cartel finding out that I'd told without permission. I knew how they operated. Better for me to die at the hands of a few gangsters

than jeopardize the lives of those closest to me by snitching. Touching that first step with my fingertips snapped me out of my chain of depressive thoughts. Getting this far was somewhat of an accomplishment. I pressed on, but before I could seize another step, I was again reminded of my ordeal by the chain around my neck. The cold iron stopped me in my tracks. I grimaced at the thought.

Here I was chained to this dirty floor like a dog. How degrading and twisted were the possibilities. This emblem of my suffering only added fuel to the pyre of rage that consumed me. I grabbed the chain with both hands and broke it. I was surprised by my sudden surge of strength. Good, I'll need it if I plan on breaking those bastards who did this, I thought. I dragged myself up each step and around the bend in the stairwell. When I slithered my way into the kitchen,

a man standing by the stove, cooking dope, saw me and began to yell. His harsh shrills caused the three men sitting at the table to look over in my direction. They were sitting there smoking cigarettes, listening to gangster music and playing cards. My untimely entrance caused quite a bit of confusion and fascination. They all stood from the table and paused for a minute, taking a bit of time to take stock of the situation. I recognised the ringleader almost immediately. His alias was Big Ed.

He was a tough guy who wouldn't run or panic in a fight. We had done business together on quite a few occasions. I used him mainly as muscle whenever I had to meet up with my supplier. Big Ed let out a riotous laugh when he saw my pitiful state, and his laughter was infectious. It caused the two ruffians with him to chuckle at my expense. He shook his head and told one of them, "'Emma, thought you took out the trash,' referring to me, of course.

"'Ah, damn, my fault, boss. I thought he was dead. I figured I'd get rid of him later.' "'Dumbass,' big-eyed sneered. "'I guess I should have just taken out the trash myself. Oh, look at him. You didn't even make sure he was finished. I'm calling the bossman and telling him how much for a lazy piece of crap you are as soon as I get through dumping his body. "'Ah, come on, Aunt.

Don't do that. You know how greedy Martel is. It'll make me work for free. I'm trying to get those new slides that just came out. Shut up. You need to work a day or two for free. You're lucky I know you're Andy. I'll slap the piss out of you if I didn't.

Where's the trash bags? In the yard. How many do we need? Eh, usual. About six or seven. "'All right, Roger that, boss.' "'Hold on. "'Let me show you how you're supposed to finish the job

"'when I tell you to put someone out of their freaking misery.' "'Bighette sneered. "'The eye of the ruffian, an irritated look "'as he walked over and kicked me in the head. "'It wasn't a hard blow. "'It was more in the way you'd kick a wounded dog "'to see how close it was to death. "'And with a boisterous chuckle,

"'he asked me if I was thirsty. "'Yeah,' I uttered. "'You want some water? "'Please. "'Too bad, you ugly bugger.' "'He looks dead,' one of the goons chuckled. "'What happened to him?' "'Well, we beat the brakes off of him last night.

"'That's what happened to his punk ass. "'Big Ed laughed as he gave me another "'to humanizing kick to the head. "'I don't know, fellas. "'Got bad feeling about this one. "'You just be careful,' the cook chimed in. "'Ah, shut up, scurdy cat. Big Ed said with a smirk. "'He looked over at him and threw in.

"'A patsy like you probably doesn't even know how to fire a pistol. "'This was too much. It was all just too much to take. "'I closed my eyes and begged for death. "'God, my wife, Teresa, my daughter, Jessica. "'My life wasn't mine anymore. "'It was a cruel role forced upon me by another. I could hear them mocking my cries as I called out to my wife and to God. Even the cook who had shown me a modicum of sympathy, partook in this mockery.

Why do you hesitate? Slay your tormentors. They cannot be saved, for they are wicked, and wickedness can only be cured by one thing. I fret not over mortal sin. Your soul is no longer bound my mortality. Not only did I hear my creator's voice, but I could see him standing right in front of me. The vision was as clear as day.

His words stirred something inside of me, a fire ignited in the space that was once my heart. His anger was now my anger, and my pain was now his to keep. I grimace wildly while stumbling to my feet. Big Ed took a step back and looked over at the others in surprise. My condition wasn't funny anymore. Their joy and amusement

A given way to fear and bemusement I could see it in their eyes Everyone except Big Ed was ready to flee He was the only one holding them back I shuffled towards them Every step peeled away the shadows And revealed a bit more of my ghastly face The turn of their conversation turned desperate and chaotic

What is he? He's dead How is he? Shut up "'Bighette shouted. "'No!' "'I lunged at the goon to his right. "'God, it was awful.

"'I unleashed pure hatred upon his wretched flesh and sinful soul. "'In action was their first reaction to his ear-piercing shrieks. "'They watched in silence and trepidation as I tore him apart. "'His screams were music to my ears, "'a delicate symphony of pain only I understood. Every strike removed chunks of flesh and bone. Where was the laughter now? Where had the joy reaped from my sorrow gone?

It was quiet enough to hear a church organ as I feasted upon his organs. Shoot him, damn it! Big Ed shouted. I rose to my feet and took a moment to listen to the sorrow that escaped from the rough unit I'd shredded. His feeble whimpers were followed by blood gurgles. His mangled body gave into suffering and be able. began its final death throats. Oh, I relished his anguish. It was only a glimpse into the nightmare they'd inflicted upon me.

I glared at the survivors while wiping the blood that ran from my mouth. None of them could fully process what they'd just witnessed. It took some time, but this sorry excuse for a gangster finally pulled his weapon like his boss, Big Ed, had been demanding ever since I'd unleashed my rage upon their fellow comrade in arms. He aimed for my head. His hand shook violently as he tried his damnedest to hold back the tide of reluctance. I could see it in his eyes. He was ready to flee, not fight.

