dark-one

[master of the puppets]

He held his head low, like a snake perceiving a scared mouse, and as he stalked his shoulders moved oddly, as one rose the other dropped, up down up down, as he stalked. his raven black hair spilled down over his scarred forehead and rested just above his cruel eyes. almond shaped but his brows rolled down hiding half the red cornea giving him an even more sinister look. he was garbed in all black, with very broad pants like that of some twisted ronin, he wore a solid black shirt with both the sleeves haphazardly torn away revealing heavily muscled arms. his arms had black contorted about them but some dark force twisted them. like curls of smoke the inky blackness moved under his skin, always altering and dancing over the steely strands of muscle like fire over its victim.
john doe the yet unconvicted serial murderer looked back over his shoulder as he ran, though many yards back that figure of utter blackness consumed his vision drawing all the fear from his heart and drawing the specters of darkness and self hatred from the confines of his mind. every horrid and vile thing he had ever done assailed his almost non-existent conscious making him almost wish for death when he looked at that stalking figure. he looked back at that figure that was slowly walking yet was somehow still gaining on him as he sprinted. he felt bile rise up in the back of his throat as he remembered the stories in the news of the mutilated bodies of the murderers and rapists and gang bosses and drug dealers who had so mysteriously been torn from this life and unceremoniously hurled into the pit of hell. he gagged and from the momentary distraction his toe hit the side of the curb in the alleyway.
he was thrown the ground, his jaw striking the concrete and unsettling teeth. he tasted blood in his mouth and the puke factor finally caught up with him. blood and vomit spilled out onto where he was sitting. he then stood up and turned around, coming face to face with the dark being. how he had consumed almost 40 yards of distance in the single moment that john was on the ground is a matter for the gods but none the less he now stood inches from his quarry. from the sheath at the dark-ones waist he drew the sword.
john could not scream, with all his will he tried to but he could not.
"you want to scream little scumbag," the dark-one crooned "so do it, your gonna die anyway" johns heart dropped into his stomach as he remembered what he had said to that innocent family before he had killed each one of them. the dark-one had just said it to him as if he had dipped right into his memories.
the dark one raised his sword and brought it down, it was a shining well oiled gladius which glinted in the sparse streetlight that filtered in from the front of the dark alley. and the steel struck the quivering little murderer and yet it did not cut. the dark one raised the sword again and swung it smashing the bastard in the jaw setting his teeth free. the flat of the blade broke his jaw. he moaned in agony as the blade came down again and broke his ribs. he fell back and lie on his back suffering with every breath. a steel toed boot dug into his kidneys. now he could scream and he did. putting all his heart into it he screamed in suffering and fear. a muscular hand descended and grabbed the cuff of the murderers shirt and drew him up onto his feet and still he screamed. and the two locked eyes for a moment and from that moment johns heart flooded with something very few ever knew, pure abstract terror. and the screaming stopped. and the dark one slowly spoke as if shaping the words he barely spoke in the several millennia he had lived. "you scum, do you feel this pain so like that that you imposed unto your victims, you can feel it in your heart as well, the pain of knowing the horrors you have committed" in the distance a church bell tooled for the stroke of midnight. the dark one averted his head so he could hear it the best, he took a breath and spoke once more, his lips shaping over each word projecting it in his morbid deep voice. "ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. the dark ones call for your soul john, go now and join them in you eternal suffering." And with a feeling of finality he said "now, let heart beat no more" he rested his palm on johns fore head and wrapped his fingers around his skull and them in one twistingly violent sound crushed the murderers skull in his fist.
and so the dark-one walked away from that place of carnage, humming, slowly, slowly.

well I’m quite pleased with this one. it really has no point but i think its awesome.

[Kagemusha]

Well done.I enjoyed it.I like the dark,agonizing atmosphere of your stories.