He was mounted up against the sandstone, cold torture chamber walls, hands chained, nude, bleeding profusely. He was near death, seeping in and out of conscience nous with every flickering, light swinging from above. The minute hand of the nearby clock slid over to 11:59 P.M. He gleaned his last breath and exhaled softly…His life had abandoned him. The man once known by only ‘J.C.’ had died…
Blackness began to swallow his soul alleviating his once suffering agony. In the distance, a small speck of light peering through the end of the vast emptiness surrounding him began to permeate the scent of burning coals and a retched stench of rotting flesh. The light soon became a tall burning flame whisking, swirling the blackness of the tunneling walls. The fire pierced through his very soul, it was indeed the touch of Lucifer. Nothing happened.
“HMMM!” The Price of Darkness bellowed from with-in the nothingness. “NO ONE SHALL GAZE UPON ME!” The growling echo vibrated the shadows of ambiguity until the darkness began to separate from around him and crumble into a void of nonentity.
It could feel the cold again from the steel chains and grits of brittle sand against its nude flesh. The minute hand slid over to 12:01 A.M. It had awakened, but it wasn’t the same…the pain was gone…forever. “THIS ONE BELONGS TO ME!” It heard from within its conscience. Its tight clinched eyes, opened with balls of fire having consumed its pupils. Empowered by an unknown strength it ripped the chains free from the walls. The shape of what was once a man now steadily walked over to the variety of torture weapons mounted near the exit doorway. He grazed his hands along the axe, the pickaxe, the saw until his fingers pressed up against the weapon his torturers had used on him, a butcher knife. “YOU ARE MY SEVENTH HAND!” The demon spoke internally, “THE LUNAR MOON IS NOW YOUR GUIDE!” Each word shook what was once the being’s flesh.
The exit doorway easily opened without a squeak and the presence stepped into the hallway. In front of it, facing the opposite direction staring out a window was a silhouette of a tall stocky fellow with chaotically tangled hair; the moonlight glimpsed what appeared to be the man also wearing a strange white mask of sorts, and clothes that most certainly would be a perfect fit, indeed.
“STEP FORTH!” Satan’s assertive whisper came again, “STEP FORTH ‘GRAVEN KANE’ AND TAKE YOUR REVENGE!”
Last edited by MOWDEReeL
on Tue Apr 24, 2012 10:19 am, edited 1 time in total.