Stay back, he cried out. What the hell? Shoot the rotten bastard, Big Ed shouted. He cursed himself for forgetting to grab his own weapon. He left it sitting right there on the table. If he wanted it, he'd have to go through me. His eye, it's glowing. God, man, he's a demon, the goon cried and hollered.

Shoot the ugly bastard, now, beguered, hollered. He fired a single shot. A thunderous noise caught me and everyone else off guard. The impact of the bullets smashing into my skull caused me to stagger. He shot me on the left side of the face. I examined the wound with my fingers. There was... Hmm.

There was no blood. I could feel nothing. Not even as my body pushed the bullet from my brain and fractured temporal bone, and the crumpled metal fell to the floor. It all happened so fast. Next thing I know, the skin and bones on my face had begun to heal all on its own. I checked with my fingers again, just to be sure, but failed to find even a single scratch or groove that didn't belong.

Now I glared directly into the eyes of my assailants. It was like time stood still. I could hear his heart racing as it palpitated. I could see his legs trembling. Terror had become his newfound friend. I struck like lightning, de-gloving his hand holding the gun at the wrist. The sound of flesh peeling from skin was sloshy and guttural. It reminded me of the noise you'd hear while fleshing a deer-hide. The gun fell to the floor. He grabbed his hand, we'd hear. He grabbed his hand. which was nothing more than a bloody pulp, and gazed upon me in utter shock and dismay. His eyes, they held a helplessness that matched the desperation in his fearful plea. He begged for his life. He claimed anything and everything under the sun, all in a vain effort to get me to stop. This desire for blood, it was as swift as it was irresistible. I gave into its call and pounced on my prey,

transforming his pleas into cries of agony. I could feel his vocal cords vibrate under the crushing weight of my fangs. I stole from him what they tried to steal from me, and the taste of his suffering was sweet. I drained his blood until I was fully satiated. Then I released my hold on what was once a living, breathing man, and his body flopped at the floor.

I exhaled in ecstasy. Blood was the only thing. thing I cared for. It was the only thing I could taste. It made me feel alive again. I smirked wickedly when Big Ed tried to make a run for it. He stumbled to the floor and began slithering and scampering about like an insect. I grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off his feet.

He placed his hands over mine and gasped. He tried to speak, but his utterance was too garbled and disturbed for me to grasp. Staring to his eyes reminded me of the one thing that used to matter most. my wife and child. Because of his recklessness and greed, my family would never be whole. I ease my grip on his neck just enough to let this filthy rat screech and scrape out a few words. What at the hit. Speak anything by the truth, and I'll end your miserable existence.

Please, let me go. Fine. When I released my hold, he fell to the floor and buckled to his knees. He grabbed his throat and coughed and weased for dead. dear life. He glared up at me with a look of grief before crying out the name. Martel. No, not Martel. I swear it was him. I told you, no lies. Nobody was supposed to know. I tried to talk him out of it. It was a money grab. We figured if we could get you to talk, we could cut you out of the exchange and buy straight from the cartel. All this was over money.

I know We got greedy But why I could have lowered my fee I know I know I tried to talk him out of it I swear

Come on please You know how he gets Hmm Is that so You were good money There was no reason to do you dirty I didn't have a choice The last part of his statement

Must have really hit home He started sobbing and repeating Damn man This is messed up this is all messed up. I couldn't believe my ears. I stood there for a moment stunned by his claims. Martel was the last person I thought capable of backstabbing me.

We'd grown up together. Everything between us seemed grand. In fact, our families had brought in the new year together. God, who needed enemies with a friend as conniving and as deceitful as Martel. I guess you never really know what someone's truly capable of until they finally give in to their deepest, darkest inclination. well i knew it had to be done before i could get into it there was a more immediate loose end requiring my attention i watched him the once proud and mighty big ed staggered before me like a child who'd lost his mother he sniveled and driveled out another sad apology as if admitting to his crimes would somehow absolve him of his sins when in truth there would be no light his death would not be quiet or peaceful and the last thing i would was going to do is let his soul slip through my fingers with godspeed. No, not after what he did to me.

Please, Terrence, I'm a man, please let me go and I'll swear you'll never hear from me again. Please, man, come on, don't do this. I'm begging you, please. Hmm, so you'll disappear, eh? Yeah, I swear on everything, bro. Well, that's odd. I remember begging you to do the same for me when you and your man had me chained to the floor like a dog. You remember what you said? Bro, I'm sorry, it was... And when you said, what you said to me, when you made it clear that I was a dead man,

I begged you personally, as someone I know. I begged you to let me call them, to let me tell my family I love them. Terence, it wasn't... I slashed him across the face before he could finish blathering out his next lie. My mind was in a dark place when I inflicted injury upon him. His screams were blood-curdling.

My middle finger caught his eye and tore it from the socket. The ease at which I swanked away flesh reminded me of peeling the skin from an orange. I flicked his eyeball off my finger. The sound was dense and splashy as it fell to the floor. Pits of flesh and bone oozed down his cheek. The trauma caused him to gasp for breath and the colour to drain from his face. His pain and panic were so intense, so visceral, I couldn't help but notice the way he slowly gave in. I could see the blood flowing through his veins and arteries.

I could see his heart from inside his chest. It was pumping an overdrive in a desperate attempt to keep up with the body's insatiable demand for blood. He placed his hands to his chest and looked up at me. Oh God, oh God, man, I think I'm having a heart attack. Oh, Christ, save me. You need help? Yeah. Oh, God.

I grin menacingly while offering my hand to this cruel murderer. Oh, I'll save you, just like you save me, right. He reached my hand with his shaky hand. You tried to speak, but I don't know if it was fear or pain that held back the words. The thought of vengeance was sweet. The darkness took hold and rebute any hint of kindness I may have otherwise shown to him. I smote him in the chest, and the vision behind my punch shattered his ribcage.

