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07-05-2013, 12:52 AM
Slaiter I looked for your name on the Ouija board
The ghoul is not happy. He has seen them, the new ones, beings who dare to intrude in his haven. They stride among the pools and corpses, laughing and bold, as if they belong. Dancing and stalking, even daring to step away from the main path, venturing further and further into a land that does not welcome the living. Fools, arrogant idiots, certain of their own immortality, paying no mind to the bloated bodies of those who came before. Even the shrieking, moaning, snarling warnings are ignored, falling on deaf ears, screams treated as silence. He knows this flood of interlopers is caused by the dark. At first, when the sun did not rise, he knew fear. Not of the darkness itself, for he is a ghoul and loves the night, but for the implications of unending blackness. Ragnarok, he remembers his mother whispering, telling tales to her unholy son. First would come winter, and then would come the end. And here it was, bitter cold Frostfall, and now the great wolves Hati and Skoll had eaten the sun and moon. He knew the world was ending, and he had trembled. Yet, time passed, and nothing happened. The world remained, though neither sun nor moon returned, and it seemed all was well. So he calmed, resumed haunting the marsh and 'befriending' the dead, collecting them and speaking stories until his voice wore out. Things had been alright, normal. Until them. He hates them, in way, for waltzing into his home so brashly. For claiming to belong among the dead, when they don't, aren't monsters and never will be, not the way he is. Perhaps they are cruel, perhaps they kill for fun, but they are not abominations, not monters, not really. They walk the land of the undead, and they haven't the right. So, tonight he creates new stories, stories of the boy son of a witch who resides among cadavers and skeletons, wild and territorial, driving away the living who wander into his midnight realm of murky pools and massive trees hung with moss. The ghoul will watch no longer. It is time to act. |
