The Sleeping Village's story teller-in-residence is back with a grisly vengeance. Read on:
Written by: Tales_of_Deception
Darkness 5.10.46: It’s a remarkable sensation to feel the warmth of someone else’s blood drip onto my body while they hang above me, clinging on for a mere last breath. This isn't the first corpse I've decimated and it sure as hell won’t be the last. It seems as though they, the humans, want to find a place that has never been discovered. Little do they know that every single body that enters my tomb has been consumed by pure darkness, utter pain and an overwhelming sense of never being seen again.
The absolute torture I project on the souls that discover this realm of destruction is what I live for. This is my place! This is my tomb! I want them to bleed. I want them to feel the same agony I felt when I was banished from where I lived before here. I shall shackle them from rusty chains, carve every inch of flesh from their bodies and let them slowly rot from starvation. This is what they deserve. I want this “kingdom” of mine to be littered with the rich, poor and innocent. I want the skies to pour blood from the dead that I've taken. I will prove this is my sanctuary.
This Hell 6.30.47: Fractured skulls, limbs and entrails have always been scattered across the floor here. It’s a sign that I am becoming who I was meant to be. The smell of blood and rot is really what pushes me to keep my path going forward. It’s the thrill that one day this “throne” will be filled with nothing but the wicked. Every bone, every heart, every organ, I want them hear and I want each one of them to see what I have done before the life they loved gets taken away.
Time is absent down here. I count the days by how many bodies I have collected. The count thus far is 120 but I can smell another wondering soul in the distance. It’s only a matter of time before he/she/they discover this hell that I've created. A smashed face, a few broken ribs before being tied up and carved open, it’s all open ended scenarios that are quite possible to happen. I have zero regret for what happens down here. Call it what you will but for the rest of my days, I will despise the living above me. I want them all, no matter how much destruction I have to cause.
Providing thoughtful reviews of music that is heavy, gloomy, and loud enough to wake us from slumber. Written by a groggy-eyed, highfalutin peasantry.