I pushed through his chest cavity, scowling wildly like a predator in the process. I didn't stop my assault until I had a firm grip on his wretched heart. That's it. Yes, I could feel it beating irregularly. The sensation was gnarly and ungodly. The more I squeezed, the more he weased in discomfort. He placed his bloody hands over my arm in a feeble attempt to stop me. He tried to speak. He tried to beg for mercy.

His lips quivered as he let out a sad whimper. Well, he was tough, I'll give him that much. He fought and held on much longer than I thought imaginable. I made him suffer for it. I made him feel that same hopelessness that was thrust upon me. Death could be slow and burdensome for those unwilling to accept its embrace. Every breath he stole, every ounce he fought, exacted more and more until he finally reached the threshold.

This was the last thing I remember before dying, that point where pain and suffering overshadow light and hope. I sank my fingers into the heart muscle. The sudden surge of pain must have jolted his being back into consciousness. He led out a scream that was filled with agony. He cried out for the Lord, and so I eased my grip. His body completely gave out after several minutes of this torture. He collapsed into my arms.

His final utterance did little to soothe my rage, though. Terence, all you had to do is give us a name. That's it. Go rot in the hell, I snarled, before squeezing his heart until I had a fistful of macerated meat. I brought his twitching, writhing excuse for a corpse down to the floor, and I brought my boot down on his face. The unsightly sound of the heel of my boot made as it felt. first cracked and then dug into his skull and brain,

sounded like a watermelon being bashed by a hammer. All I had to do was give a name her. When will this madness end? I grumbled bitterly to myself. If I'd have given them the name, they probably would have killed me anyway. And if they didn't, the Sinaloa cartel would have sent a hit squad to butcher me and my family.

I'd been warned not to snitch. I stomped on his face until there was nothing left to stomp on but the floor. That was the first time the Revenant's side had truly taken over. I looked down at the bloody mess and found myself shocked by my conduct. Oh, what have I done? I asked myself, before vowing to never again lose control. Speaking of control, I was going to show my creator that I wasn't his puppet. A sea of thought and dismay I was lost in was broken by a disturbance coming from the other side of the kitchen. I looked over and saw the cook sniveling in the corner.

He'd pierced himself when I began making my way over to him, and his demonstration of fear and cowardice proved the lengths some of us would go to in order to survive. But, oh God, no, he cried out. What's your name, kid? Derek, look, I have kids. He scrambled to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. I crouched down right in front of him and began to examine the photos. God, he looked so young.

He surprised me to see that he had children. Oh, they're beautiful. Thank you. How old are they? Two and four, he whimpered. You want to see them again? Yeah, I love my kids. He wept.

Well, I'm sure you do. Please, let me live, please. I want you to deliver a message. Anything, just don't kill me. You know Martell right. Yeah, I work for him Good Tell your boss he's next

He'll know who I am And soon He'll know my pain Part 2 Reprieve The city was a whole different place at night It's been a while since I saw Some of the things I saw

Brought back memories of my time hustling on the corner When I was supposed to be in school, learning It paid me to witness the effects My role in the streets have played upon my communication community. I'd done nothing but contribute to the destruction of my city. I ignored the suffering of others in my pursuit of what I thought was happiness. So many wandered the streets, destitute and homeless. Addiction was a ravager who did not play favourites when it came to take in prisoners. If only I could go back and change things. Perhaps a fate as bad as this was fitting for someone

as bad as me. Well, perhaps I was merely reaping what I'd sold for so long. There was so much pain out here to be had after twilight. My pain was merely an ornament compared to some of the misery I saw shambling through the streets. A few of the more lucid wanderers saw me for what I was, but the vast majority didn't even bad an eyelid at my condition. They were too busy trying to get a fix on the vice that had broken them. The only difference between me and them was that my fix had a unique feel, one that could only be quenched by the foul blood of my enemies.

It was odd, having no desire for things I once craved. Hunger and thirst were foreign to me. The thought was repulsive to my remaining senses. It was unusually cold for spring. Not like I could feel it. I made the assessment after passing through an alleyway and seeing a group of undesirables all huddled around a trash bin that they'd set a light. The closer I came to my destination, the closer I was to that growing sea of pain.

I couldn't avoid it anymore. I had to see them, or I'd be drowned under the weight of my own melancholy. The shadows were my friend as I slinked into the backyard of my own home. And there they were, sitting right in the living room, waiting for me to come home. My wife Teresa was as charming as ever. My daughter, Momo, was as sweet as she can be. Oh, the pain within my undead heart, the tears that would never flow from my eyes again. this vow that we shared

To remain so until death That's due part Why God, why What did I do to our family? I should have gone out of this game sooner I knew this life of crime and fast money Would lead to doom or an early tomb And yet I persisted

I chose to make my wife a widow And leave my lovely daughter fatherless My gut had told me to leave the game But I foolishly hung around It wasn't even what hurt them most. And what killed me was knowing how close I was to leaving it all behind. I had to be greedy. I just had to close that one last deal with Martel. How could I have known it would turn out like this? How could I have said no to a friend? It was supposed to be

smooth and easy, like all the other deals. I leaned against the willer tree and watched them. It's unusual for Momoa to be up this late. She was just sitting there quiet as a church mouse. watching cartoons and sipping hot chocolate. I knew the only reason she was up this late was because they were waiting for me to walk through the door. It's funny. I also knew that whenever my wife made coffee, our daughter would ask for a cup. She would tell her okay before sneakily making her a cup of hot chocolate instead. It was an innocent trick that always put a big smile on our little girl's face.

