A legend tumbles through the rocky desert of a secluded nation, it whistled with a hum and ends with a bang. The sll of smoke powder drifts in the air, and the acrid stench of blood stains the sands. The caws of crows and the cackling of hyenas and vultures followed in that man’s footsteps. A river of blood traces his footsteps, pooling into his bootprints–a warning to all wanderers.
And the legend walks on, whistling to himself, a cross hanging from his neck and a lone revolver within finger’s reach at all tis and with every footstep. The killer of saints, they called him, for no village in his path lived to tell the tale. But what could be the cause of his rampage? A test of sanity for the insane.
Flashes of his daughter made him put one step after the next, only ever stopping at churches and at the corpses of his victims to check for usable bullets. Food? What food? The lack of faith kept him going. But not for long, as his conviction for revenge may have been strong, but his body withered before his soul, and yet before it could escape, a god snatched his soul from that world and whisked it away.
The people were at last at rest, but with no buggy man to keep the good and bad in its fear, it wasn’t long before that town and all around it turned lawless, and nothing was left. Or nothing that the people of Gaia would know for the killer of saints made it out.
Grabbing his ankles, a shadow of his past used his body like a ladder and climbed up to rest on his shoulder like a gremlin. Whispering into his ears again, the monster reminded Morgan of who he truly was.
"You’re the monster who killed her, Morgan," it said with a cackle by his ear.
"Shut up..." Replied the man, trying to get that old friend off his shoulder.
Yet the shadow persisted, and the hunt for intruders began once again. Walking through the brambles, his revolver loaded not with bullets but borrowed power from the nun, Morgan searched for his target–the spies or anyone else who tried to get through the thickest part of the forest.
"What are you doing, Morgan?" Grabbing the man’s face from behind, the gremlin of a shadow leaned its head next to his ear. Its glowing eyes obscured Morgan’s peripherals, but that too was part of the shadow’s plan. "You kill everyone, Morgan, shoot, shoot and shoot, why are you wandering around chasing deer?"
"I’m not chasing any deer, and why are you back, you pisswatt!" Like a spider crawling across the face, the shadow ran his fingers all over Morgon’s face and laughed.
"Ohhh, I was just gone for a minute, but I’m now that you’re getting more sane, ahaHAHAH~!"
"I’ve been sane all this ti..." Watching his steps and dealing with the shadow proved quite difficult, but already knowing that there was nothing that he could do to make the shadow go away, Morgan simply tried to ignore it, but it just wouldn’t shut up.
"Nonono~ You’re mistaken, this world–its insanity reversed what you truly were, it’s too bizarre to keep you in your natural state, you were lost, Morgan," leaning back and forth on his shoulder, the shadow dug its nails into the killer’s face, "But now you’re back. You’ve accepted the insanity, it has beco the mundane and once more in a sane world–a sane world to you, you’re finally turning back insane."
"That done makes no sense. Just get off , you little rascal!" Shrugging his shoulders, he tried to get the shadow off his shoulders, but how do you get sothing off that isn’t really there? In a sane world, Morgan was insane, and when insanity ca to him in Atlaris, his mind completely shifted. However, accepting the chaos around him was slowly pushing him back into his previous ntal state.
An insane man, hunting for the evil and the innocent. All for the sake of his daughter, a daughter that didn’t exist in this world. He wished to return to a world where she might already be killed, but what other choice did he have but to persist? With that in mind, Morgan aid his revolver and chased the sounds of hushed footsteps. In the distance, he could hear it as loud as day moving through the brambles.
A single person with elusive footsteps, almost too quiet for a human but bipedal. Closing the distance more and more, Morgan noticed a hint of glowing green eyes disappearing behind a pair of trees. Chasing after that brief light, he watched his steps and aid his gun. Making sure not to make a sound, the two of them got closer and closer without being seen.
"What are you waiting for, shoot!" Screeched the shadow in his ears, but keeping his composure, Morgan aid at the tree behind which the other person was surely hiding.
"Co out and I’ll let you leave," he said, and a man with glowing green eyes erged from behind cover.
His body remained clad in the dark with only his face slightly visible to Morgan.
"You shot my n, two of them..." Lifting his weapon, the man aid at the killer.
"A rifle?" Morgan pulled back the revolver’s hamr. "You touch that trigger and them survivor folks gonna pick your brains off in pieces, mister."
Waving his gun at him, the killer gave the man a chance to walk away.
"You gave my n the sa chance? Or did you shoot first and then ask questions later?"
"Them were too many, so I did what I had to do." Looking into each other’s eyes, the n fell quiet and awaited that click to shoot each other’s heads off.
However, the thought of his daughter made the intruder lower his weapon, and while Morgan did the sa, there was sothing different about his situation. As Elowen’s daughter was loved and living, Morgan’s daughter was gone; he just didn’t rember it, for...
"You killed her, Morgan. You killed her after those n had left her bleeding," smirking yet again, the devil on his shoulder spoke the truth, but the insanity of a man who had to kill his own blood wouldn’t let him see the truth. "Now kill him before he kills her again!"
The flash of her mory shut off his mind, and before Morgan knew, his revolver was raised and the trigger got pulled–just as it had, against the scouts and the spies.
User Comments
0 comments from readers