Post by Screem on Feb 15, 2018 17:52:53 GMT
You could follow the trail of blood in the snow for miles. Occasionally, he’d stop and glance past the shoulder of his fur pauldron to see the eyes of a wolf glimpsed but barely through the snow-dusted trees, watching him, and wondering what he intended to do with the severed head dangling from his fingers. Wilhelm smirked to himself, and kept walking the lonely path through the ankle high snow, his ring finger sliding along the cold, slimy flesh of the head he’d severed, and his mind drifting elsewhere, to another time.
“When will you be finished?” She asked. His daughter, her eyes gleaming with hope that he’d at last conclude a lifelong quest to rid the world of monsters. He could only shake his head. He didn't know.
And at once he was back to the lonely forest, trudging through the snow thinking of the hands he’d cut off and thrown into the sea, the hands that had reached into his home so long ago and carried off his family. His fingers gripped the monster’s hair and wanted to fling it into oblivion, but knew that would surely bring about its resurrection were he to fail at the ritual.
Ahead stood the lonely log cabin. He entered its loneliness and slammed the oozing, bloody head down upon a wooden block facing a dark corner of the cabin. Grumpily, he eyed the corner where normally his wood stores sat, only they were empty. He had burned the last of the fuel the last time he came here to do something similar to his mission now. From the corner, the deep, grumble came from the severed head,
“You’ll run out of timmmmmme,” it said, half a hiss. “Give me back my hands and I’ll give you the death you deservvvvvve.” Wilhelm ‘hmphed’ and broke down an unused wooden chair and set it in the fire, then kindled a spark, which rose to a flame. He turned and glared triumphantly at the back of the head and smirked, seeing it give off a hint of steam in the slowly warming cabin, and begin to squirm.
He gulped and knew it was almost over. The head of a creature this world had forgotten severed hours earlier after a battle he could still feel in his bones was the last remnant of this life he’d been living for longer than he could remember.
“You’re the last of it,” he whispered to himself, with grim finality. His eyes shut tight at the sight of the bones within the monster’s cave when he first stepped inside after years, decades of searching and knew that somewhere in that pile of shredded clothing, and discarded bones lay pieces of his family.
“Finished,” he whispered and opened his eyes to see the head had moved inches from where he set it. He grit his teeth, knowing the warmth from the fire was the threat this creature wanted to escape and he stood up and stomped along the wood floor toward it.
“No you don't.” His fingers gripped the snaky hair and plucked the head off the table, holding it purposely closer to the flame. The head hissed.
“You neeedddd uss.” It croaked, sensing his intent was serious. “You burn your purpose, and your life is meaninglessss.” He grit his teeth, grinding them together angrily inside his mouth as he forced the head over the flame, hearing the first searing drops of flesh spitting onto the wood and the head screeched angrily, sensing it’s end nearing.
“What will you doooo without usssss?” He clenched his fist, lowering the head and shutting his eyes as the flames climbed high enough to burn the hair off his forearm, seeing those bones littered haphazardly along the dusty floor of that barren ice cave in his mind. Releasing the monster from its ability to resurrect itself, and himself from the vengeance he’d sought for years.
His eyes opened and found only the last strands of wispy dark hair between his fingers, and the flames threatening to take his arm, too. He stepped back after moments of contemplating taking himself with the monster, a tear streaking down his cheek, and slumped into the last chair within the little hunter’s cabin. He sighed, and breathed deeply, looking into the fire, and then down at his exposed arm where vague burns crept along his skin and he contemplated.
What would he do? Finding and fighting monsters wasn’t a career one fell into, or signed up for. It found him. And with this creature, the one he’d saved for last through no will of his own marked the end of an era. To his knowledge, there were none left. Only he remained.
What would he do?
“Find new monsters to fight,” he mused out loud, and endeavored in that moment to travel back to America. He’d find something new to fight. Until it killed him.
“When will you be finished?” She asked. His daughter, her eyes gleaming with hope that he’d at last conclude a lifelong quest to rid the world of monsters. He could only shake his head. He didn't know.
And at once he was back to the lonely forest, trudging through the snow thinking of the hands he’d cut off and thrown into the sea, the hands that had reached into his home so long ago and carried off his family. His fingers gripped the monster’s hair and wanted to fling it into oblivion, but knew that would surely bring about its resurrection were he to fail at the ritual.
Ahead stood the lonely log cabin. He entered its loneliness and slammed the oozing, bloody head down upon a wooden block facing a dark corner of the cabin. Grumpily, he eyed the corner where normally his wood stores sat, only they were empty. He had burned the last of the fuel the last time he came here to do something similar to his mission now. From the corner, the deep, grumble came from the severed head,
“You’ll run out of timmmmmme,” it said, half a hiss. “Give me back my hands and I’ll give you the death you deservvvvvve.” Wilhelm ‘hmphed’ and broke down an unused wooden chair and set it in the fire, then kindled a spark, which rose to a flame. He turned and glared triumphantly at the back of the head and smirked, seeing it give off a hint of steam in the slowly warming cabin, and begin to squirm.
He gulped and knew it was almost over. The head of a creature this world had forgotten severed hours earlier after a battle he could still feel in his bones was the last remnant of this life he’d been living for longer than he could remember.
“You’re the last of it,” he whispered to himself, with grim finality. His eyes shut tight at the sight of the bones within the monster’s cave when he first stepped inside after years, decades of searching and knew that somewhere in that pile of shredded clothing, and discarded bones lay pieces of his family.
“Finished,” he whispered and opened his eyes to see the head had moved inches from where he set it. He grit his teeth, knowing the warmth from the fire was the threat this creature wanted to escape and he stood up and stomped along the wood floor toward it.
“No you don't.” His fingers gripped the snaky hair and plucked the head off the table, holding it purposely closer to the flame. The head hissed.
“You neeedddd uss.” It croaked, sensing his intent was serious. “You burn your purpose, and your life is meaninglessss.” He grit his teeth, grinding them together angrily inside his mouth as he forced the head over the flame, hearing the first searing drops of flesh spitting onto the wood and the head screeched angrily, sensing it’s end nearing.
“What will you doooo without usssss?” He clenched his fist, lowering the head and shutting his eyes as the flames climbed high enough to burn the hair off his forearm, seeing those bones littered haphazardly along the dusty floor of that barren ice cave in his mind. Releasing the monster from its ability to resurrect itself, and himself from the vengeance he’d sought for years.
His eyes opened and found only the last strands of wispy dark hair between his fingers, and the flames threatening to take his arm, too. He stepped back after moments of contemplating taking himself with the monster, a tear streaking down his cheek, and slumped into the last chair within the little hunter’s cabin. He sighed, and breathed deeply, looking into the fire, and then down at his exposed arm where vague burns crept along his skin and he contemplated.
What would he do? Finding and fighting monsters wasn’t a career one fell into, or signed up for. It found him. And with this creature, the one he’d saved for last through no will of his own marked the end of an era. To his knowledge, there were none left. Only he remained.
What would he do?
“Find new monsters to fight,” he mused out loud, and endeavored in that moment to travel back to America. He’d find something new to fight. Until it killed him.
You know you can't switch accounts without turning it off?
I feel cool