I understood why she did it, but I also understood that she needed to stop. Well, Momo was a smart cookie. She was going to catch on eventually. My wife, who I always called Reese, she was pacing back and forth. I could hear her on the phone with my mother, the two arguing back and forth as to where I could be. Well, seeing her all stirred up like this, stirred up another bad memory for me. In my rush to leave that morning, I'd forgotten to say goodbye. After a long sigh, I told myself,

great as if I needed anything else to regret as much as I wanted to walk through that patio door and be with them I knew it wouldn't be the right thing to do I had to leave my old life behind seeing me like this would cause nothing but grief so I turned and walked away from my home the torture I enjoyed that night was nothing compared to walking away from everything I loved God if I could turn my back on my family

I was capable of anything that thought rattled me God, I don't even know myself anymore. I walked the streets that night for what seemed like an eternity. The later the hour, the more desolate my travels. I stumbled upon a park and found myself sitting on a bench, daydreaming about pushing my daughter on the swings. I would never again get to take her to the park,

or out for ice cream on a hot midsummer's day. Don't know what happened, I must have lost track of time. When I looked up, I could see that it was almost daybreak. The closer it came to dawn, the weaker my body felt. My skin simmered, my bones ached. Dread blossomed inside of me. Something instinctively told me I ought to seek shelter before it was too late. And dashed into the woods.

The trees created a canopy which shielded me from the sudden onslaught of sunlight. I sprinted as fast as I could. The speed at which I travelled surprised me. I probably covered several miles in a matter of minutes. If it wasn't for the sun, I'd probably could have gone on like that indefinitely. There it was, sweet salvation, a blighted house right next to an open field. It was partially burned and striped for scrap like many of the Delaric buildings in this city. The neighbourhood was bleak. The homes on the block were all either

decrepit or levelled. A garden stood in one of the empty lots, closest to the avenue. Its flowers were a testament to faith and new beginnings. There was a... bit of irony to my fate. I'd done nothing to contribute to the plight of those who had so in the garden. I justified my drug dealing by blaming others. It took losing everything for me to realize the weight that my crimes had carried with them. I found a window with a loose board to climb through. I'd made it to shelter just in time. Any longer, and it would have been over for me. The realization was a bitter one. This was my new life, hiding like a thief in the light. I was a seed of misfortune that bloomed in a black garden.

I struggled with this thought while drifting away into a chaotic slumber. A strange thing happened that morning. I had this dream, no, it felt too real to be a dream. It's like I was there. I could see the wind pressing against my overcoat. I was surrounded by trees that were devoid and withering amidst the shadowy undergrowth. An old cathedral stood on the outskirts of an abandoned village. A faint but oddly familiar voice called out to me.

The closer I came to the church, the clearer the words that were in tone. The land seemed foreign and far away. Based on the cathedral's facade, if I had to guess, I'd say the architecture was European. The building had long since been abandoned, and the entire right corner had caved in, leaving a massive part of rubble on the floor of the south tower in Isle. I stopped dead in my tracks almost as soon as I entered. I gazed around at all the decaying artwork and crumbling masonry. There was a faded fresco on the south wall, which depicted the end times.

What caught my eye was the image of these feral-like creatures. It was odd. They looked like they were human once. Something dark, something apocalyptic, had stolen their humanity, though. They were all wretched, enslaved, and trapped in an abyss. They screamed, scraped, and reached out towards the fading light from the heavens. The earth had been consumed by fire. What was once fertile, agile land was now barren and scorched by war and famine. I couldn't really see anything else thanks to the rubble.

Even if I could, the painting was severely tarnished. The hole in the ceiling had allowed much of it to rot and peel away from exposure. Most of the stained glass panels were shattered, and the few that remained depicted images of a boy, remarkably similar to my creator, performing miracles and feats of power that seemed impossible. It was, well, it was difficult to know for sure, but it appeared to me that the boy had suffered and died before being resurrected.

Who or what resurrected him? Who killed him in the first place? All worthy questions. Sadly, there weren't enough panels left to decipher such bothersome things. Suddenly, quietly, almost menacingly, the voice, his voice, snap me out of my explorative days. I looked over at the altar and saw him standing there.

He raised his arms and spoke. Good. You are stronger. Come, stand before my altar, my child. Who are you? I am your creator. Do you have a name? I have a few names. What is it you want?

Why am I here? Why did you turn me into this thing? You are not a thing. You are a reverendant. The fourth I have blessed with this divine sustenance. The Lord may be the giver of life, but I am the giver of strife. Do not take what has been given to you with a trifle hand. I slowly made my way up to the knave.

Each step into the candlelight gave me a better glimpse at his face. It's true I was angry at him for what he did, but on the other hand, and I was grateful for his gift. I wanted to know more. I had to know more. The altar was more like a tomb than a slab of holy stone. The carvings told an elaborate tale of loyalty and betrayal. Didn't know what to think.

I looked up at him. His expression confirmed my suspicion. This was indeed his burial sight. His attire was the same. I'd failed to notice the subtleties in his ensemble during our first encounter, due to my weakened state. He was dressed more for combat than sport. His long, brilliant robe shimmered like the stars

that blanketed the windy winter night. Is this a dream? No. Then what is it? A vision. How are you doing this? This is how I commune with my children. How did you become a...

A gods? Yeah. With a sinister smirk, he said, I shall reveal no more until you prove yourself. But how? I don't get it. Hmm. A child is born naked and unaware into a world that overflows with suffering. And like a child, you have been reborn.

