They all would talk of the man on the hill, the one that would always sit and stare out into his garden... they all have been warned of this man.
He would sit and wait till the sun would set behind his house, before looking for someone else to join him, as the sun would set he would seek for the next mindless follower to join him...
He would sit and wait till the sun would set behind his house, before looking for someone else to join him, as the sun would set he would seek for the next mindless follower to join him...
As the years rolled on he would stand by the mirror fixing his ever greying hair...
The people calling out to him would be ignored and off he would set to find that mindless follower to add to his growing desire.
As his desire grew the less space he had and the more the people would call out to him, he always knew they were near he could almost feel them touch his skin - goosebumps would grow with each touch... The mirror faced the passage and he could see everything that happened behind him, from the rats that would run from hole to hole, to the leaves of the tree casting its shadow through his window and onto his wall.
His memories would start to fade but those around him would always remember his wrongs.
As he fixed his now white hair, they knew that his last night was tonight. His old bones creaked as he reached the door... there was a heavy thud and the sound of wheezing - a man needing oxygen but the oxygen wanting to go everywhere else - besides his lungs.
Now as they drew closer, almost able to touch what last touched them, he moaned and groaned as the life was sucked out of him, their hands wrapped around his limbs as they dragged him into their hell, all his memories flashed before him, grave after grave, blood, knives, fear, families torn apart by death, all his joys were now becoming their revenge... his screams echoed through his house leaving his walls painted with death.
They finally reached their desire, as he once had his - they had theirs. The old mans body never was found...
His memories would start to fade but those around him would always remember his wrongs.
As he fixed his now white hair, they knew that his last night was tonight. His old bones creaked as he reached the door... there was a heavy thud and the sound of wheezing - a man needing oxygen but the oxygen wanting to go everywhere else - besides his lungs.
Now as they drew closer, almost able to touch what last touched them, he moaned and groaned as the life was sucked out of him, their hands wrapped around his limbs as they dragged him into their hell, all his memories flashed before him, grave after grave, blood, knives, fear, families torn apart by death, all his joys were now becoming their revenge... his screams echoed through his house leaving his walls painted with death.
They finally reached their desire, as he once had his - they had theirs. The old mans body never was found...
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