Please forgive, dear reader, the shortness of this monogram, but circumstances necessitate brevity. Even as I write I know that they are coming for me and that I shall soon be captured.
My friend, read on at your leisure yet know that this is written in haste and your indulgence I crave should I appear to ramble or omit such detail as might qualify this story more in your mind.
My story begins, in so far as my role in it is concerned, ten years ago to this very day. Hallowe’en. I was but a youth, hardly parted from the breast, but with a keen interest in the occult. Wherein most of my compatriots would with contempt simply pass the dark arts away as superstition, I on the other hand took an eager curiosity in such things – a curiosity which was to confound my career and indeed my life.
On this night then, the night of the rule of witches and demons, I undertook to attend my local cemetary. As would be expected in any good tale, the moon was full and the weather good, if slightly misty. A perfect night for my intended mission in fact. Alas, that I should have thought it so – for the perfection of the night lay only in the evil that was to befall me.
I made my way to the grave yard and climbed the bolted gate. Often I had done so, though never at this most particular of nights. Still, I wondered as many times I had wondered, by the gate was bolted for who would wish to enter such a place and who might endeavour to leave once embedded within their final beds?
With the neither common sense nor wisdom, I made my way to the crypt. It stood as dark a menace as could be encountered on any night and more so even on this, the foulest of the calendar. Fool, that I should of my own choice have ventured there when all reason and sanity would forbid it. But reason and sanity did not drive me – only curiosity. Curiosity – I curse the word and spit it out like venom, but the venom has already devoured me.
With care I dug within the earth within the crypt, dug and dug until the secret and sacred treasure was made bare. White and hard it lay and the temptation and the desire were as bread to the starving. I, alas, took that temptation. Though I curse my skin, I took that temptation and devoured it. The bone that was man I consumed on that night which was halloe’en, and as I consumed it, so too it consumed me.
And now they come. My story is all but ended, save for the moral of which all good stories must impart. In search of the dark I ate of the dead, and in doing so, forfeit each and every of my nine lives. Yea, I now am of the dead, sentenced to eternal prison within this crypt, able but for a single hour on this most darkest of days to run blindly in the dark of the free world, a cat with no eyes, with no colour, and no hope. A black cat indeed – seeking, searching, for the light which I had forsaken.
And now they are come and I return, to darkness.
Arletta
Oh, my, yes: that qualifies! I love your little twists – the ones in your brain, as well as in your writing.
Thank you for the entertaining read!
ellamental
“run blindly into the dark of the free world”...... right on darling,this is a MASTERPIECE of work!!!!
ROUBLE RUST
lightsmith replied
My hallowee’n joy is running over my skull-type goblet! Thank you so much for this feature.