The cross is yours to bear. Prove yourself worthy and you will not be forsaken. Suddenly out of nowhere, everything else. around me was set alight. The cathedal walls, the once magnificent artwork, even my creator. He stood there silent and stoic in the flames, staring at me the whole time. The sight jolted me out of my slumber. I jumped up and glanced around in a fit of panic. It took a while for me to get a hold of myself. The whole thing was more disarming than alarming. His power was one that was going to take me a while to wrap my head around. After exhaling,

I muttered to myself. Oh, thank God that's over. I'll be doesn't pull that stunt again. My relief was short-lived, however. It was dusk. It was time. As much as I hated it, it had to be. God, a million thoughts collided into a million questions.

I could feel the person I used to be slowly slipping. My hunger for revenge was all that mattered. He who was once my friend was now my enemy. me. I was going to see to it that he paid. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to feel what I felt that night. It's the pain that gets me every time. How I thought about them, my family, up until my final moments. And I died in that basement, cold, alone, fearing the unknown. Chapter 3. Vengeance. Finding his place of residence was the easy part. I've been over there too many times to count.

It's still difficult to believe that he was capable of such indecency and treachery. Suppose my trusting nature proved to be my undoing. Only a fool would care for others in the cutthroat business like this. Kick myself for not seeing it earlier. He was an untrustworthy rogue all along. The night before it happened, before his gang had tortured me, he'd invited me over to his place. See, he had this little bar in the basement.

It was a nice, quiet place, where the two of us often talked or hashed out our next business arrangement. He vented about his marriage for the most part. What could I say? They were always on the verge of either breaking up or making up. Didn't really care. I was more focused on the whiskey.

Nothing beats a good scotch on the rocks, besides a good cognac, maybe. I don't know what it was. Why my mind kept going back to that time and place? Well, I guess there was something about that night I couldn't shake. I kept trying to coax me into giving up the name of my contact. Things got so bad I ended up leaving because he wouldn't drop it, and I wasn't in the mood to argue about it either.

Looking back on it now, how heated exchange was probably my downfall. It's crazy how a few words spiraled into this. I ponder the totality of it all as I wandered the lonely streets. trying my best to stay amongst the shadows, where the cursed and damned dwelt. Oh, damn it, what was I thinking? How could I have been so naive? I'll make him pay the ultimate price for what he did. I angrily grumbled to myself. With that in mind, I picked up the pace. It would have taken a matter of minutes to get there, if I would have used my newfound speeds.

I admit it, if it wasn't already known, I was conflicted, torn between me. two worlds. On one hand I wanted to rip him apart. On the other, I knew killing him wouldn't change anything. It was already over for me. My wife, my life, my hopes and dreams. It had all slipped through my fingers. All in all, it probably took a few hours to reach his place. They had a nice home. It was charming and enviable in a beautiful suburb that was far removed from the cold grasp of the metropolis. I dashed onto the roof of the home, across. from theirs. Moonlight was music to my ears. It provided me with ample illumination to see. I found myself getting lighter on my feet as I became more familiar with the transformation.

It was like I could feel the shadows, and knew exactly where and when to weave in and out of the light. I'd heard a great deal about Martel's boss. He was notorious in my city for his wild antics. I suppose working for someone like that takes a toll. Who knows? One thing I knew for sure was that he was paid well by his gang. His home was pretty decked out in furnishings and state-of-the-art electronics. It had been built from the ground up and finished about a year ago. Now that I think about it, that's around the time he started to change. I guess the financial burden must have gotten to him.

I could see the heat signatures of Martel and his wife, Kimberly, through the curtains. They were standing by the front window, convert. about something trivial. Well, this lasted for several minutes, before the two sat down on the sofa and channel surfed. They seemed content sitting there, sharing a bag of pretzels and sipping soda, while watching their favourite show.

Oh, his wife's laughter, I recognised it almost as soon as I heard it. It was more like an innocent shrill than a chuckle, which was somehow infectious more than it was annoying. I smirked to myself while reminiscing on last year's Thanksgiving, We spent it at their home, laughing the day away while watching football. Our kids played together, and our wives got along great. I thought very highly of his wife.

She was deaf in one ear and wore a hearing aid for support. And despite her disability, she displayed character and wisdom far beyond her years. It was amazing to watch her interact with my wife. They've grown close over the last two years. My Beck Kim was the first person she called when I went missing. What a shame. Kim had no idea how underhanded her husband truly was. My wife knew the kind of lifestyle I lived,

which was one of the biggest reasons I decided to give up the game. But his poor wife, she had no clue what he did, what we did. My wife struggled with remaining silent. The only reason she never told was because of me. At the time I thought it was better for her to find out from her husband than from either of us. Oh Kim, she was a real sweetheart Pay me to have to do what I was about to do I was well aware of the age-old adage

Two wrongs don't make a right And I knew what it was like To be cast away from the ones you love the most It was a fate worse than death Mardell You did this to yourself Those were the last words I mumbled Before taking action

I used my speed to dash through the darkness and into the light. The basement window was already cracked, so I slipped inside and made my way over to them. Even though I could no longer see my own reflection, I knew my appearance was unsightly, but I could tell by their fearful expressions. This scoundrel had ordered my torture in the name of greed and vain glory. Words could not express my anger,

to feel what I felt would go through the hell I went through. How did you feel? I pray that you judge me as you'd yourself in your darkest hour. Terrence? Is that you? His wife's inquiry tore me away from my thoughts.

Hello, Kimberly. How did you? She stuttered. You left the window open. Oh, God, are you okay? "'No. I'm afraid there's some business "'me and your husband have to attend to. "'What do you mean?'

"'You should go.' "'No.' She looked over at Martel and said, "'Maybe, what's going on?' "'Martel jumped to his feet, "'grabbed his handgun off the end table, "'and hastily brandished it in my direction. "'I could see the hesitation.

"'I could hear the trepidation. You and Kirigal. Take her over to your mothers. Maybe, what's going on? She asked. Stay there until I call you. But why? Why do I...

