The freezing night was a mist of violet and dark…grey beams seem to be send by the moon and, whispered a tough smog of death into the cold dark sand of the swamp…a rising dark figure, started to move from the mist… awakening a bunch of crows the figure walked, curved, but not tired, muddy but not dragging… the wharfing shattered the smog with an almost rotten air… focused in some kind of a purposed, the figured turned into a kid… wearing nothing else than a red robe and bearing a silver necklace firmed into his hand… he continued to walk away from the swamp into the dark lake surrounded by dark trees long dead and lightened only by the staring and accomplice moon.
There it was… the white swan, a hundred times seen, a hundred times admired, a hundred times killed by it…The kid walked right into the cold iced water…the already stained and filthy robe continued to darken as it spread into an inverted flower into the water, his faced pale showed only the cynic wide spread smile and two dark eyes that where before light brown, carved into dark surroundings of forgotten flesh… Insanity could be the name of the scenario, the swan started to swim towards him… its eyes turned from dark to red as it got closer, and what was a gracious swim, became an almost robotic movement towards the kid.
The moment was ceased has the kid pulled out two Japanese knifes, and moved the cloak away, revealing a dark suit with writings carved black into black. Sick of being pulled away from the world, tired of being helpless and alone, he turned the two knifes into each hand making two turns and stopping them pointing to the coming swan. A lifetime disguised crusade arouse and his eyes started to cry pure black tears, and his body started to shake, so he kneelled facing away the swan…
The innocent bird, quickly chapped into a tall dark figure, a long dark coat, with a pure pallid white face, full of scars and sharp teeth… its hands started to shown enormous sharpened nails which it quickly pointed into the kid as it jumped…
Without a moment to think, water was tossed over everywhere, and the only sound heard was the triumphant scream of the daemon, the kid had risen, and the two hands had been deeply carved into its stomach and chest… The kid stood eyes wide open, looking with a confusing way of admiration but somewhat pure anger. The beast smiled and laugh, has it knew death was certain to the foolish boy…
But its hands grapped the deamon’s arms and the kid started to pull himself out backwards, slowly getting himself out of the nails… He kneeled grabbed the knifes and looked at the beast, breathing nervously and animal like. The deamon didn’t understood…all that faced him had died and now that kid stood there as if nothing happed… The kid jumped right into the daemons chest and all that that violet, violent, cold night heard was once again a daemon scream… an enormous and continuous scream… mixed with the splashing of water…
From the mist he came, into the mist it retreats…leaving a blood trail… a blood bath… a bloodraine… that he didn’t start, but he will not ever stop…
There are wounds that will never heal, and will bleed forever, there wounds shape men, crate kingdoms, rage wars, feed insanity, give strength, steal light, but give some kind of life…even if an under life… they keep you alive…in your nightmare that has just started but will never end.
I’ve been made of the finest metal and forged in the hardest hammer forge , I will never cease to fight, will never quit… And although I walk down into the valley of the shadow of death, I shall not fear, because I’m the ugliest mother fucker in the valley.
Once I feared death….now it fears me