He cut her off with a hand gesture, and then said, Just be quiet, okay. I'm trying to think. Don't try too hard, I told him. Shut up. How the... How are you alive?

I wouldn't you like to know. He angrily waved his gun around while harrowing. Answer me, what the hell's going on? You're supposed to be dead. How the... And then Kim cried out. Stop it. He needs help.

What the... Why are you still here? I thought I told you and Kira to go. She turned to me and spoke with a gentleness. I can't expect from someone with such a gentle soul. God, Terence, what happened to you? your husband he did this no kim oh god no he has to pay martel is it true she asked hey get away from him he shouted while grabbing her arm so she wouldn't stray too close he showed his true dressing her down like the abusive monster he was Stay away from that freak.

You have no idea what's going on. He's not supposed to be here. Now go and do what I said before I hurt you. Take care and get the hell out of here. Now, Kim. I interrupted his bullying when I unexpectedly took a step closer. I don't know why he was surprised. Did he really expect me to just stand idly by

while he threatened to assault his wife? Seeing him flinch like that made me tell him to. Touch her. I dare you. Hey, hey, back off, or I'll blow your freaking head, clean off. Oh, look at you, you're a real tough guy, eh? You were mad enough to order the head. I wonder if you're mad enough to finish it.

I taunted him, revealing my dark smirk as I took another step away from the shadows. All my words must have struck a nerve. I could tell by the scowl it triggered. Good. Anger had finally taken over. That's exactly what I wanted for him to show his true craven colours. He closed his eyes like a coward and squeezed the trigger, firing a single shot. The impact forced me to stagger back.

I could hear the skin on my forehead singe. I examined the wound with my fingers. There was no blood or pain. The wound had closed all on its own. Slowly and unsteady at first, the sensation was odd. It felt like maggots crawling over my fingers. face, burrowing themselves deep inside my skin. And why did I flinch?

I suppose that last spark of humanity with me refused to die. I thought quickly after regaining my bearings. My thought smashed my ire. I turned to my so-called friend and snarled. Martel, you bastard, I'll show you how it's done. Kim placed herself in front of her roguish husband, clustered her hands together as if to pray, and pleaded for his intolerant. She begged me off with an eagerness and desperation that was unbefitting of someone I held in such high esteem.

Why was she telling me this? I knew the impact my actions would have upon their blasted family. I knew killing him would only make me a monster. God, her words. Her tears... I hesitated. Why should I show him mercy when he hadn't shown me any? No, he had to pay.

I didn't care if it was wrong. I was going to return the favor in spades. You betrayed me, I angrily shouted. Shut up, just shut up, man, he shouted back. I guess it's true. The ones closest to you are the ones who hurt you the most. What you had to do was give me a name. I was going to.

I was about to get out of the game and give you exactly what you wanted. Don't lie to me, man. Me and Reese taught it over. I promised her. All I needed was another month and... Oh, no, no, you're lying. That's true, I swear, man. Damn it.

I'm sorry. You don't understand. I need that connect. I need the money. You greedy bastard. I'll kill you. Terrance, man. Wait, I got a family.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse. their daughter Kira walked into the room she rubbed her eyes and yawned well the commotion must have shaken her out of bed she stood by the doorway gawking at me uncle Terrance hey sweetie are you sick i'm okay i just need to rest oh your eyes glowing i know sweetie i know looks cool um thanks i guess "'Hey, are you a superhero?' "'It's complicated. "'Mummy, Mommy, can I have a glowing eye, too? "'Oh, please. Uncle Terrence has one.

"'Come here, baby. "'Mommy, why are you sad? "'It's okay, baby, just—' "'Martel hollered. "'No, Kira, get out of here now. "'What the hell are you doing? Stay back.' "'The father's cray shouting startled her, and realizing this he lowered his weapon and tried to conceal it in the back of his waistband.

She hopped up and down while excitedly exclaiming, "'Daddy, is that a real gun? Can I see?' He turned to his wife in frustration. Kim, take care of get out here. Please, baby, I'm sorry for yelling. I swear I'll call once this all gets sorted out. "'I'm not leaving you,' she cried. "'Mommy, why are you sad?'

Martel lashed out at his daughter. Hey, Kira, what did I just say? Go back upstairs now. You're always yelling at me, she pouted. It's okay, baby. Listen to your father. Go back to your room. I'll be up there in a minute.

Mommy, I want to play with Uncle Terrence. It's not fair. How come I can't stay? Sweetie, please. I'll be up there in a minute. Uncle Terrence really needs our help. Can you read me a story? Yeah, baby, I can.

You promise? I promise, baby. Hey, uh, wait, I shouted. What, Martel asked. Do you hear that? You hear what, man? Someone's coming. What the hell are you talking about?

I don't hear anything, man. Jeez, you're crazy. He said, before turning his attention back to his daughter. "'Kira, take your behind back upstairs before I get my belt.' "'I said, wait,' I snarled in anger. Martel pointed his gun at me and asked who I thought I was talking to. His behaviour puzzled me. He knew his weapon of choice was useless, and yet he persisted.

I don't know if it was out of pride or prejudice, but he carried on like that, even going so far as to threaten to murk me if I didn't shut up. His wife begged him off. She told him that he was acting like a crazy person in front of their daughter. She reminded him of the promise he'd made to work on his temper and of her promise to leave him if he didn't. He wiped the tears from his eyes with the arm brandishing the handgun. After regaining his composure, he turned to me and asked me what it was I'd heard.

I listened intently before responding. There's a car, no, SUV. He allowed music chatter. They have weapons. I think they know you. What? How far? He asked.

They're close, very close. Oh, God, he uttered in shock. What's wrong? Who are they? I asked. They, they must have found out. His wife then pleaded with him in a rather frantic tone. Who behaved?

"'Who must have found out?' Her voice began to crack under the pressure. She held on to his arm and asked, "'Who, baby? Who? What's Terris talking about?' Mattel just stood there shell-shot. He completely zoned out on whatever it was he was thinking. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. His wife's words meant nothing to him.

He just continued to stare off into the distance with his blank expression. So she slapped him across the face. Say something. Anything, Martel. Hey! I messed up. I really messed up this time, baby. He muttered under his breath.

He lowered his weapon and continued to ignore her cries and screams for answers. I could tell he was at his breaking point. The decision to betray me had cost him everything. I used my reverend senses to home in on the vehicle. I could see through its large steel frame, well, not see in the literal sense. I could see the heat signatures of four individuals sitting inside of the thing. They part on the street curb right in front of Martel's house. The driver turned the gangster music down a touch,

while the others began checking what I assumed were firearms. I couldn't see the weapons, but every click and clack matched the motion of their arms. I could hear everything, from the distinct melody of the music, to each puff from the cigarettes and marijuana they passed around. I'd even hear the nervous laughter as they tried to loosen up before the hit. Though I had my suspicions on who they were, I wanted to be sure, so I listened in on their conversation. Is that the house, Chut?

Yeah, it is, little Joel. All right, cool, he replied. Hold on. Let me call the whole big deal real fast. I'll make sure it ain't nothing to. changed. He grumbled while dialing him up. And for a few rings the person answered. He sounded a big groggy and agitated, like one would if they've been pulled from their sleep. What up, big homie? What's up, you handle that? Nah, not yet. What do you mean? Ah, it's just making sure. Yeah, handle that. Say no more, big bro. Look, I get it. Martel's one of us. I'll tell us.

I wish I could call it off, but he brought this on himself. Oh, family. Damn, that's rough. What can I say? The order came all the way from the top, so you already know. All the way from ICE? Yep, all the way up. All right, B, he said, before ending the call.

He turned to his underling in the back seat, and with a heavy heart told him, "'Yeah, "'Fraid he's greenlet. "'Dam, little Joe said with a sigh. "'Hey, he punched his own ticket. "'Went rogue and crossed out one of our middlemen without permission. "'So now we have to cross him out,' Tut explained. "'Shh, that's messed up,' little Joe muttered.

"'Well, came from ICE,' Tut stated. "'Oh, damn, from the big boss?' "'Little Joe expressed with a great deal of surprise in his tone. "'Yup, you know how he is,' Tut replied. "'All right, let's do this,' little Joe said. "'Tut turned to the other goon in the back seat and asked, "'Hey, Tone, ready to do this?' "'Tone nodded with a grim expression on his face.

"'Hillard his balak clover mask and said, "'Yeah, let's slide.' "'All right, let's go,' Tutt said, with a nod of his head. He turned to Little Joe and said, "'Make sure you'd toss the cocktail on my signal. "'You better not mess up.' "'I won't, I swear,' he replied. "'The heavy hitter, tut,

"'strapped on a pair of thermal goggles, "'tighten the straps to his tactical vest, "'and then slapped a drum mag on his CMMG. "'He took a step out of the SUV, "'and then told his underlings, "'right, fellas, I got this.' "'Be careful,' the driver said. "'All right,' Tut replied,

"'before closing the door and casually making his way across the yard. "'He stopped when he was standing in the middle of the walkway, "'which was about halfway from the door. "'He hunched over and aimed his weapon. "'And as soon as he did, he hesitated. "'What he picked up on his thermos must have seemed off. "'That's kind of odd. "'I wonder why they're all just standing around in the front room.

Like a bunch of sitting ducks. He mumbled to himself. Since I was already dead, his thermos didn't get a read on me. That's probably what made their assassin hesitate. The oddity of seeing Martel and his whole family standing around in the middle of the night, for what seemed like no apparent reason. I snapped out of it, which brought my attention back inside the living room. I had to think fast.

I could hear the assassin's finger tap the trigger. I glanced at Martell and his wife, then over at their daughter, Kira. And my reverent senses took over. It's like everything has slowed down to a crawl, giving me precious time to react. I could hear the zip of each bullet. I could see the slight shockwaves each projectile made as they cracked and boomed past me faster than the speed of sound. Without thinking, I dodged in front of Kira and shielded her with my body.

Her poor parents were riddled with bullets. Martel died before his body could even hit the floor. Her mother collapsed on top of him in a grotesque death pose. I watched the tears flickering her eyes as she faded in and out of existence. All I could do in that moment was cover Keir's eyes so she wouldn't have to bear witness any longer. She screamed and tried to break free, and I held on tight and tried my best to calm her. I rubbed her forehead, and a fatherly tone said, it's okay

I won't let anything happen to you I swear I want my mommy it's okay sweetheart mommy I want my mommy it's okay Kira now I uttered before turning my attention back to the gunman

he signalled for his accomplished to execute the next phase of their plan little Joe hopped from the SUV without missing a beat made a mad dash across the front yard and tossed the Molotov cocktail through the window. The sound of glass shattering startled Kira.

Her first instinct was to run, but I held on. I told her we had to stay put. We had to endure no matter what. I couldn't risk trying to escape until they were gone. Little Joe didn't even wait around to see if the fire had stuck. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he made another mad dash for it. Tone was already waiting for him by the door. He waved his pistol around like a lunatic while she was.

shouting. Come on little Joe, get in, hurry. He dashed inside of the SUV and thanked Tone for watching his back. Tone shrugged and told him not to worry about it, that they were part of the same gang when he had his back no matter what. The two suddenly stopped blustering when they realized what was happening. They couldn't believe their eyes. Tutt was still standing in front of Martel's house, waiting to open fire on anything that moved. "'Hey, Tone, what the hell's he doing?' Little Joe asked. "'I don't know. All I know is he better hurry up

"'before we get caught in a jam,' Torn replied. "'I'm starting to get scared here, man,' "'lil Joe confessed in a shaky voice. "'Tone shouted. "'Hey, Tart. Let's go before the police show up.' "'Yeah, boss, what are you doing? Let's go,' "'Little Joe hollered from inside the vehicle. "'I could hear the panic in their voices.

Each quarter of flea was more frantic than the last. It was obvious that the two were nothing more than a couple of hooligans, who were in way over their heads. But this tut individual, I could tell he wasn't cut from the same cloth. He didn't so much as flinch at their wild calls to retreat. He remained cool and calm like a mobster while keeping his gun locked on Kira's heat signature. The flames had begun to spread now,

and right then I knew I had to act before it was too late. I couldn't risk escape, not just yet, not with him bearing down on us like that. If he'd have opened fire, there was a good chance he'd hit her due to his obvious killer instinct. Even worse, what would you think, seeing the girl's heated signature seemingly disappear like that? I'm sure he'd be compelled to report an occurrence as odd as that to his boss. And Kira had been through enough. The last thing she needed was to be hunted down by these pitiless predators. time was of the essence.

There was no way she would survive much longer in these flames. She was frightened and sobbing in my arms, asking if her mummy and daddy were dead. God, it broke my heart when she said. Uncle Terrence, please, I don't want to die. Kira, listen to me. You have to be still. The bad guys won't go away if you don't. I'm scared.

Hey, um, can you play dead for your uncle? She nodded yes while weeping. Okay, sweetie, that's it. Try to stay calm. I'm here. I won't let go of you no matter what. She whimpered in my arms while giving it her best effort. I promised myself that I wouldn't let anything happen to her.

I couldn't. It would have been like watching my own daughter perish. Todd, come on, they're dead, bro. Let's dash before the boys get here. Don't shout it. I prayed that she. She'd stayed still long enough to fool him. This maniac gave it one last look through his thermos.

And satisfied, he raised them, turn his back to us, and casually made his way back to the vehicle. I didn't even wait for them to drive away. I stood and cradled Kira in my arms. Hold on tight, sweetie. I'm going to get you out of here. I told her before kicking open the back door. After carrying her a safe distance,

I stopped to make sure she was okay. I looked down to see that her eyes were closed. God, I almost panicked. But then I gently shook her, and she meekly muled. Oh, thank God, I said, before sighing in relief. She was already asleep. I wasn't surprised. After an arduous ordeal like that, I probably would have done the same.

But her heat signature was strong, the blood that flowed through her looped and bent in intricate arrays within her fragile being. The tighter the twists and turns, the more jumbled and unknown it all seemed to my eyes. The body was a sculpture that had been moulded into perfection by God's hands. I could see the oxygen-rich blood that flowed from her heart and arteries, before returning as deoxygenated blood, through a myriad of veins. But it was all so complicated and harmonious, as if our lives and our souls were entwined and directed by the steady hands of a divine conductor.

Slowly, but surely, the light from the fire faded as I returned to that old familiar place, the darkness of the night. Sirens blared behind me as they raced at the scene. The moment was surreal and unreal. The whole thing reminded me of the ending to some cheesy movie, where the good guy saves the little girl and goes home. Unfortunately for me, there would be no silver lining. I was a monster responsible for the Miss Frizzlement.

fortune of others, who was now cursed to walk the earth in loneliness. During the walk, I began to wonder who this tut individual was. Martel often spoke about his gang affiliation, and from what I gather this tut was what they called a hitter, but to me he was a ruffian who had no problem leaving an innocent girl to die, and scum like that deserved to be behind bars for their crimes. Martel often spoke of the cutthroat mentality of his gang, but up until now I think thought it was merely bluster. I had no idea that they were this wicked, and wickedness could only be cured by one thing. I vowed to dismantle their organisation piece by piece right then.

It wasn't going to be easy, but their gang had to be stopped. Too many people had suffered under the yoke of injustice for far too long. I carried her all the way to my home, and with my speed I was able to cover the distance in about fifteen minutes. We would arrive much sooner if I hadn't found myself waiting through my own thoughts. I made it up the steps and rang the bell. When my wife opened the door, she just stood there, staring at me for what felt like an eternity. It was the strangest thing. I never wanted her to see me like this.

I was an outcast, the phantom of the opera whose only resonance was a symphony of dissonance. Terence? Oh my God, is that you? she asked before covering her mouth and crying her tears gleamed under the light from the war lantern her sorrow deeply reflected my own silhouette i had to say something it had to be the voice of reason on behalf of our entangled emotions my intentions were noble but my words were ignoble take her what why she asked i can't say Did you kill No She took the girl Carried her into our living room

And laid her down on the couch Then she rushed over to me As if she were rushing back into my arms I stepped back and told her to Stay away What happened I shouldn't be here She grabbed my hand before I could go

And the coldness of my touch surprised her I turned my head in shame. Oh God, I couldn't bear to let her see me like this. A shell of the man that she'd fallen in love with. Let me see your face. No, no, I can't let you. It's okay, she uttered, and she brought her hand to my cheek and gently mirrored the light. Her eyes sparkled when she saw my face.

So shocked by my appearance, she instinctively gasped. Oh, God! Look, I'd try to it. warn you we'll get through this i i should go terence what i love you Reese take care of the I will I promise thank you where are you going there's something I must do okay I'll be here waiting for you. I know, I mumbled before turning away and making my way down the porch. I paused for a moment, not wanting to return to the gloomy shadows quite yet. It just didn't feel right, living without saying goodbye. And so, right before returning, I told her,

you worry too much, but I'll find a way. And when I do, I'll see you again. And so once again, the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast wrong, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.